Description: In this incomplete log, this is where all the 'Takuma terrorizes warehouse club stores' thing comes from.
It's Costco. It's everywhere. Need one say more?
Takuma Sakazaki's presence may be barely tolerated in most of Southtown proper, which makes sense when one considers the various crimes attributed to his name. Really, it's likely only because he's master of one of the world's more prominent karate styles that he's avoided jail at all. Kyokugen Karate is invincible, even against such dreary foes as assault, vandalism, reckless endangerment of life, and gross child neglect!!! --Regardless, Sakazaki has few options in where he might freely travel, and this Costco, located at the very least-populated portion of Southtown's demographics, is one such area.
The camera might zoom in here, zipping past squeaky-clean automatic sliding doors, through brightly-lit aisles and prominent displays for a variety of useless shit; soap-dispensing mops, extending garden hoses, and Snuggies dominate the centers of main aisles. Just past the Snuggie display, well into the leisurewear section, we will find a pair of sandaled and socked feet, attached to a pair of disgustingly thick calves. Bermuda shorts, khaki in color, take over from the knees up, while this man - presumably Sakazaki himself - has elected to wear an agonizingly bright Hawaiian shirt today, unbuttoned enough to display man-sexy chest and a thick, bull-like neck. Currently, that neck is craned to the side, while Takuma glances askance at the white terrycloth robe he holds.
"...Twenty dollars?? Robbery!"
It is not just robbery that the would-be felon of full-contact martial arts faces! No, he faces a truly dastardly foe that goes above and beyond the mere concept of robbery, here in the aisle full of budget clothes that were almost definitely looted from some thrift store that couldn't pay protection money to this international giant.
There is faint giggling underneath one of the tables, a very soft, faint, but altogether much too familiar snicker.
Ryuhaku Todoh!! Hide and seek maestro and nuisance both public and private on the worldwide level, admires his quick handiwork with a pen that has just totally turned an eight dollar robe into an overpriced twenty US dollar luxury!
He eyes Takuma's big, thick, disgustingly huge calves. The giggling fades to a scowl. Those beautiful, big, thick, disgustingly huge calves! How does he ever get those?! He'll show him! He'll show him good!
He slowly reaches out with the pen to start trying to write something stupid on said calves, like, maybe an illustration of that nice Kilroy fellow he met between a couple walls once.
Todoh could tell you he was totally real.
"It doesn't even make sense! The other robes aren't this expensive; what's being white got to do with anything?" Sakazaki is absolutely baffled, which only adds to the spectacle of Southtown's most recognizable karate master shopping in the first place. Fellow customers push their carts past, while some simply gawk - Takuma, man, the robe is obviously mispriced. Just ask for somebody to fix it. It's written in Magic Marker!
There is a special sort of magic to Ryuhaku Todoh's incredibly shallow tricks. This is the same magic that has his rival completely blind to the dastardly hand sneaking out from beneath a nearby table. Todoh will find Takuma's calves a wonderful medium for his art.
Takuma is, meanwhile, moving on to other, better things. With Todoh's drawing perhaps half-complete, Takuma begins walking again, head bowed in thought, robe still in his arms. One meaty finger strokes along the older man's broad chin.
"These robes... are -racist-. I need to tell the manager about this."
It is such a wonderful canvas. It's amazing how firm it is, just... how stable, even when he presses against it. Yes. The eternally one-upped martial artist shuts one eye and curls his tongue upward against the upper part of his lip as he thinks to draw the very long nose of good ol' Kilroy--
"Gck!" He silently grunts as he leans into what is thin air, laying his forearm down bare on the ground. Some especially heavy-set woman with a kid in a pretend car in front of the cart comes by and rolls over it. Bones crack, hands twitch, and Ryuhaku winces and takes on all manners of pained funny faces.
She never notices the bumps.
And so it comes to pass that Sakazaki approaches the service desk with a picture of (as far as others can tell) a half-finished penis inked onto his left calf. Already, children are asking awkward questions to their parents, while more than a few adolescents can't seem to help but snicker. Certainly, parents will be approaching the service desk with concerns of their own as soon as Sakazaki is finished. As for the Kyokugen Master...
"Young man."
"Yes s-o-oh. (Oh, shit)! *AHEM* Yes sir?"
"I have a concern." Takuma sounds legitimately concerned.
"...A-and, ah, what might the nature of your concern be, sir?"
"Your pricing's a little biased for my liking. What's the difference between this white Cottonelle bathrobe and the other colors? Why is it $20 when they're $8?? Are you suggesting that white is better??"
"Th-this is, uh... this is M-magic Marker..."
"I KNOW WHAT IT IS, OBVIOUSLY YOU HAVE A SPY IN YOUR MIDST, SON!" He can bark, when he wants to. The employee cowers behind the desk.
In the background, a scraggly-voiced floor worker announces a need for a cleanup near the leisure wear section. Something about a flattened customer.
If nothing else, these guys are good about cleaning things up. Ryuhaku Todoh, dazed and in considerable amounts of pain, is seen rolling on the floor against a giant mop by an employee who is either blind (as evidenced by the shades) or simply just doesn't really care so much about the whos and whats when it comes to human bodies. A low, pathetic groan makes for the undertones of Takuma's barking complaints at a customer service guy who is clearly not paid nearly enough to handle the wants and needs of dangerously violent people.
He is unceremoniously dumped inside a trashbin. There is a lot of rattling, and then the sound of plastic giving way - or someone perhaps finding the dog door. One of the two.
The standoff at the customer service desk remains tense for much too long, before suddenly, there is a heroic figure. Someone all Costco employees fear.
"Yeh hah hah! Seems to be a problem!" The voice of reason, the voice of fear, the voice of--
No, it's just Ryuhaku Todoh wearing a Groucho Marx mask and a paper badge that says 'MANAGER NOT TODOH' on it.
"WHY HELLO!" He slaps his hands down on the desk, "You see there was, aahhhhh... a mistake, yes, they're all actually eighty dollars and you can buy 'em right here, cash only please!"
He extends a palm.
In Takuma's defense, he has had enough of a history with that specific mask - the moustache alone is seared into his brain, crystal-clear - that knee-jerk reactions are in no way convenient or helpful. Well, in this case they are, but in most cases, they're absolutely miserable; Takuma does poorly with many plumbers and moustache-endowed men, for example. Nonetheless, Todoh's sudden appearance prompts several Costco employees to - yes - flee, while some less-savvy customers simply watch, bewildered.
Sakazaki is staring at the manager, wide-eyed, bull-necked, and frowning. The hairs on his neck are standing tall, and his fingers ITCH. "E-eighty... EIGHTY DOLLARS??! THIS IS EXTORTION!" Takuma is nonetheless a gentleman, and as such, he cannot help but reach forward to ensnare Not Todoh's hand in his own. It is perhaps the least equal handshake to have ever graced this Costco.
So equal that the Magic Marker might just fall out of Not Todoh's sleeve. It prompts not just a gasp from the Kyokugen master, all of the gathered onlookers, as well.
Takuma finally realizes Todoh's nametag. He -sees- the "NOT" scribbled in in Magic Marker. His cry is guttural and intense.
"RYUHAKUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!" The fire alarm begins sounding off.
Sakazaki is too busy throwing his gypsy robe into Todoh's masked face to notice!
COMBATSYS: Takuma has started a fight here.
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Takuma 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Todoh has joined the fight here.
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Takuma 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Todoh
COMBATSYS: Takuma successfully hits Todoh with Weakened Small Thrown Object.
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Takuma 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Todoh
Oh, Todoh, always thinking his harebrained schemes to get people to pay up money for absolutely no reason thinking they'll work. This is the seventeenth time the Marx mask thing hasn't worked. Will he ever learn?
"Yup! Eighty bucks, I didn't make this up just now, I can pretend to check the register or something or whatever it is you peons do, I've never worked one in my liiiEEEEARGH!" It is such an inequal handskae that not only does a magic marker fall out of his sleeve. There's at least a couple paperclips, Robert's iPod, the keys to some other construction vehicle he, um, FOUND, and of course at least four different fans.
It all culminates in a robe being flung into his face with such force the mask visibly shatters into tiny pieces, as though an evil curse has been forever dispelled from this world. The rest of his body hits a pile of recalled products that, naturally, shatter and break everywhere in a dramatic cloud of dust.
There is maniacal laughter coming from this pile!
"You fool, Sakazaki!!" Todoh calls triumphantly even with blood going down one nostril as he hoists the robe up high. "You were actually interested in this! There are many like it but now it's mine! Yeh hah hah!" He starts to wave it about mockingly in front of him from the not-at-all-protective safety of the counter. "You wanna check out with it /now/, ya gotta catch meeeee!"
At which point he just hurls himself over the counter and starts making a mad cackling dash over to where they serve cheap, cheap food that was totally not just taken from a local convenience store after the items in question passed their sell by dates.
COMBATSYS: Todoh takes no action.
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Takuma 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Todoh
Rage always prompts moments wherein a man feels he has acted rashly. This is one such moment. Sakazaki can't be upset that his instincts were RIGHT, but as he hears Todoh's cackling laughter, sees the garbage falling out of the other 'master''s sleeve -- he realizes he's thrown his robe - HIS ROBE - straight into the face of his most hated rival. Whatever the case may be, it's ruined now, never to be worn by Sakazaki. The mere chance that Todoh's germs or skin or -anything- might touch his bare skin is too much for the old man to bear.
Takuma turns on his heel, staring bullets at the retreating Todoh. Nearby, people are retreating, sprinting for store exits. The fire alarms are going off! There's obviously a fire somewhere!
Sakazaki is too embroiled in his passions and forever-lost bathrobe to care.
"...--Todoh--." He begins to sprint after the smaller man, that same, stiff-armed, hilariously generic run men might remember from his earlier King of Fighters appearances. He stops right before the countertop Todoh has vanished behind, slapping hands on its surface, scouring its menu! Surely, there are clues there!
COMBATSYS: Takuma takes no action.
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Takuma 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Todoh
The clues are many! Junk food like pizza by the slice for seemingly cheap but actually rather overpriced! Smoothies! Local delectables like some kind of seaweed fries! Churros.
There must be a lot of clues.
Meanwhile, Todoh does the only smart thing he can think of and tosses a pizza out of an oven onto the floor - thanks to the cover of the fire alarm - and decides to stuff himself in an oven with the prize, shutting the door behind him.
Yes, this is the perfect hiding spot.
Log created on 17:13:54 01/12/2011 by Todoh, and last modified on 10:36:22 10/20/2014.