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Ulkira
Age : 31
Posts : 1836
![Call Back [Private] Vide](https://2img.net/i/fa/vide.gif) |  Subject: Call Back [Private] Sun 24 Nov 2013, 9:16 am | |
| “I warned you, didn’t I? But you wouldn’t listen to me, would you? If you’d just done as I suggested, then this outcome could have been avoided. You wouldn’t be -.”
“I swear to God, Shichibi, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to -! Ugh.”
Vocalization was cut short as Masquerade’s body lurched forward, and he landed face-first on the dirt. There he lay, for several seconds, motionless and silent. Only the gentle, periodic hiss of inhalation and exhalation confirmed that he was actually alive. Nonetheless, it was over a minute before the male bothered to lift his face out of the dirt and push himself up onto his knees. Sighing deeply and ignoring the soil sticking to his visage, he crawled over to a nearby tree and propped his back against it. The Nukenin was presently a mess. His coat was missing, and the chest piece he wore underneath was a shattered remnant of what it once was, with only a single plate left to cover his left shoulder. The remainders of his clothes were ragged and worn-out, dyed irregularly in splashes of dark, dried blood; whether the fluid was his or another’s was impossible to tell. Additionally, his voluminous bulk of blonde hair was coated in blood and dirt. Only his mask remained free of any signs of damage, save for the few specks of blood and soil stuck to the reflective, blue visors.
At the moment, the Nukenin looked like crap, and he felt like crap. Leaning his head back, the shinobi exhaled deeply once more, trying to cast his focus away from the acute discomfort plaguing his senses. The stinging from the buildup of lactic acid in his sore muscles resulting from overexertion; the repeated blurring and sharpening of his vision; the pounding in his temple, as if someone was driving a screw into his skull; and the frequent yet sporadic waves of nausea in his stomach. Slumped against the base of the tree, limbs hanging limply on the ground, head lolling to one side with a gaping mouth, Masquerade looked more dead than alive at this point. He was exhausted, fatigued, out of energy, as lively as a sack of potatoes - whichever best described the situation.
He hadn’t felt this drained since… Actually, he had never felt this drained - period. Even those distant years of learning the basics of Ninjutsu had never left him feeling this nauseated, this… lifeless. With his massive reserves of chakra, utter fatigue was an incredibly rare occurrence for him. Boastful though it may be, the truth was that Masquerade did not tire as easily as the average shinobi did; nor was he prone to feeling as much lassitude as he was right now. Coupled with his own aversion to expending too much energy, it was increasing unlikely for the Shichibi’s Jinchuuriki to exhaust himself to this extent. How much chakra have I burned so far? How much do I have remaining? Half? A third? Twenty-percent? He could not say. He did not even know exactly how much chakra he had in comparison to “regular” shinobi. All he knew was that whatever “amount” he had left, it was not a lot.
So, the question to be asked at this point was: how did Masquerade end up in such an incapacitated state?
As always, there was a tale to accompany the answer.
It had been a month so far since he had come to Yu no Kuni, and after several weeks of doing nothing but lazing around, the Nukenin had finally decided to get off his backside and go earn some cash. Nothing of particular interest had been found through unaided searching, so he had reluctantly gone to his associate, Subaru, to see if he had any information. “Reluctantly”, because the last two times Masquerade had taken up a job that Subaru had suggested, the blonde had ended up being partaking in tasks much harder and more perilous than he had been expecting. A simple journey for some plants had brought Masquerade to what others had claimed to be a haunted island, and a rumor he was hesitantly considering to be true. The second time… Well, Masquerade had been trapped in a decimated town full of mobile corpses, and had almost died trying to survive. Therefore, one might sympathize with Masquerade if he said that he was a little tentative about going to the same person whose requests had gotten him into those messes. That being said, Masquerade had decided not to hold those unfortunate events against Subaru forever, since the man had proven more of an asset than a liability. Plus, almost every mission that Masquerade had undertaken in his life as a shinobi had featured an unexpected twist or two.
And his latest one had been no different.
Subaru had indeed had something for Masquerade: a standard break-in and theft. The Teinei had been tasked with the objective of sneaking into a mansion right here in Yu no Kuni, and securing a literal “package” from within. Simple enough. However, there was always more to it than that. The ever-pessimistic Nukenin did not need Subaru’s reminder that resistance should certainly be expected; in exactly what form this resistance would occur was unclear, but it was stated that shinobi interference might not be too wild a presumption. Furthermore, there was no reason why the mansion’s residence would not be expecting an intruder’s appearance. Additionally, the clandestine nature of the mission meant that Masquerade would be on his own, with no assistance from Subaru or anyone else.
The odds had been stacked quite well against Masquerade’s success, but a fear of failure had not caused the Nukenin to back down from the challenge. He had performed tmore complicated missions before, though admittedly with far more favorable odds. Still, Masquerade had argued with himself that, sooner or later, he would have to start taking on jobs with low success chances. So why not start now? It was probably not the smartest way of thinking, but Masquerade had invested too much of his interest in the prospective task to decline it. If anything, he wanted to see what was so special about this package, and why someone would make it so hard to obtain it. The difficulty of the job had not deterred him: he had been confident that he would be able to handle whatever came his way.
It was funny just how wrong he had been.
A grimace formed on the Nukenin’s face as he recalled the catastrophe that the mission had turned into. There had been more guards than he had expected, and the extent to which they had been prepared for a shinobi’s arrival was mindboggling, to say the least. Traps, strategies, tricks - the other side had been graced with a bountiful supply of these advantages, along with more. The mansion (and the complex in which it was situated) had been a deathtrap; it had taken everything in Masquerade’s power to stay alive. In the end, he had not retrieved the package; and thus, he had not completed the mission. The parcel had been lost when he chose to ensure his survival over the mission’s success, which he had accomplished by corroding everything in his way to escape the place. Every jutsu in his arsenal, every weapon on his person, had been utilized to create a path towards freedom. He had left the residence in a mess, as a collapsed ruin, with the bodies of his dead or injured adversaries scattering the wreckage. Masquerade himself had not emerged unscathed from the rubble, having suffered his fair share of injuries from falling and crushing debris. Sheer willpower had been all that had allowed the wounded shinobi to crawl out of the wreckage and stumble away to safety.
Tch. Of all my acts of stupidity, this certainly tops the list.
Grumbling mentally, Masquerade shifted into a more comfortable position against the tree, more or less lying against it rather than sitting up. It seemed unlikely that he would be moving anytime soon. He had used up far more chakra than he would have preferred in that mission, and even more had been lost in healing the wounds he received during that disaster. For the moment, the Teinei had decided to rest here until he had regained his strength, or at least as long as time permitted; because pretty soon, he would have to get moving again. He and Subaru had agreed to meet up at a location not far from here after Masquerade completed the mission, where the shinobi was supposed to hand over the obtained package to the other for delivery.
Of course, that exchange would not be happening as the package had not been acquired, but Masquerade would have to meet up with Subaru anyway to give a report of his failure; which meant that he had to get moving soon. He had to get back on his feet, and make the fifteen minute trek to the café nearby for the meet.
Too bad his eyelids decided to slip over his eyes at that point.
Last edited by Ulkira on Mon 17 Nov 2014, 7:03 am; edited 1 time in total |
|   | | Ulkira
Age : 31
Posts : 1836
| | Subject: Re: Call Back [Private] Sun 08 Dec 2013, 5:58 am | |
| “Katon • Goukakyuu no Jutsu!”
Blazing chakra. Scorching heat. Searing pain. With a sudden start back to consciousness, Masquerade’s eyelids flew upwards and a yelp erupted from his mouth as the fireball encased his body. The inferno cleared to show the figure lying flat on the ground and looking down at his body, teeth clenched and eyes widened in pain. He had barely registered the fiery tongues of fire dancing on the remnants of his apparel when a surge of the same chakra from before sparked within his mind’s eye. The briefest of glances was thrown to spot a human outline rushing at him, before he rolled away from the tree he had been resting under, grunting as the frictional force from the ground impacted upon his sore, burnt muscles. The roll had been a success: the surprise dropkick from the attacker had been evaded, and the few flames on his clothes had been snuffed out by the rotating motion.
Evade completed and motion halted, Masquerade pushed himself up from the ground into a kneeling stance on one knee; the subsequent attempt to look up at his assailant was interrupted momentarily as a wave of pain shot up his spine from his body. A quick glance was cast down at the result of the first, and successful, attack that had been thrown at Masquerade. The Katon jutsu’s aim had been dead-on. His clothes, which had been damaged enough already, were now singed and frayed. The haphazardly-positioned burns on his skin were smarting, coupling with his preceding injuries to further encumber his ease of movement. The burns were not severe, certainly not as bad as any he had received during his failed mission from earlier, but they were discomforting nonetheless. To make matters worse, he was still physically feeble at the moment; the nap had helped a little, but not enough. In fact, it had probably not helped him all that much anyway.
If I hadn’t fallen asleep, I would have spotted that first attack before it hit. So amateurish, to be caught resting… Lips curled back in a slight snarl, Masquerade looked away from his injuries and up at his male attacker. The newcomer stood less than twenty feet away from the tree under which Masquerade had been lying just moments ago, calmly straightening up from the post-attack pose he had been in. A toothy grin was flashed at the Nukenin as the shinobi assumed a relaxed posture. No, not a grin: a sneer. Clearly, there were some contemptuous thoughts occupying the other shinobi’s head. Needless to say, the Nukenin also had his fair share of derisive opinions towards his assailant.
The unnamed male raised his hands and began to clap slowly and dramatically, his demeanor just oozing with condescension. “You dodged the kick; nicely done. But you know, any shinobi worth his forehead protector would have dodged both attacks.” The grin did not widen, but the mocking tone had definitely intensified. Masquerade did not feel the least bit fazed by the poor attempt at ridiculing. He would be very ashamed of himself if such petty taunting was enough to get under his skin; he did not have that little self-esteem. Besides, he was more preoccupied in studying his “opponent” (assuming the other male was an enemy, and all the evidence so far implied as much) than to care about any trash talking.
The shinobi before him was a male, as mentioned already. He was noticeably tall, much taller than Masquerade; the Nukenin would hazard a guess that the other male stood about three inches above six feet, at the very least. His form was lean and wiry, quite similar to Masquerade’s; however, the undeniable difference in muscle mass confirmed that this person was more inclined towards physical combat than Masquerade. The man’s skin was pigmented a darker shade than Masquerade’s paler skin; his head of messy, shoulder-length hair was a jet-black coloring, seeming to have very little in terms of sheen and luster, and fell before his face haphazardly in the form of bangs. The man was dressed in a pair of deep gray trousers and black shinobi sandals; his quarter-sleeved, tight-fitting shirt was a muddy-brown color, and he wore a beige scarf over his shoulders; and finally, around his wrists and his neck were a number of silver bangles. He carried no weapons on his person other than the standard shinobi kits, positioned at his waist and thighs. A red forehead protector was tied to his right bicep, though Masquerade could not get a clear view of the insignia from his angle.
The feature that drew the Nukenin’s attention the most was the raven-haired shinobi’s eyes. Narrow, calculating, and cold, they were lined with dark gray markings reminiscent of eyeliner, except clearly natural; the irises were a vibrant red, more vivid than even the (in)famous Sharingan. Those were not pleasant eyes; they were fouler than Masquerade’s own hideous optics.
Physical traits aside: what worried Masquerade the most right now was that he did not have the strength to partake in the fight that was to come; and more than that, he did not like what he sensing from the male. This person seemed younger than Masquerade, but his chakra was nothing to joke about. The amount he was sensing belonged to a Chuunin, indubitably. Not a chakra level that was anywhere near the reserve of a Jinchuuriki. But when that Jinchuuriki was more or less depleted of his massive reserves, well, then it was a point of major grievance.
The unnamed shinobi seemed aware that Masquerade was sizing him up, because his grin widened for a moment as he shifted his stance to allow the Nukenin a better view of his forehead protector. The renowned symbol for Sungakure no Sato was etched onto the metal plate; the lack of any other markings confirmed where this shinobi’s loyalties lay. “As you can tell, I do mean you harm.”
A mental growl rang through Masquerade’s head at this point, born out of a dislike of the current situation. He was definitely in hot water now, as the saying went. Exhausted, injured, and weak, and facing against an opponent of considerable prowess, who was of a class that actively sought the capture/extermination of Masquerade’s kind? Hardly a promising situation. Masquerade did not have the strength or the confidence to get through a fight, so he felt he had to resort to the only option he could think of: fleeing the scene. The luxury of dwelling on such thoughts was briefly interrupted as his opponent began to, putting the Nukenin on alert for an attack.
Fortunately, it turned out to be a false alarm: the sneering shinobi merely placed a hand over his chest, his red eyes never leaving the unmoving Masquerade, and pronounced loudly, “I am a Chuunin of Sunagakure no Sato; my name is Kumoi Juudai.” A slight bow was delivered the silent Nukenin’s way, though it was less respectful than sardonic. The Sunagakure Chuunin looked up at Masquerade, teeth bared in a grin that was clearly mischievous. “It’s been a while, Masquerade.”
The Nukenin’s attention had drifted away the moment he had realized that the Sunagakure shinobi was not planning on attacking, his thoughts too preoccupied with formulating a plan that would allow him to escape. However, the tone in which the other male declared his name made it sound as if he expected Masquerade to recognize it; the remark after that had caught Masquerade’s attention, too. As such, the Nukenin’s brow furrowed as he looked inquiringly at the one called Kumoi Juudai. It sounded as if this person knew Masquerade, and it seemed that Masquerade should know him as well. But the fact of the matter was that the Jinchuuriki could not recall ever meeting, knowing, or hearing about anyone by that name; and he did not hesitate to make his lack of knowledge known.
“Should I… know you?”
The grin on Juudai’s face twitched fractionally, but remained in place as he straightened up, simultaneously sighing and shaking his head disappointedly. “You don’t remember me; I figured as much. Why don’t you try racking that brain of yours? I’m sure you’ll remember meeting someone from Sunagakure with my name.” A hint of annoyance could be detected in Juudai’s voice, but his demeanor was otherwise unaffected by Masquerade’s ignorance. While on the subject of Masquerade’s ignorance: despite the graveness of the situation at hand, the Nukenin could not help but ponder for a moment on whether he had encountered someone with this moniker. A part of him argued that this was a good way of keeping his opponent from attacking, and thus buying the rogue more time to come up with an escape plan that did not have an unfortunate outcome. The other part was of the opinion that Masquerade should indulge in his curiosity. Regardless, he was intrigued by this man’s claims that both shinobi had met before. But, try as hard as he could while in the presence of a potential threat, Masquerade could not recall ever coming across a Kumoi Juudai.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. How hopeless can you be?” Time seemed to come to a halt as these words echoed within Masquerade’s subconscious; the shinobi did not move as the world in front of him seemingly froze, whilst the scenery behind him melded into darkness. Shackled several tens of meters over him, the Shichibi snorted irritably as she looked down at her host, apparently unable to stand her host’s ignorance any longer. “He’s that Genin from all those years ago. Remember: the one who challenged you to a fight and lost immediately?” She paused expectantly, waiting to see if the Nukenin had remembered now. When he clearly did not, she sighed and continued flatly, “The boy whose Bingo Book you stole?”
The metaphorical light bulb went on in the blonde’s head as he recalled the incident in question. Yes, he did know a Sunagakure shinobi named Kumoi Juudai. Tilting his head to one side, Masquerade gave the Chuunin a quick glance-over once more, before calmly making an observation that was both cliché and accurate.
“You’ve gotten taller.”
Juudai’s sneer widened. “And you haven’t.”---------------------------------------- - Special Characteristics Used:
Name: [Tier I] Improved Acrobatics
Rank: C
Type: Physical
Prerequisites: N/A
Training: A 600 word training post is required to gain this Special Characteristic.
Restrictions: Amongst the Speed, Endurance, Strength, and Acrobatics SCs, members may only possess two of them, unless they possess both Weaponry and Taijutsu as their Primary and Secondary Specialties. If one possess Weaponry or Taijutsu as a Primary specialty, with one other specialty, and acquire Weaponry or Taijutsu as a Sub-Specialty, they may possess up to any three of them.
Description: The ninja trains their ability in more advanced evasive maneuvers which serves the purpose of avoiding enemy attacks. The survivability of the ninja increases as they are now capable of executing quicker flips and twists than their peers.
Name: Sensor Ninja
Rank: B
Type: Chakra
Physical Requirements: N/A
Training Requirements: An 1200 word training post is required to gain this Special Characteristic.
Description: The ninja awakens a dormant talent they've possessed and develops a new type of sensory. Now being classified as a "Sensor Ninja", the ninja is capable of detecting the presence of other people through their chakra. A Sensor can detect their targets from a great distance which can extend 100m, as well as differentiate the characters by their signature chakra alone. They can pin-point any individual within their sensory limit, even if they are surrounded in a crowd, and even locate other Sensor Ninja. A Sensor can determine a person's location and chakra capacity when in a locating position.
Last edited by Ulkira on Mon 17 Nov 2014, 7:03 am; edited 1 time in total |
| | | | Ulkira
Age : 31
Posts : 1836
| | Subject: Re: Call Back [Private] Sun 15 Dec 2013, 2:34 pm | |
| It had happened several years ago. Several years ago (Masquerade couldn’t remember the exact number; maybe five or six?), a Genin had confronted Masquerade, with the hopes of taking the rogue down and boosting the former’s reputation. Back then, Masquerade had not been all that powerful, or even that major a threat, but he had turned out to be a more skilled shinobi than his opponent. The boy had charged at the Nukenin, who had lazily stepped out of the way and watched as his attacker ended up tripping and falling to the ground. One simple Raiton jutsu later, and the Genin had been out for the count. Following a little taunt, Masquerade had relieved the boy of the Bingo Book he had been carrying. Of course, shinobi were known for their resolve, and weak though he may have been, the Genin had at least possessed the determination to try again. Sadly for the boy, his opponent incapacitated him almost immediately, thus ending the fight and leaving the boy beaten. In exactly three moves, the Genin had been dispatched of.
An anticlimactic ending to an unmemorable encounter. Masquerade had not even looked back as he had walked away from the injured Genin, having no care for someone who was too weak to even stand a chance against a Nukenin as weak as he had been at the time. His interest for that incident had been so little that, up until now, he had not even remembered the Genin’s name or appearance. He knew that he had gotten the Bingo Book from him, but the exact details of the occurrence? Nope. As the Nukenin had so lamely put it back then, the Genin had had the strength of a squirrel. Was it no surprise that Masquerade had not bothered to remember his identity? During that fight (if it could even be called that), Masquerade had presumed that the boy would never make it far in the ninja world. For the briefest moment, while he had still cared enough to consider the matter, he had formed the opinion that the Genin was too foolish, reckless, and feeble to even make it past his rank as Genin.
Clearly, he had been proven wrong.
“My… How many years has it been? I would ask you how you’ve been doing all this time, but I can clearly see that it’s been going well. A Chuunin, now… Congratulations on the promotion. How long has it been?”
Based on just the quality of his voice, one might presume that the blonde was speaking to a friend; it sounded as if he was having a pleasant conversation with someone he was on good terms with. Even the manner in which the corners of his mouth curled upwards in an affable smile implied at a warm atmosphere. Neither Masquerade nor Juudai were looking at each other aggressively, or emanating any “bad vibes”. They both stood in an almost relaxed manner, neither looking prepared to strike; Juudai’s smirk was just as good-natured as Masquerade’s smile. To an observer, it would appear that the two shinobi were treating this situation as nothing more than an unexpected encounter between old acquaintances.
Appearances could be so deceiving. While he spoke, Masquerade was not concentrating on the conversation at hand, but working on his escape plan. He did not care one bit about how Juudai’s life had been going since their last encounter; he did not care at all about the Chuunin’s well-being, or his past. All he sought by making those statements was to distract his opponent, and hopefully allow the Nukenin to catch the other off-guard. Odd though it was, shinobi tended to have a very unprofessional habit of engaging in long conversations before, after, and even in between fights; a bad habit that could be exploited, if the proper steps were taken. And right now, Masquerade was hoping that his little attempt to continue the conversation would keep Juudai talking for a little while longer. No doubt the Sunagakure Chuunin would have something more to say to the Nukenin. If Masquerade was remembering correctly, the younger Juudai had been a rather loud-mouthed individual.
People could change a lot over time, it seemed. Instead of responding to Masquerade’s words, Juudai merely continued to watch the shorter shinobi with mild amusement. He was not showing any intentions of making the first move, but he was not indicating that he would not fight either. The crimson eyes never left Masquerade’s face, their icy gaze combining with the cocky smirk to give the Chuunin’s face an overall unsettling look. Masquerade did not let his own expression falter either, despite the fact that the silence was making the mood tenser by the second. They just stood there in silence, waiting for a move to be made.
Waiting...
Slowly, a wide, crazed grin stretched onto Juudai’s face.
Here it comes.
Gloved hands flew towards each other as their digits began to intertwine in a sequence of handseals. The Jinchuuriki began to execute his jutsu, sights locked onto the tanned figure before him. San no Pū-. Midway through his handseal sequence, Juudai abruptly vanished in the blink of Masquerade’s eye. Momentarily confused, Masquerade did not immediately register what had happened. The very next moment, he sensed the familiar mass of chakra directly behind him. He instinctively turned around to face it, and -.
Wham!
A leg smashed into his upper arm without warning. A faint crack was heard as the shoulder joint slipped out of its socket; an excruciating wave of pain hit Masquerade as his shoulder dislocated. He bellowed out loudly in agony, hunched over as his uninjured left arm clasped the wrist of his limp, injured right arm. The pain was unimaginable; he had never felt anything so severe. It hurts… Argh! Anger welling up in response to his pain, Masquerade glared up through eyes narrowed in pain at Juudai, who stood a few feet away from him. As he raised his head, he heard a gentle puffing sound, and the familiar noise made him glance down at the scroll lying unfurled at the Chuunin’s feet. He then looked up to see a cloud of smoke clearing around Juudai’s left hand, revealing the weapon he just unsealed. It was a mace, a four-foot long, black metal weapon, the base of its handle tapering into a spear-like spike. With a loud thump of impact, Juudai rested the head of the mace on the ground, eyeing Masquerade expressionlessly. The latter grimaced in displeasure, trying to keep his focus solely on his opponent and his weapon, and not the pain from his dislocated shoulder. Incidentally, not a very easy thing to do.
The crazed grin flashed once again on Juudai’s face, and he dashed towards Masquerade. The mace was lifted off the ground, and came swinging at the Nukenin. Masquerade backpedalled away from the strike, and continued doing so as Juudai followed up the initial strike with more of the same. Green eyes were fixed firmly on his opponent’s attacks, knowing that this weapon was something that he did not want to get hit by. He already had a damaged arm; he did not want any more injuries like that. Juudai, on the other hand, clearly wanted to inflict more damage upon his adversary, as was evident by the look on his face. Masquerade had seen that look before: it was the same expression that his Hyena Summon always sported on his face. It was a malevolent exposure of teeth, conveying nothing but a desire to wound. The bloodthirsty grin was more than enough incentive to avoid the mace, and the force with which the weapon was being swung made Masquerade even more inclined to avoid it. Luckily for him, in spite of the injuries he had sustained, Masquerade was doing quite well with his evasive dance. Sure, one of his arms was flailing around painfully and worthlessly as he dodged, and his burns stung when he moved in a particular way, but such pains kept reminding him why he needed to avoid further injuries. So for the moment, things were going rather well.
As often happened, he had “spoken too soon”. Faced with prospective pain though he may be, the fact of the matter was, Masquerade was still fatigued. He lacked the stamina needed for prolonged physical exertion. Therefore, as he swerved out of the way of a strike, his exhaustion briefly caught up with him, causing his leg muscles to spasm for a moment. He staggered slightly and obviously, almost losing his footing from the mild cramp, but managed to remain on his feet. For just a moment, he had been vulnerable; for just a moment, he had been inattentive. It had been a minor slip-up, but one that yielded a disastrous outcome. A violent swing of the arm, and the mace’s head connected squarely and loudly with Masquerade’s knees. He was swept off his feet, landing hard on his dislocated arm with a pained cry. But a busted shoulder was no longer the worst of his problems. The growls issuing from Masquerade’s mouth made it clear that the mace had done more damage to his legs than it seemed, and the clumsy manner in which he rolled off his side and onto his front showed how much of his mobility had been reduced. Incoherent words hissed out from behind clenched teeth as he tried to rise back to his feet, but to no avail. His legs chose to obey the pain rather than him.
Son of a bi- Gah!
A grunt of pain escaped from his mouth as a knee slammed into his spine, the joint digging deep into his flesh. The pressure was lifted a second later, but Masquerade remained grounded on his front, chin scraping the earth as he flimsily extended his left hand outwards and dug it into the ground, aiming to drag himself across the ground. He was denied this course of action as something very sharp was embedded into the back of his hand, piercing right through it and digging into the ground underneath. He growled in pain, fingers twitching as blood seeped out of his hand. Glaring up at the object, he saw that the pointed base of the mace’s handle had been wedged into his hand, pinning the extremity down and preventing it from moving. The spiked handle could not be lifted off; it had been wedged in too firmly. His left hand was now just as useless as his right hand.
Face scrunched up in pain, Masquerade tried not to let any sound other than his ragged breathing come from his mouth. He was beaten and helpless. He could not move, and he could not fight back. There was no denying the gravity of the condition he was in. The hits he had taken, while few in number, had been powerful in every definition of the word. His body felt like jelly: unresponsive and flimsy. Movement was practically impossible, both because it brought about severe pain, and because he did not have the strength to even move a finger. His right arm was still searing with unimaginable pain, the roundhouse kick having left it limp and flailing; the limb was more or less crippled now - completely useless at the moment. He could not say for sure how bad the damage to his legs was, but if the pain was any indicator, they had been messed up very badly. The damage from the knee drop, too, was hard to gauge, but it was no laughing matter either. And of course, having a heavy, spiked weapon wedged into one’s hand like a tent peg in the earth was not exactly comfortable.
He was beaten and helpless. He could not move, and he could not fight back. Wordlessly, he turned his attention upwards at Kumoi Juudai, who had just walked over to stand a few inches in front of the laying Masquerade. The Sunagakure Chuunin was presently looking down at the Nukenin with a harsh expression, mouth twisted in a frown and eyes narrowed distastefully. He then bent down so that he was crouching in front of Masquerade, and flashed a smug grin towards him. Naturally, Masquerade was not in the mood to grace him with a similar expression, so he simply resorted to clenching his teeth more tightly and trying to ensure the only sounds that came from him were those of breathing. One did not need to see the Nukenin’s eyes to know that he was glaring daggers at the grinning Chuunin - there was no need to even look at what was visible of his face. Waves of aversion were emanating so strongly from the Nukenin that they felt tangible.
Strength… Speed… Cunning… This is not the same shinobi I met before. He’s not a typical Chuunin, either. You’ve certainly changed more than your appearance, Kumoi Juudai.
He had definitely been proven wrong.---------------------------------------- - Special Characteristics Used:
Name: [Tier I] Improved Acrobatics
Rank: C
Type: Physical
Prerequisites: N/A
Training: A 600 word training post is required to gain this Special Characteristic.
Restrictions: Amongst the Speed, Endurance, Strength, and Acrobatics SCs, members may only possess two of them, unless they possess both Weaponry and Taijutsu as their Primary and Secondary Specialties. If one possess Weaponry or Taijutsu as a Primary specialty, with one other specialty, and acquire Weaponry or Taijutsu as a Sub-Specialty, they may possess up to any three of them.
Description: The ninja trains their ability in more advanced evasive maneuvers which serves the purpose of avoiding enemy attacks. The survivability of the ninja increases as they are now capable of executing quicker flips and twists than their peers.
Name: Sensor Ninja
Rank: B
Type: Chakra
Physical Requirements: N/A
Training Requirements: An 1200 word training post is required to gain this Special Characteristic.
Description: The ninja awakens a dormant talent they've possessed and develops a new type of sensory. Now being classified as a "Sensor Ninja", the ninja is capable of detecting the presence of other people through their chakra. A Sensor can detect their targets from a great distance which can extend 100m, as well as differentiate the characters by their signature chakra alone. They can pin-point any individual within their sensory limit, even if they are surrounded in a crowd, and even locate other Sensor Ninja. A Sensor can determine a person's location and chakra capacity when in a locating position.
Last edited by Ulkira on Mon 17 Nov 2014, 7:16 am; edited 2 times in total |
| | | | Ulkira
Age : 31
Posts : 1836
| | Subject: Re: Call Back [Private] Fri 20 Dec 2013, 1:15 pm | |
| Stronger, faster, and smarter; the little hot-headed Genin had definitely grown well. Masquerade had seen a number of Chuunin-level shinobi in combat, and based on his experiences, he could say for sure that Juudai had a significantly higher amount of skill as compared to his peers. At least in terms of strength and speed. The Sunagakure Chuunin’s first strikes had been outstanding on their own: speed so quick that Masquerade had lost sight of him, and strength so mighty that a mere kick had been enough to dislocate the Nukenin’s shoulder. Obviously, Masquerade was not pleased by what had just transpired here; in fact, he was livid. His opponent appeared quite pleased to see Masquerade’s silent rage, if the soft chuckle was any indication. “Not feeling too good, huh? How does it feel to be so helpless, to be so powerless? Does it make you mad? Does it make you feel humiliated? Of course it does. That’s exactly how I felt…” He was goading Masquerade now, a malevolent smile stretching onto his face, red eyes peering through the locks of hair hanging over his head. Suffice it to say, he looked a little demented.
“You know, when I was a kid, I always dreamed of being famous. I wanted people to respect me - to fear me - because of my strength and my accomplishments. But you know, a Genin fresh out of the Academy wasn’t going to be making a name for himself quickly, especially when he was stuck doing stupid chores rather than actual missions, right? Well, I thought the same thing. So I figured I’d try something that was bound to get people talking: apprehend a Nukenin. People told me it was a stupid idea, and that I wouldn’t stand a chance. I didn’t listen to them. I was sure I could pull it off. I knew how strong I was.” He paused, and smirked glumly. “We both know how that ended. I tried to capture you, and I was utterly defeated. In the end, everyone in the Village had been right. I hadn’t been strong enough.”
A darker expression slipped onto Juudai’s face as he spoke, and the bitterness in his voice made his displeasure apparent to his audience. The look on his face as he peered down at Masquerade was of pure loathing. “You disgraced me that day. When I went back to the village, I was the butt of so many jokes. Everyone was mocking me, ridiculing me, criticizing me. My parents, my teammates, my superiors, even the villagers that weren’t ninja! There was no end to the derision. I had been made a fool of. I was completely, and utterly, humiliated. And the ones responsible for that were you and me.”
Juudai gestured to the two shinobi as he spoke, and looked angrily at Masquerade, as if expecting him to say something. Difficult though it was, Masquerade managed to hold back the scornful snort that he was yearning to make in response to Juudai’s “tearful” tale. He felt no pity for the Chuunin in front of him, because he was of the opinion that the boy had gotten exactly what he deserved. Juudai had been stupid enough to challenge a rogue shinobi with such little skill, and he had suffered the consequences. The Chuunin could be pitied, but Masquerade was not so affectionate as to feel pity for the person that had just wounded him so severely. At least, not at this moment in time. Besides, he was too preoccupied in attempting to figure out a way to get out of this predicament. Disappointingly enough, the results were not very pleasing. Try as hard he could, Masquerade could not come up with an escape plan that seemed plausible to him. At least he had plenty of time to come up with something, due to the incessant nature of Juudai’s narration.
The aggrieved Sunagakure shinobi had more to say to his victim, and he was doing so in a quieter, more soulless tenor. “I hated everyone around me for their contemptuous attitude. I hated them for mocking me for my weakness. So I swore that I would get more powerful. I swore I would prove them wrong. I trained obsessively. I went on missions after consecutive missions. I put my entire being into getting stronger.” A hand was curled tightly into a fist, and bared teeth were clenched firmly against each other. “I had decided to become one of the deadliest shinobi in the world. My goal was to show the whole world my worth… and to pay you back for that beating.” The corners of Juudai’s mouth curled upwards slightly in a faint smile of triumph, his crimson eyes glinting maliciously as he eyed the Nukenin before him. “You know, I wasn’t expecting to run into you here. I hadn’t planned it. I was on my way to a mansion nearby, to collect a package from the residents. When I got there, I found the place in shambles, and you were leaving the scene. It was purely coincidence that I met you, or maybe it was fate? Do you believe in fate? I don’t, but I wasn’t going to let this chance go. Finding you there, having caused all that destruction, I knew it was my chance to redeem myself. Beating you was one of my goals, and I was sure that, this time, I was ready. And it looks like I was right.”
“Wow, this kid likes to talk a lot. Want me to shut him up?”
Masquerade did not give a verbal response to Juudai, or a mental one to the Shichibi. He only continued to glare at Juudai with repugnance. Honestly, he did not have a shred of interest in this shinobi’s “tragic” life, or even how the two of them had managed to run into each other. In any other situation, Masquerade would have been astounded that someone had spent (or should he say, “wasted”) so many years of their life training to defeat someone of his caliber. Masquerade would never say that he was so strong that anyone would have to go through so much hardship to obtain enough power to defeat him. Though, in this case, Juudai had clearly acquired more strength than was required to take down Masquerade; or at least, an unprecedentedly weakened Masquerade. But all of that was beside the point. Right now, Masquerade did not care about any of that; all he was doing was glaring at the gloating figure in front of him. The masked visage was not altering its expression in the least; there was no momentary change in the ferocity of the glare, or the primal natural of the snarl. However, the Nukenin’s face did flicker for a nanosecond with confusion when Juudai dropped the victorious expression in favor of a more… “deathly” look. The light in the Chuunin’s eyes had extinguished abruptly, all emotion vanishing from his face, eyes wide and unblinking as he looked down at Masquerade. For a few seconds, Juudai was silent, watching Masquerade in a manner that was almost unnerving. The blonde did wonder for a moment what was going through the dark-haired youth’s head. His curiosity was satisfied when Juudai spoke up, but his voice was now even more hollow and soulless than before.
“It’s not enough, though. This… this victory… It’s not enough,” Juudai mumbled, rising to his feet. There was this inattentiveness in his demeanor, as if he was no longer speaking to Masquerade, but to himself. Frankly, Masquerade was starting to wonder about the Chuunin’s sanity. “I worked so hard to get stronger, did so much, and in the end... this is all it took?” Juudai sighed heavily, running a hand through his head of messy hair, the latter action failing to alter the obscuring style of his bangs. “All of that, and in the end, I beat you so easily… Too easily. This - this is no fun. This isn’t enough…” He paused for a second, looking down impassively at the injured figure of Masquerade. Without warning, the aloofness morphed into fury, and a foot violently smashed into Masquerade’s face. The gasp of pain was interrupted as the foot returned immediately for another attack, and was followed by more of the same kind.
“It’s! Not! Enough!” Each word was punctuated with another stomp to Masquerade’s face. The incapacitated one could not stop or dodge the attacks, only able to grunt as the consecutive stomps slammed viciously against his skull. The punishment did not stop, as Masquerade’s adversary continued to slam his foot mercilessly into the former’s face. The attacks had enough vigor in them to damage their target. Blood was gushing out the blonde’s now-broken nose, and trails of the liquid were dripping out of his mouth. He felt dazed and lightheaded, with his face throbbing and his vision blurring infrequently; but, there was nothing he could do. He was completely crippled and immobilized, incapable of defending himself. Both his arms were unusable, and his legs were no longer functioning. He was low on chakra, and his resolve was slowly cracking because of all the pain plaguing his senses. All he could do was lie there and take the beating.
“I can take him out easily. Just say the word, and I’ll take care of him for you. All you have to do is say the word.”
“You’re too weak! You fucking weakling! You’re too weak! Argh!” A vehement kick was delivered that whipped Masquerade’s face to the side. The force of the kick proved enough to snap the clasps holding the rogue’s mask on his head. The face accessory slipped from its attached location, and dropped to the ground in front of the Nukenin. A snarling Masquerade spat out a mouthful of blood, before slowly turning his head to glare vehemently at the seething Juudai. The latter allowed himself a momentary look of surprise as he saw Masquerade’s grotesque, insect-like eyes. The green eyes, featuring a pattern of hexagonal compound eyes upon their surface, lacked a certain sentience that human eyes possessed; they looked lifeless and unreadable, devoid of any emotion. They were inhuman. The Chuunin blinked slowly and peered curiously, eyebrow cocked at the sight. He looked from the eyes to the mask, and back. “So. That’s why you wear that thing. I can see why. Those are some hideous eyes you’ve got there.”
Nothing. Masquerade said nothing. He may be seething with rage, with his teeth bared in an animalistic manner, but he did not say anything. He merely continued to wordlessly glower at the dark-haired male standing before him, seeming to not care about the trickles of blood trailing down his face, or the fact that his mask had been removed. What exactly was going through the Jinchuuriki’s head was unclear, but the thoughts were no doubt antagonistic. However, the enraged Nukenin did not appear to be following through on any hostile intentions, for he merely lay on his spot without any signs of retaliation. His opponent seemed aware that Masquerade was not going to pull any maneuvers, because he moved closer to the rogue, returning to the same crouching position as before. With a curious expression, Juudai picked up Masquerade’s mask, the visors of which were now heavily dented and cracked, and stained with dirt and grime from the Chuunin’s sandals. Red eyes gave the item a brief yet interested glance-over, before it was toss uncaringly over a shoulder.
If Masquerade was angered further by this disregard for his mask, it was hard to tell from just his expression alone. Regardless, Juudai smirked conceitedly at Masquerade’s scowl, clearing finding enjoyment in enraging the Nukenin. Extending a hand forward, the tanned Chuunin grasped a handful of pale yellow hair and pulled at it firmly, lifting the Nukenin’s head upwards in an undoubtedly uncomfortable manner. Indeed, the intensifying of Masquerade’s scowl implied at his increased discomfort. “I suppose it’s fitting that the man who disgusts me the most in the world would have the most disgusting face that I’ve ever seen,” Juudai remarked casually. Again, no response from Masquerade, but the Suna shinobi was not put off by the silence. He seemed to be busy mulling over something, his lips pursed thoughtfully, forehead wrinkling and eyes flitting upwards.
“I know you can hear me. Yes or no?”
The grip on Masquerade’s mane was removed as Juudai uncurled his fingers and lowered his hand. Cocking his head to the side, the bloodthirsty look returned to his face. “You made me feel helpless and pathetic, and I will never forget that feeling. I’ve beaten you to a pulp. I’ve accomplished my objective. I could easily kill you right now, or take you back to Sunagakure to collect the reward. I’d get the appreciation I’d been seeking all this time… But you know what? I’m not going to do either.” He seized Masquerade’s hair once more to pull his face upwards, closer to his own maniacal visage. Malicious crimson eyes clashed with the unreadable greens. “I’m going to let you go, so you can be subjected to the same humiliation that I felt. I want your pain to continue. Killing you, locking you up; neither of that is going to make me feel as good as making you feel worthless. I want you to look back on this moment, to remember what happened now. I want you to hate me for what I’ve done to you, and I want you to hate yourself for being too weak to stand against me. You made me live a life of hate and vengeance caused by pain and humiliation, so it’s only fair that I repay the favor in kind, right?”
“Still waiting for answer...”
“And just to make sure you always remember what I did to you…” Juudai moved his free hand behind him, reaching into his weapons’ pouch and pulling out a handful of paper strips. He brandished the six rectangular strips of paper in his hand at Masquerade with a malicious grin, the kanji upon them easily recognized. “… I’ll leave you with a souvenir.” With a soft chuckle, the Chuunin slowly and deliberately began to stick the six explosive notes onto Masquerade’s face. Each motion was emphasized and obvious, as if Juudai wanted to torture Masquerade with the fear of what he was to come. While Masquerade’s made no attempt to stop the Chuunin (not that he could anyway, what with his body being crippled), his enraged expression had flicker for a moment as the first note was attached to his forehead. Otherwise, he did not seem fazed by the fact that someone was attaching six explosives to the most sensitive part of the human body.
There was no fear or worry to be seen. Only fury.
“Anytime now…”
Though a faint urgency could be detected in the Shichibi’s voice, no mental reply came her way; nor did any verbal words came out of Masquerade’s mouth as the tags were sequentially placed on his face. The bug eyes continued to defiantly glare daggers at the grinning face before him, as if daring the Chuunin to go through with what he was doing. Juudai seemed all too prepared to do just that, and did not hesitate at all as he placed the sixth and final tag under the blonde’s mouth. Letting go off Masquerade’s hair, he then rose up to his full height, dusting his hands clean of the nonexistent dirt on them. The next course of action was to pull the mace’s handle out of Masquerade’s hand, and the sadist purposely twisted the object around as he slowly pulled it out of the growling Nukenin’s flesh. After the weapon was out, Juudai pressed his foot down on the injured hand, keeping it pinned whilst he wiped the blood off the mace’s pointed end. Once that task was calmly completed, he looked down at his victim. Sticking his tongue out at and raising the weapon high, the taller individual moved his foot and brought the mace’s head smashing down on the other shinobi’s hand. Masquerade’s howled loudly, eliciting a small chuckle from his assailant. Swinging the mace to rest it on his shoulder, Juudai smirked unpleasantly as he turned around and walked away from Masquerade, stopping once he was more than five meters away from the Nukenin. The Chuunin looked back over his shoulder; he slowly and dramatically raised his free hand till it was level with his face, fingers positioned in a familiar and anticipated seal.
“Feel the humiliation,” Juudai sneered.
“Last chance, boy!”
Masquerade growled audibly.
“Katsu!”
The explosion was instantaneous, obscuring the figure in a sphere of fire and smoke; any screams that may have come from the Teinei were drowned out by the explosion’s boom. Juudai chuckled loudly as he turned away from the fireball, and without waiting to inspect the damage, leaped out of sight into the trees. The inferno died down quickly enough, but the smoke was not so eager. The figure within the cloud could see nothing but a stretch of dark gray through his rapidly darkening vision. His left hand twitched pathetically for a moment, before both it and his head dropped lifelessly to the ground. As he sunk into the dark depths of unconsciousness, Masquerade heard the Shichibi’s voice echoing in his mind, devoid of anger, laden with dissatisfaction.
“Tsk. You idiot. You deserve this for being so foolish. Honestly, what a disappointing host you’ve become…”----------------------------------------
~ Topic Concluded ~
[OOC: Cliché much?] |
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