Description: A man finds himself in Southtown. His past is a blur. But this place was familiar. A name returns to him. Keith. He wanders out to find more familiar things. More remembers to rise to the surface. But in its place, he comes across a strange person with a stranger presence: The infamous Daniel Jack, Detective of Todoh.
The streets of Southtown is often the place where many things happen. This is especially true within the heart and soul of the town itself: Downown. It occupies the largest part of the peninsula, the urban streets that thrives off of money, and yet are far from the aristocrats of the business district. Crime is pretty high at times...
People pass by here and there. That is the name of the game. In particular, one generally goes along with that flow. Not one to try to put himself out there, the wandering NESTS experiment is blending in with the crowd, quietly walking along the sidewalk with both hands tucked into his jacket. The hoodie rests over his head, obscuring most of his face, though the height may add a bit of an intimidation factor to those average-sized.
Casting a glance here and there, Keith is surveying around him, taking in the streets with a bit of curiosity.
Crime was the least of this city's worries.
People pass by. Concerned people. Fearful people. Crime was on the minds of so many people. The violence that was unfolding in the harbor was rumored to be spreading. Dangerous gangsters have been spotted in Downtown itself, attacking some of the locals. Memories of the old wars return, the old gangland madness. So many people were thinking, thinking of the specter of dread that loomed over the city.
But not for one man.
His worry was crabgrass.
The figure is hardly subtle. The figure is hardly faceless. But where one man was idly inspecting the city around him, a brightly-dressed man tears through the crowd. Adorn in a bright orange three piece zoot suit, the dark-skinned man strides with the clack of hard-heeled black shoes. Hands deep in his pockets, a black felt porkpie hat hangs over his head, a pair of rose tinted glasses adorned before his glowering eyes. That itself might not be the reason why the crowd was so readily parting for the crazed-looking man.
That might be the sheathed machete dangling from his belt.
The man's eyes snaps with intensity across the sidewalk of the downtown. And every place his eyes cast upon, was the green fronds of the offensive grass, breaking through the cement. It was hardly unusual. It was bad upkeep, maybe. Or perhaps, it was part of the 'naturalization' of Southtown's urban landscape. But Daniel knew the truth. Teeth gritted, he knew the TRUTH of the crabgrass. He was dead focused on the grass that seemed to be everywhere now, blazing through the crowds as if he was on a mission from God himself.
So focused, in fact, that he bumps his shoulder squarely into the hoodied stranger's own.
Keith is pretty observant, knowing that there are people slowly parting from up ahead. He squints his eyes, nonplussed over the situation as that man is tearing through the crowd. In fact, Keith is able to feel everyting around him.
There is a sudden shift of emotions. Franticness. That slowly spreads from person to person as they start parting from the incoming man's vicinity. It causes the stranger to stumble, holding his head as he feels nearly nauseated by the sensation of so many frantic emotions. It's similar to a static noise that goes on at a low volume that gradually becomes more irritating, but the rate has increased by thousands.
"Ngghh...!"
Keith's guard is down. It is more than a perfect opportunity for the stranger to blaze through and bump into the massive man.
"---What the..?!" He stumbles back, narrowing his eyes while trying to shake the cobwebs out of his head. As he tries to see the man who blurred before him, even his vision is undergoing the white and black staticy signal.
A break in the flow.
The brightly-garbed man stops cold as impact is met. He doesn't yield on impact. He simply stops. His focus shifts harshly from the ground to Keith's own feet. He inspects the frame, the clothing, those judging eyes piercing through the other man's. Diligently, his gaze casts up the large man's body, a scowl cast rigidly on his face. Brows were furrowed, brown eyes focused on brown eyes. But while that tight-lipped grimace doesn't not crack just yet, it seems that there was no anger, no aggression coming from the zoot-suited stranger.
After all, Daniel Jack was the one who bumped into him.
Daniel's own eyes are cold, grim affairs. Underneath his facade was his own mess of passions, his own worries, his own theories. Not all related to crabgrass. But many dedicated in ending the foul plant. He was on a mission from Todoh. He was a hero of Todoh. He had to conquer the invasive plant that was coiling around the neck of this beautiful city. And with the Sword of Todoh, one of three Sacred treasures of Todoh, given to him by the one and only Saishu of the Kusanagi clan, that victory was so close he could dig it.
Not that this stranger would know, or understand.
Cold judging eyes lock into Keith's own. Whether or not he meets the gaze, Daniel will focus. Whatever storm of thoughts and emotions that brewed in him before, was now replaced by total attention on this man. Dark Skinned. Perhaps an American like him, perhaps an old Southtown local. Big guy. Brawler build, in his twenties. But he looked confused. Distracted. Probably lost in his own thoughts, just like the detective himself. Steadily, a hand comes out of his pocket. Palm open, he extends it to the stranger, his expression refusing to soften.
"Sorry, scuzzy, didn't mean to ram you something real solid there.""
Keith is discovering one of the many disadvantages of his powers that manifested: There are so many thoughts that it's easy to become lost in them. It's a tidalwave of eotions that can literally whisk a person away if they are not careful. This is the case for Keith. With all of the frantic emotions, he is experiencing that static of information overload. It is a frightening experience.
But, he snaps back to reality, finding himself face to face with a shorter black male. Another American? Keith squints for a few moments, looking the man over while he assesses the zoot-suit wearing man.
His voice lacks an edge, likely due to the confusion he is still in. "Scuzzy..?"
Then, it finally stops. Everything calms. Once everything calms, he is looking more calm. The expression is serious, but a grin follows suit to loosen the edge. "..Don't sweat it. Probably a man on a mission. I ain't stopping that."
There was something off.
Daniel couldn't put his finger on it. There was something different about this stranger. As he inspects the man, he tries to get a read. Daniel couldn't tell if he was talking to a confused introvert, or a serial killer who just got caught. There was just something hidden. But then, it stops. A calm runs through. Daniel listens. He stares. As Keith's smiles comes out, there is a moment of uncertainty. It does not last long. The grimace shatters, the steely face melts away, as a full, sincere grin cuts through.
"Damn straight."
Daniel Jack didn't see a threat. As the crowds keeps their distance between the two, Daniel Jack nods firmly, the rest of his body language softening. First impressions often kept Daniel intact. That was the way of the street. You kept a certain swagger, you kept certain types off your back. The detective's voice softens, as he follows up. "Hey, man, The name's Daniel Jack, Private Eye." The detective keeps his hand extended, ready for a handshake.
"What's your name, scuzzy?"
Through the course of the conversation, the lingering emotions slowly subsided, easing the tensions on Keith. No more was he picking up the high amount of frantic emotions from the stranger, shorter man before him. This was a relief to the introverted man. While the man doesn't seem too bad of a guy, his actions just worked up the nerves too quickly.
A blink is given in disbelief, "A detective, huh...?" He looks over the man's attire a bit more carefully. After a moment of inspecting the man, the taller streetwalker grins, "Yeah, I can see it."
The hand is extended his way.
Keith looks over at the hand carefully. He decides agains his better judgment and extends his hand over towards the shorter man. "Keith Walker." He has recited that enough times to believe that was his name. It has to be.
The fear of touching that hand, however, Keith knows that the feelings that he'll pick up will be more intense than the waves of the frantic emotions that he picked up.
Daniel used to be restrained.
That was in the older days. When he was just a bum that wandered into Southtown, to escape from the misery of Metro City. When he broke out for a second chance. When he was beaten by Todoh, when he joined Todoh. But back in those days, he was just scraping by, having to rely on tools to get an edge. These days, though. These days he was a man who come across a stranger, and take him on boldly. Nothing could keep him down. He was an unstoppable force. And as Keith returns the hand, he might get a flash of that force.
He might get that rush of passion.
Daniel Jack latches on the hand firmly, giving it a swift shake. Underneath his tense exterior, the detective's aura flickered and burned; Daniel Jack's icy exterior hid a heart of fire. "Keith Walker." He repeats, nodding firmly as he releases his hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you. Are you new in town? You just got these far off eyes, staring a million miles away, you dig?" The detective focuses hard on Keith, the focus not breaking despite the warming presence. Daniel Jack was being nice. But Keith might keep that strange feeling for a reason.
The detective was picking him apart silently.
The look on the man's face is a grimace. It is a pure grimace that escapes the man's face. That overflowing abundance of passion. It is a fiery spirit that is oddly invigorating, but due to the sensations unknown, Keith is trying to quickly draw back from the hand.
Once he finally retracts and gains some distance, his eyes focus towards Daniel. He tries to maintain his composure. "...Yeah, I'm pretty far." He considers the next part on how to explain his situation.
"...Not sure, really. But, just gettin' my bearin's here." He considers, "It looks like you have. We ain't exactly mixed well here, y'know."
He doesn't like the touch.
A red light sparks in the back of Daniel's mind. He seems uncomfortable at the touch. A flash of leering caution overtakes the detective's face, before getting stifled by that warm facade. He saw that. Keith was a mystery to Daniel, that much was certain. But there were these small tells that let him turn the pages in his book. But he couldn't have him remain uncomfortable. He wasn't trying to scare the man.
"What, mixed well?"
Daniel Jack chuckles a bit, a somewhat phony laugh saved for small talk like this. "Nah, I used to think what you had to do is mix in. To take the color of the locals, so to speak." The detective jabs a thumb at a poor salaryman in a business suit, The stranger halts warily, face turning red as he hurries away from the duo. Daniel doesn't seem to be aware, and continues. "But what the real secret is to make everyone feel pressured to mix in with you."
"I mean, check out these duds."
The detective grabs the breast of suit jacket, holding out a flap of it with one hand. Underneath the orange coat was a black waistcoat, and the sign of a concealed holster, tucked by his armpit. Daniel, unphased at showing off his arsenal to a stranger, continues. "When I came to town with this thing? People were telling me that it was the dumbest and gaudiest thing they saw. But once I started making it big? I stopped hearing anything. Just think, in a few years? This will be the number one fashion right here in Southtown. Right up there with those guys dressing like girls, and those girls that dress like Victorian girls." Closing his jacket, he crosses his arms, nodding firmly. "Anyways, what brings you in town?" The detective pauses, before hastily adding.
"Oh, I mean, if you don't mind me asking, scuzzy."
Silence passes for a couple of moments from Keith in this interaction. Keith is feeling wary; not of Daniel himself, but his own power that affords him the capacity to feel other people's emotions. That was more intense than the presence of the emotions from the populace.
A single touch. It makes Keith wonder: what if he felt a malevolent energy. It is something that he puts away, mentally hoping to not encounter.
The topic is thankfully on the subject of mixing in. "Hrm..?" His eyes drift at the salaryman, who becomes embarassed before he departs. Keith glances back at Daniel, smirking slightly. "...Heh. Maybe so." He shakes his head for a moment, "I'll prefer blending in. Less of a hassle."
After all, Daniel was a one in a million chance of someone crossing his path. As for why he is in town, "...Trying to get settled in. Don't know. Maybe make a life for myself here." He lifts his eyes up to gaze out at the hundreds of people out and about.
"This seems like an interesting place, after all."
There might be a flare of malevolence, underneath that smile.
There might be malevolence if Daniel knew some of the truths on Keith. Malevolence on a power that the detective distrusted. A power that Daniel had too long been a victim to. A power he saw with Shadaloo. There might malevolence if Daniel knew just how attuned Keith was to his emotions, his feelings. It might be all too easy for Daniel to take that underlying energy, and to pour it all into Keith with the sheer intent of destruction.
But for now, it was a nice guy on the street.
Daniel Jack inspects Keith again as he talked about getting settled in. The once over, all over again. "It takes all kinds. Blending in is a fine choice." He drawls a bit, frisking into his coat. "And it is an interesting city. Plenty of opportunities for a fresh start." From his coat, a small case is brought out, carved of mother of pearl. The shimmering case is popped open, revealing a stack of business cards. The man looks down at his case, inspecting the cards as he continues. "You looking for any work in particular? I got a kind of network here in the city. If you got something in mind, I might be able to give you their card. Can't let a good guy like you be an outcast like that. Outcasts end up burning up, fading away..." The detective pauses.
"... Or worse. Much worse."
A bemused look crosses Keith's lips as Daniel concedes with the idea of blending in. Keith adds, "Some people just don't wanna to be in the spotlight." Himself included. "... Not really worth it." He muses thoughtfully, then he eyes he case popped open. With the card presented out to him, Keith considers the offer, "...You know, a bit of work wouldn't be bad, actually. Gotta feed the bills." Well, provided that he finds a joint to stay at. After all, he doesn't want to bum the streets forever. Maybe some small apartment to crash at.
Or somewhere more inconspicious.
Fading away sounds good. However, when he implies a worser fate than fading, Keith's eyes narrow. "Hrm..." He looks thoughtful, "Can't say that I got a card, I'm 'fraid. Though, I tend to do physical work for folks if it's available."
It hadn't even registered in Daniel's mind that this guy didn't have a home yet.
As the man confesses he doesn't need the spotlight, Daniel Jack just files that away. The detective himself couldn't claim he took the same. He had some reputation on various forums of hogging the spotlight. His interview parallel to that teenage girl, Intan, reflected his often bombastic personality in comparison to others. The same was even happening now; the detective had come out of nowhere, slipped out from the crowds, to run into Keith. It was worth it to Daniel to stand out, to break out, to be able to take someone like Keith one on one, and burn into his mind. But as the stranger takes one of the cards, Daniel's eyes go wide.
The detective's hand goes to the machete hanging on his right flank.
Patting the weapon, Daniel Jack remembers. In meeting this stranger, he had been distracted from his cause to save the city to which.... well, the man was relatively okay with. Helping people who needed help, in the immediate, in the now, was just as valuable as saving a city from the threat of crabgrass. There were higher causes, yes, but for the detective? There was no higher cause than a random act of kindness. Of course, when Keith himself can't provide a card, the detective begins to shuffle through the case of cards.
"Physical work, huh?"
Daniel Jack draws out cards, one by one. "There are a lot of little things you can do, if you want physical stuff. I heard the harbor is short people; and paying good money for teamsters. Check out Qayim Shipping and Receiving, A Heinlein Company, a real nice place to work. There are a few others places of work around town; the schools are good place for some work, they are always looking for some labor. I also know for a fact that Landscaping is very important now. Especially with all that..."
The detective casts a glare to the sidewalk.
"... All that -crabgrass-"
A tone of disgust pours from the detective, brow furrowed in rage at a weedy vine poking through the concrete. Nose twisted up, he focuses back on Keith, his expression softening. "Course, I might need some muscle in due time." The detective considers carefully. A delicate subject, especially for a stranger. He wasn't sure the best way to ask this. But maybe the best way was the most direct way. Daniel clears his throat, holding out the cards as he snaps the case shut.
"... Are you a fighter, scuzzy?"
There is a moment to eye the machete that the man has. He cannot help but look the weapon over, half-wondering -why- the man is so focused and so intent. Hesquints a little more, but his attention is drawn away once Daniel brings up some possible places to work.
Keith says, "Hrm, I could help out with those." He muses a little more, then he slowly lifts his head. "I will definitely look into those, thanks."
However, the conversatin takes a turn for the weird. "...Crabgrass? What is this crabgrass that you're talking about?" The young man runs a hand over the back of his head. He shakes his head a moment later, shrugging it off.
%However, the qustion is brought over to Keith.
Instinctively, his fists tighten. There is a faint urge to do something. Punch something. It feels empty that he hasn't fought anything or struck anything with his fists. "...I suppose I am. There is always the urge to punch something." He lifts his shoulders, "I'm a boxer."
"Oh, the crabgrass that is threatening to take over this town."
Daniel's aside was brief, but a bright flash of energy. For a moment, the most important thing in the world was stopping that crabgrass. A crabgrass born from the lawn of Todoh, that swiftly spread to the city from the Kyokugen Dojo. A crabgrass that threatens an ecological disaster of legends. A crabgrass that, according to legends, could only be stopped by the power of Todoh, and the Three Sacred Treasures of Todoh.
Fortunately, Daniel did not dwell on it long.
Instead, the nature of urges comes up. "A boxer, huh? I got a friend who's a boxer. Well, more of a rival. But enemies make the best friends, right?" The detective gives a moment for the joke to sink in. "But if you need to punch things, I definitely can put you on hand for some muscle work. If you like, I can also get you in on some tournaments and fighting circuits. Neo-Development Project might still be kicking around, you get about $500 a fight, and it gets you some decent exposure. More if you win, of course. But hey, money is money." The detective tucks away his case. "You got my card though. I'm not really an agent, you know, but hey. Opportunities are opportunities."
"And it's better to punch things for good causes, you hear me right?"
"..Crabgrass threatening to take over the town?" He squints, "...Daniel, are you high?" There is nothing more incredelous than that. The taller man just looks over the shorter man as if he has a third eye. The man is trying to fathom this predictament. However, he shakes his head, lifting his shoulders with a shrug.
"...Ahh nevermind."
It would be better to get away from the crabgrass situation. The less he knows, the better. Nevertheless, the topic of a boxer comes up. "...Is that so?" He squints, then the smirk grows. "Well, it has been a while since I had a proper boxing match." There is the urge to box against someone again. But, when the topic of tournaments come up, Keith flinches. There is something familiar about the feeling of the tournament rings. Keith doesn't know why. Maybe it is the publicity thing. "Hrm.." He looks contemplative for a moment. However, he concedes, "Money is money."
As he holds the card, Keith pockets it carefully. "Thanks, Daniel. I'll remember this." He then starts to turn away, "...However, I should be going now." As soon as Keith is walking into the crowd of people.
"I'll catch you later."
Daniel will find that Keith had vanished into the crowd. Even with the size of the man, Keith tend to blend in with the crowd well.
Daniel was high.
High on the SPIRIT of TODOH!
"What? No! I'm not high! And I only had a handle of morning whiskey!" The detective insists. The warm expression fades away, as he crosses his arms. Turning his back to Keith, he tightens a fist as he stares down. Energy flares up within him, as flickers of chi bite on his shoulders. "This is very serious! Very important! I have to save Southtown! I have to save Japan! I have to save-"
"Oh, right!"
elaxing a mark, he looks back over his shoulder, as the last shadows of Keith slipping in the crowds. The detective's eyes snap around, the detective uncrossing his arms as he looks into the mass of people. He turns around more, scanning around. But just as quickly as the stranger burst into his day, he had slipped away. A low profile, he said. "Yeah, uh, you get going." The detective places a hand on his machete, as he adjust his glasses.
That wasn't the last he would see of the stranger, he bet.
Log created on 23:15:52 08/08/2013 by Daniel, and last modified on 22:40:09 08/10/2013.