Paid in Full[Mission]

Age : 27 Posts : 106

Quote :: Mission Title: Paid in Full
Mission Type: Generic
Mission Location: Any
Shinobi Requirement: C Rank Nukenin +
Mission Rank: C
Mission Objective: You were in the market, buying supplies like a good little human being for once, when you realized that the last merchant ripped you off. He actually managed to somehow steal some of your money while you were purchasing something of low value. He apparently thinks he's some kind of big shot, so to show him how its really done, your going to break into his house at night and steal everything he has, including the money he stole from you.
Mission Time Limit: 2 weeks
Min Post Count: 3 for solo missions, 2 per person for team missions

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The reflection the puddle offered South wasn't the most comforting one in existence, but then- most reflections never were. The pull-over he had rescued from it's former life in retirement as a rag hung over his trim frame with the elegance one could expect from such a moth eaten piece of attire. Despite it's structural shortcomings, it did the job reasonably well. Hiding his rather distinctive orange hair from view was it's most important function at that moment, South didn't really care for the chills that the season had spawned upon them, being used to the more mundane punishments the elements offered for those who braved their naked fury. South, being one of those who were either physically hardened or mentally retarded had often traversed distances in those conditions. Why? Because pursuers were the least likely to give chase in such weather, or if they did, were more likely to loose sight of him. It wasn't any piece of genius logic, rather the simple emotion of desperation ensured these acts, it wasn't really like they had a choice if they wanted to maintain their freedom and/or life.
The faintly visibly outcrops of dead skin cells simply known as 'hair' to the average man arranged themselves in a position that demonstrated the emotion of annoyance without verbal indication or extravagant gesture.
Turning away from his illusionary double, South strode northwards- towards a small gathering of people, animals, stone and boats that eventually doubled over each other to such a degree with a town of sorts was formed. It was a little haphazard compared to some, but the people made it work.
It was more likely then not that the fishing industry was what made the whole place run, rather then good administration or high morale, but the small town certainly made enough profit to keep itself head, shoulders and torso out of the waters. And it was here that South rather needed to pick up some new supplies before foraging onwards.

Age : 27 Posts : 106

Entering the market had proven to be a small expedition in creativity, as the local guards had been inspecting the local entrances, apparently today was an open market day and as a consequence- the entire peace keeping corps were out in force, policing the colour extravaganza in muted shades of grey, green and brown. A uniform that appeared to have originally been intended for camouflage, but in the varied levels of pigmentation that the market displayed, they showed up like sore thumbs, each equally exposed and crying out for some attention that would render them fatally lethargic before passing on in a finally stable pool of sanguine fluid.
South shuddered and pushed down the corrupting force, ignoring the sickly bitter pang of his blood regaining it's organic status instead of having the consistency of a chilled liquid with a high viscosity, the smooth, low steady tread through the pathways of his body was a most glorious feeling that you could ever have the opportunity to experience. Unfortunately, or fortunately- it appeared that a good majority of the population never would, seeing as they were trained in fields of expertise that were far more benign when compared to his own.
Come to think of it, most were weren't they? Idly chuckling to himself, South set off to navigate the stalls that had been set up end to end, conveniently placed according to their category. Much to the digressions of the merchants, they were placed right next to their competitors. For those of the more slippery dealers, they appeared to have managed the potential loopholes so that they had to be placed in different areas. One such method appeared to be selling a variety of items, and not appearing to have any of them focused around one target audience. This was the secondary role of the guards, to inspect the 'ticket' of the merchant and to inspect their wares. South inspected one example of these interactions, and amusedly observed as one of these men was dragged away, screaming blue murder at the guards.
Nodding lightly to himself, South quickly moved through the environment and without the burden that his target was under, he swiftly caught up. This same target also sufficiently busied their hands so that when they saw a foot coming around to catch their jaw, it was far to late.
The real target of course, was by and large confused by the whole proceedings before he spied an opportunity and pounced on it. By some miracle he had been saved, he could continue selling his products! That same sheen appeared in his eye that one might confuse with the perverts flash of success and impending dream material. But in the correct context, it was the sign of greed, something that South had wanted to see. After a brief exchange of words, South left with the merchant to his small set-up, and made the required purchases. It was in the final exchange of funds and supplies that South noticed something was up. 'Up' being another term for going south, which was rather amusing considering that he was called South.
Maybe 'pear-shaped' was a better term, South didn't feel like jinxing his life any more then it already was. So South let it go, and left the grounds feeling lighter in his pouch of funds then he should have. In fact....it wasn't on him at all. South amiably shrugged. He had been going to kill the little blighter regardless. Rule number one was that you didn't leave witnesses unless it benefited you. Unfortunately..greedy merchants weren't in that small quota of the population.

Age : 27 Posts : 106

Keeping an eye on his quarry would prove potentially difficult if he left the vast enclosure, and any potential pursuers would have to work that much harder to locate him in a crowd rather then on a road by himself. What was the jargon for such a practise that the Physiological Experts called it? 'Survival in numbers'? That sounded correct, and while South didn't traditionally agree to being compared to a flock animal such as one of the common pigeons, he didn't feel up to arguing that it didn't work. The evidence that nature presented worked, that was simple. Without outside intervention, if a creature did something that did not serve a purpose to it's continued survival, it died. Simple, and as brutal as that. So, evidently the method of hiding a tree in a forest was functional. Unless of course they Sensor Types with them, but then that same Ninja had to be skilled enough to pick him up amongst the many thousands of grouped here, and he didn't have enough notoriety in his field of business and it's counterpart. So, it was safe to say that he was far more wrapped in the temporary shroud of security here then he would be on the road.
Such was the frequent bouts of extensive paranoia that one had to go through. Still he had a couple of loose ends tied up. His gait quickly carried South to the intended location. One were he was met with some disappointment. Only one guard remained on the dirt. The other appeared to have wandered off to some unknown location. South doubted that he was completely cognisant however, so was prepared to write him off for now. He instead had to deal with a body that didn't appear to be staying unconscious for very long. Even as he stood there, the slow wheeze of respiration increased in intensity. Idly crouching down by the comatose male, South grabbed his shoulders, and pulled the male upright. The sudden change in latitude caused the being's eyes lashes to flutter, revealing a pair of innocent eyes. Baby blue, and clear as crystal. Unmarred by any doubt, faith or anger. A pair of chilled lips opened to ask a question, the first syllabus had already kissed the air in the space of time it took for his head to spin around until it faced a direction that was completely opposite to it's former composition. Before, it had been looking at the stone walls of the local barracks.
Now it was staring glassy eyed at the small ramshackle gathering of merchants the guard had sought to protect. But all this was lost on South as he stood up, his exhalations and inhalations becoming choppy as he rode the high of replacing another living being in the existence of nature. He had proved himself capable of killing him, hence he had taken in his space on the food chain along with the many others that had been discreetly introduced to the terminal illnesses of poison, gas, flames and broken bones.
South's eyes inverted, flickering between the traditional brown to a yellow iris and a jet black sclera and pupils. Perhaps at the start, South hadn't enjoyed the act of taking another life, doing it out of sheer necessity. But after all this time, it was really the only thing to look forward to.
Letting the death of his quarry appease whatever beast it looked appetising to, South didn't feel the need to perform any 'soul searching' to find whatever it was. There was after all, such a thing as being far to curious.
Not wanting to be traced without some effort on his pursuer's part, South shouldered the man in a Fireman's Carry, hoisting the now deceased man over his body. This exercise didn't pose any real challenge, as had been noted from his eyes, this male was young, almost painfully straddling the threshold between minor and major. He would have had a home to return to, a Mother, a Father. Someone might have even had their picture taken with him. There would be no more pictures of this young man. Walking behind one the back alleys, South was careful to reposition the man's head so that it appeared at least slightly healthier then it had before. Now dragging him along in the same fashion one might do to a intoxicated drinking partner. This would serve as most delicious bait indeed. For the trail South was following was not random, but a carefully selected pair of footprints. A pattern that repeated itself until they stumbled across a bearded male, leaning against a limestone wall, breathing heavily. The cry for help from behind caused him to turn around in time stumble forward in an attempt to assist someone who he obviously could recognise from stature alone. Maybe he was related to the dead man South now brandished before the concussed guard. An Uncle maybe? It was not enough reason for South to prevent his arm reaching around the dead man's belt and wrapping the still fingers around a blade. Nor was it enough to halt the motion that falsified South's involvement in the whole matter as the man dropped forwards. Bleeding from the decisive slash to the neck. There came a few gargled, sounds like one might expect from a dying fish(South had never heard one but could certainly imagine) as blood seeped around the air his lungs and the male coughed his way to death. One his second target could be declared dead, South set up the bodies in the following scenario; 'Guard A stabs Guard B, Guard B retaliates and seemingly accidentally breaks his companions neck.' How did the accidentally feature into this whole picture? The part that included South removing his first casualties breast plate and committing seppuku on him. Now that the picture was indeed complete, South stepped away and proceeded to explore the market for the rest of the day.
[Timeskip ]

Now standing in front of his targets stall, South took the time to watch his final kill for the day. To understand him, to watch him interact with his customers. It was a old habit, one that he probably needed to get rid off, but nonetheless was continued. Insofar he hadn't caused him any undue difficulties and was a good period to reflect on the perversion that he had become. The last part was the bit that made the recreational activity so short. As his target dispatched his latest parade of customers, South slipped into the small pavilion, in the dying rays of sunlight, he fitted in quite nicely with the mottled green of the canvas. Camouflaged, South observed his last activities with a candid eye, the other devoted to watching the doorway.
The Merchant(who had now been revealed to had been called 'Markoff' by some prophetic parent, as he was indeed about to be 'marked off' the genetic record.
The process in which he was removed was remarkably uninspired but could be considered poetic in the sense that a black rose thorn plundered it's way through his tissue, muscle, sinew, tendon and ligament without undue pause to avoid the bone. He had been in the process of organising himself a flash of a beverage, seemingly alcoholic in nature. The petals of the rose -heralded by it's sharp spines- blossomed on his shirt, marking the sacrifice of his entire being to a new existence.
Of course, his personal preference was not with the plant analogy, but his own nickname of 'Bumblebee', but he was biased in that regard.
The thorn/sting removed itself from the side of the beast it had felled, and the wielder of the blade moved away, accustomed to the process of locomotion in the absence of light, South left the body to bleed. In the rapidly darkening enclosure, he quickly looted the body and the surrounding wares, recovering his own monetary funds and whatever profit the man had made over the course of the day.
It was now, one again- time to disappear.
[Exit]