Description: All right. We all know about how the schools, the YFCC, Geese, a bunch of opportunistic mercenaries, NESTS experiments, and certain gambits by shady people with nebulously good intentions played out. We've seen friendships forged, alliances broken, chances taken, values challenged, and paradigms shifted. But we're missing something here, aren't we? Yes, we are. Why did Todoh's laundry never dry? Even without having scored any new students in this so-called tourist season, is the Todoh way that worse off? Find out, in the scene that settles all accounts and hanging threads. (WARNING: THIS ENDING IS THE CANON ENDING)
Sacrifices were abound throughout the invasion of Southtown. Some were noble, offerings put forward before a great ideal, set as ends that would justify those agonizing needs. Others were victims, innocents cast forth before swines, only to be consumed with greedy, insatiable hunger. And then, some were like the Todoh-Ryuu Kobojutsu Dojo. Those were faced with an interesting situation. Not quite victims, and certainly far from noble.
No, the Todoh Dojo just suffered from bad luck.
As Southtown began to stabilize, the traditional fortune of Todoh waned. Soldiers forced there way out of the city like exit wounds from a bodkin arrowhead. This sanctuary for everything that was not Kyokugen was beginning to get rebuilt, slowly and gingerly with the kind of well-reasoned, dedicated efficiency found throughout the entire art of Todoh-Ryuu Kobojutsu. In other words, the foundation was down, as well a little bit of the framework up.
Outside the Dojo, Daniel Jack just stared grimly.
"Legs, keep it cooking. I gotta destiny to jack up." The detective drops off the tank, pulling a three point landing only a bit shortchanged. Pulling himself upright, he wriggles his form to a bring about a strong stature. Daniel has been whipped, beaten, run-over, disgraced, humiliated in front of Kyokugen, lost everything he own, then stabbed, beaten some more, and ended up hanging in the background of several important events.
Clearly, it was time to take the next step in the Way of Todoh.
Daniel Jack walked towards the open foundation of the ruined Dojo. The smell of drywall and sawdust filled the air, yet not the sound of hard work. It seemed that today was the day off for the workers. Or maybe just on an extended break. Or maybe... maybe there weren't any workers, and there were just a single, well-mustached worker. Daniel's expression remains unchanged as he took the long, hard steps to where the entrance to the Dojo once stood. The detective stopped, crossing his arms. With a gaze so intense that it would have cut through the entire building, the detective spoke loud, strong, and across the entire grounds. Seeped in the symbolism that marked this moment, Daniel Jack called out to his spiritual leader.
"Master Todoh, I have returned."
So how did the one and only Master Todoh pull himself out from underneath four trees felled by his own UNMATCHED MIGHT(?) and drag his battered, beaten form back to the dojo? It wasn't easy, shut up, NEXT QUESTION!
No questions, just statements. The aging man, still barely clad in his loincloth, dirt, bruises, cuts, and the occasional dried blood he has neglected to wash off his person. Come to think of it, that's why he was at last coaxed to do the laundry - of which he stands before now, one part of the dojo that has remained intact in spite of every reason for it not to. The damp clothes dangle there motionlessly. Even the wind is afraid to touch them.
Speaking of which, how long has it been? They still aren't dry, as evidenced by the further droplets of water that have considered themselves not worthy enough to dampen his trademark outfit that, surely, he must have in eight different colors or so like any self-respecting fighter these days.
The master(?) stands with his arms crossed, back facing one of his greatest pupils as eyes fall upon this conundrum of proportions even he must acknowledge is getting a little too silly for his worldview. To this end, his pupil has taken after him well. Their posture is, mathematically, identical - even across physical differences that would seemingly make this impossible, such as their different height, weight, various body proportions... but yet, it is what it is, even as the two are looking into entirely different places of interest.
With the announcement of Daniel's return, the old man's head turns. Hm. He is here. The remaining grass on a lawn that, frankly, was improved from the razing any enemy soldiers may have inflicted rustle as he hops along up around the back. It takes only several seconds for the front door of the dojo to slide open so hard it causes one of the recently set new wooden supports to fall over.
"So you have." The elder Todoh says evenly, with narrowed eyes and a continued disconcerting lack of much in the way of clothing. "Yes. Yes you have."
It has been two months since those clothing have fought off being dried.
Master Todoh's lack of clothing might have disconcerted the old Daniel Jack. The red loincloth, once a fine piece of swimwear, was tattered in the long war. Another sacrifice in the endless fighting that was waning. The new Daniel, however, is not troubled by such meaningless things. No. Master Todoh could have shown up wearing a chicken suit, and the detective would have reacted the same way. He does not react to his sensai as he glares back at him.
Nor does he react to the crashing of the support post, destruction returning with the meeting of the master and student.
A silence follows as Daniel Jack stares at his master, a darker reflection of Ryuhaku. Grimly, his arms continued to cross, his glare continue to burn with a frigid intensity. It was the BURNING SPIRIT of TODOH that brought him here. To call him Todoh's best student is by far not the greatest stretch. Short of Kasumi, Daniel Jack has the honor of being the only active student of Todoh that has shown a great deal of talent. And yet, he had a single failure for his master. With the slow, elegant movements of the crane, Daniel Jack eyes drifted away from his master, focusing behind him. And just as carefully, he turned them back into the mostly naked man. His heart knew the rite of passage he had to do. He did not question it's meaning, nor it's purpose. It was just the drive of the Spirit of Todoh. His lips do not warn of what comes next. The words, they do not flow out as much as they fly out, like a single steel bar, cutting through the air.
"I have come to dry the laundry, sensai."
Between these two men, there are many things about recent events that have put one another on edge. The edge, of which only TRUE MANLINESS and ABSOLUTE MASTERY lies, for both have peered into a void of different sorts - and both now return, many weeks after they first parted ways. Is there disappointment in the old master's eyes? Annoyance? A sign that his pupil has worn out his welcome for deeds and misdeeds alike, imagined or otherwise?
If there is any surprise to these words of his pupil's, it does not show. No. It is expected, for Daniel was allowed to live among his family while he was out doing... whatever it is this man does when he's out. Few are ever sure any more.
His eyes narrow more, his stance unmoving in the face of the unintentional self-performed hindrance of the recovery efforts of the dojo for the umpteenth time. For this is a far more grave matter than his home and livelihood falling apart, no, this is a man of high expectations for the world around him. Unrealistic, one may say. But there is one thing between a man grounded in reality and its worst, and one tethered to his perceptions against the many pieces of evidence contrary to it.
"So, it is now you wish to dry it, eh? Instead of while I was out!!" The man harrumphs, turning his back to start pacing... in place? "But perhaps then I would not have seen it! Yes. Hm. For I was busy with... with obnoxious self-promoting losers!! With nothing to do than to antagonize hard-working people with wholesome devotion to martial arts, to disrupt their sacred routines for sake of some petty little misgiving!"
"They were some recruiting pyramid scheme or something!! They made off with almost all my prospective students!!" His teeth grind. "But we'll show them! They'll see how you dry my laundry and they'll come begging ME for forgiveness, that's what! So... ah... my dear, dedicated student," not so much a respected title as much as having forgotten the man's name for the moment, it was on the tip of his tongue, like... Dave or something, as he turns his head slowly behind him while he still appears to be, for all intents and purposes, pacing in place.
"It is time to turn the chapter. Yes, you," he points, "shall dry my laundry!!"
All fighters, when they reach a point in their fighting career, must complete some small, almost meaningless side quest. Some must throw projectiles to achieve enlightenment. Some gain spirit by cutting bottles in half. Others only achieve their great step in personal growth by breaking cars, destroying them with punches and kicks.
Daniel Jack had to clean laundry.
The adventures that Master Todoh had brought respect to the student of Todoh. He had faith in his master, for lacking faith was weakness. Only through absolute confidence could one defeat one's opponents, and be free while doing so. And through this confidence, the prized pupil of the one Ryuhaku Todoh would bring back the countless students stolen away from the Dojo. Certainly, while Todoh was sort of embellishing his story through the distorted lens known as 'Todoh logic,' Daniel didn't think about it. There was thing that the detective needed, and had now.
In a flash of raw energy, Daniel Jack uncrosses his arms, snapping his fist deep into the heart of his palm. A small flash of his inner chi rolled over him, billowing through the cloth of his uniform. With a deep bow, he gives his respect to his source of inner wisdom. "Yes, sensei." The detective spits, striking out with his words. It was close to being a challenge to the first heart and soul of Todoh, yet seemed to not aim at him. No, it was leveled straight at the very world held by his Master's high standards. Rising up, his eyes locked upon the distant laundry, hanging limply, still dripping. Briskly, he stepped across the ruined grounds of the dojo, approaching the clothing. He stops short in front of the clothing, inspecting every aspect of his master's life before him. Soon, Todoh would move in position, standing in the background as he judged the great demonstration of the magnificent might of Todoh-Ryuu Kobojutsu.
And quietly, he meditated his next action, closing his eyes shut.
The old man's head turns back towards thin air, further down into the ruins of his proud standing (...reclining, chillaxing?) home at the problem sleuth's affirmation of the task at hand. Yes. All that is left to do is for Daniel Jack to prove his worth as not just a student, not just as a Todoh, but truly a Man of Vision... and also as an especially useful errand boy. Such is the relationship between this Master and his Student.
There is hardly an audio cue to the man's movement as he leaves Daniel's line of sight. Somehow, within a span of a couple seconds, he's gone on and decided to stand in a neighbor's yard with no fence or anything of the sort between them. A neighbor whose family fled during the war and has yet to come back, sporting its own damages from the fighting - the entire western half has collapsed. A yard Ryuhaku Todoh has long despised for, if nothing else, having a nicer lawn than his. (That's not that hard an achievement.)
Trespassing for sake of looming mysteriously in the background of Daniel's efforts, naturally, is never beneath him.
The laundry is damp. There is no question about its cleanliness, save for whatever soot or dust from war that it may have collected traces of. This laundry is ready to be freshly warn again, with but one stipulation - despite it hanging on the pole for nearly two months, it remains damp. Wet. A mystery. A /menace/ of inconvenience and improbability. A situation befitting the one it has been inflicted upon. For all the various trials the old man has inflicted upon Daniel, this should be a simple, easy task to wring out every trace of moisture so that this man can once again roam Southtown and beyond... and not get arrested for indecency.
From seemingly nowhere, the old man draws two fans, both proudly bearing the flag of his great homeland, waving them up and down in a steady yet tireless pace, keeping perfect cycle without variation.
The Bonus Round has begun.
Daniel Jack suddenly snaps his right leg back, grinding it down to the soft ground. His arms tense, winding back. The detective brings his palms parallel to the clothing, his finger-tips drawn inwards. Eyes locked upon the long, worn white shirt, he smoothly unleashes a rapid chain of palm strikes. It was a perfect form, much like the drills like he master forced him through. Dull thumps echo as the hands impact, drops of water scatter through the air. The shirts began to brighten as the water that possessed them went falling to the ground. A clatter is heard upon striking the great breastplate of Todoh.
Daniel grimaces, drawing his entire body back. Flattening his hand, he cuts across his body, unleashing a single chop across the shirt. A great wave of water flings across as the dampness is freed. With a single strike of the world's greatest hand chop, the red armor of Todoh is freed of such moisture. Daniel Jack twists his form around, positioning himself to the pants his great master. The detective stared, his eyes burning at the sopping mass of cloth. Like a monkey plucking a grape from the vine, the freelance police officer snatched the pants.
With the skills of grappling and throws, Daniel Jack twisted his body. A sharp snap cracks across the yard as detective whips the pants as he would a human being, the inner fluid cascading across the weedy grass. Daniel brought the same perfect form, and flips the dry pants across his shoulder. Snapping off another pair of pants, he rapidly snapped in a quick succession, not just using simple pushes to crack the pants, but his limbs and joints to assist. As a stack of flawless dry pants lingered on his shoulders, he turned, facing the last challenge.
The intimates of the Todoh family stood before Daniel Jack. With the undergarments, headbands, sashes, and socks before him, the test of Daniel's iron will was dropped before him. Time was off the essence. The detective focused, flexing his arms as he drew his fists inwards to his chest. A flare of orange energy boiled over his body. Eyes burning with the WAY of TODOH, he focuses upon the clothing. Raising both of his arms up, a wave of energy manifested in the pits of his palms. With a smooth swipe, he brings a wave of energy forward. "KASANE ATE!" Burning the cloth slightly, the energy cuts through the remaining clothing. There is a sizzle as the moisture is forced out by the sheer will of a true student of Todoh, and with that, the deed is done.
Dryness has come to the Todoh Dojo.
Daniel Jack stares, flicking his fingers. A single cigarette appears, already lit. Promptly, the detective sticks it between his lips, and takes a smooth, long draw. Turning back over to his trespassing sensei, he bows deeply, his honorable errand done.
Honor has returned(?!) to the Todoh Dojo.
Every last second, no attention is spared from the discerning(?), all-knowing(?) eye of one Ryuhaku Todoh. Each movement, each flex of a muscle, the man maintains the superfluous dancing in the background to cheer on Daniel's further mastery of all he has been taught, through all the tests he has taken, through all the scrapes he has suffered. For a dojo steeped in irreverent intrigue that, at the surface, is little more than a quack old man's and his daughter's failing attempts to spread his fighting style, it is these moments that often escape critical eyes. These very moments, that show beyond all reason to doubt, the power of perseverance and dedication even when you have an insufferable old man breathing down one's neck about issues that hardly seem worth the trouble he gives them.
Tears start to stream down his eyes within the last ten seconds of this student performing the task before him with such accuracy, with acceptable efficiency... it is truly one of the proudest moments of his life. Words need not be said between them as the two politely bow. The younger man has ways to go yet, but he, truly, shall be his emissary to all the doubters.
For where words are not needed, a subtle hiss of rushing water has to do in its place from some couple of yards behind the old man. Something that pulls him out of this happy moment where reality and delusion neatly coincide with one suddenly open eye straining to see what it is behind him.
The neighbors' sprinkler - an expensive, computerized luxury that maintains a strict programmed schedule - gushes forth with a torrent of water far beyond what is needed to keep a lawn happy and healthy even in the driest of times, its spray range simply unchecked in the haste to leave a hostile war zone with only the smallest respect given to the idea of making sure the lawn is at least in good shape for when (and if) the war comes to an end.
This great torrent of water reaches forth like the angry hand, nay, flyswatter of the gods themselves, following little more than its routine. A routine that can not be reasoned, bargained, or pleaded against as it washes up against the side of the dojo - the side where the clothes were being hung from, in fact - and the two martial artists within the wake of the big wave.
The culprit behind all of this mess has at last reared its ugly head!!
Just as much it is for Todoh, this is one of Daniel's greatest moments. As manly tears of joy run down Ryuhaku's face, something manifests in the depths of the sleuth's own eye. A mere glimmer, almost frozen by the intensity of the detective's own stare. Yet there it was. A single tear of joy, boiling forth from the depths of the hardboiled soul of a true master of investigative powers. Nothing could ruin this perfect moment as Daniel Jack would have moved up to the next belt, if it weren't for the fact that Todoh never actually mentioned a progression system at any point.
But then, fate slaps the Way of Todoh in the cheek.
There is a fact about the Way of Todoh. Todoh-Ryuu Kobojutsu cannot be suppressed. Like a strange rash you get from a very outgoing woman, it only seems to disappear for a few moments before coming back worse than ever. It was almost the whole existence of Todoh-Ryuu Kobojutsu: Raging against inevitable odds.
Daniel takes the rush of water with nary a blink. Standing firm, he rises back upright, a drowned cigarette drooping limply from his jaw. His hard work, undone. The rage that Master Todoh had against the world and neighbors filled his own soul. This was all the neighbors fault... as well as the fault of their lawn. Daniel Jack had worked on the lawn while Todoh was away, and he suddenly noticed how much better it looked. It was unfair. Clearly, there was only one thing to do. "Master Todoh, excuse me for a moment." The detective began as he picked up speed towards the backyard, eyes burning with an intense flame.
"I got some property to jack up."
The master(?) is no more reactive than his student as he receives the first taste of personal hygiene in a good long while. The universe canonnballed into his pool of Cheerios and then, as always, its kids peed in them.
Sopping wet into shock, the old man's moustache twitched every few seconds as the two of them share their wet, rainy fate by this malicious gardening tool that, beyond all odds, escaped everyone's notice. The very reason for much of this strife that has befallen all them. To Ryuhaku Todoh, absolutely each and every tragedy and setback these last two months can, at last, be traced to a confirmed source.
The sprinkler. The inside agent that orchestrated everything in order to keep that patch of land damp for its own agenda, gone unnoticed by so-called heroes scrambling without direction until those agents vaguely aligned with the sorts of evils they would not have tolerated in better times and ultimately brought together to make a difference.
The sprinkler is truly to blame for everything. In order for Southtown to return to its former glory, this sprinkler must be defeated! The wall of water starts to wave the other way, giving an brief - very brief - opening to assault. The strength and volume it expels water at is enough to virtually classify it as a defense weapon. The odds are against even the finest of Todoh students.
"...Why..." The older man finally deigns to speak, too frozen in sheer anger that even his teeth remain bared and his lips remain still. That, or the universe has decided to save some budget on lip synching. "Of course... yes." He starts to growl in accordance to rising blood pressure, naked feet sinking slightly into the damp mud.
Takeshi Toshizo was a quiet, peaceful accountant, working with a small public firm that handled fifty accounts in the Southtown Village area. When the city fell under attack, he simply packed up his clothing, his reports, and his pet turtle Gimpy, and left town in his Nissan. Now, he was back. Puttering around in his little car, he slows down to a stop when he sees the tank parked right outside... that Todoh place. Craning his neck out of the window, he squints from behind his glasses. Cautiously, he looked over at the the accursed property, seeing that the entire Dojo was leveled. Joy filled his heart for a moment, as it became clear that the crazy coot might finally be dead. Then, he spots something else. A young black man, dressed in a Todoh-Ryuu uniform, seemed to be leaping over the fence of the property, crossing over into one of his neighbors backyards. And, as he watched silently, the strange man began tearing apart the lawn, unleashing waves of pure energy into the ground.
Mr. Toshizo considers moving near that nice Kyokugen place.
"KASANE ATE! KASANE ATE! KASAN- GAAAAAA- gagglaglaurk-" From the moment he crossed that lawn, Daniel Jack began his revenge. Not just against him, but against every ideal that embodied Todoh. There was an openning, and he took it. Of course, as he began tearing apart the sprinkler with Kasane Ate, the pipe system exploded with greater, more erratic fury. The land was melting into a slimy mire of soil, grass, and water, with great fountains erupting through the land. All the hard work of the neighbor becoming undone. On the other hand, Todoh's lawn was looking better by the minute.
"Master Todoh! Jack it over here!" Daniel Jack roared, standing strong as the entire backyard was collapsing into itself, Daniel's action bringing about a greater evil than any man could contain. If the water got any further out of control, not only would the entire lawn be consumed, but the whole neighborhood would shift into a mire. If this was the time for Todoh-based heroics, it was now! Ignoring the fact he started this whole thing, he motioned to his sensei, sinking further and further in amongst the pillars of water. "We need get full and furious and bring both barrels onto it... with a Double Kasane Ate!"
If the landscape hydration system had feelings, it would be cowering in fear.
This place on the grid is no longer Southtown Village. It is quickly descending into Southtown Water Park. Maybe this was the plan of the evil sprinkler all along, to utilize the various cartels and organizations to level the entire city in which for it to realize its foul ambitions that benefit nothing else but itself. A sprinkler that has its... sprinklings? Whatever they are it is up to its pipes in blood. It is now up to these two men alone to bring it to justice.
"Ragginfragginmmrmrrghble," old Ryuhaku grunts as he kicks one of the laundry poles and stubs his toe, eliciting a loud yell drowned out by the war cries of Daniel Jack and the violent sprays of water. When those pipes burst, it's not just in that lawn - it's everywhere! One such blast of water during his toe-nursing imbalance knocks the man head over heels into the mud, which he starts to crawl (or swim - the difference is quickly becoming more and more apparent by the second) along.
"Aaaaaaaah HOLD YOUR HORSES!!" The old man yells above the mud as he crawls over some fence or another from an adjacent yard and plops himself haphazardly a good fifteen feet away or so. Poor Mr. Toshizo - the single happiest thought he could find in all this is all but gone as the backside of a nearly naked, mud-caked man he so despises all but condemns the situation to total loss.
"THIS FOUL PLUMBING SYSTEM HAS RUINED MY DAY FOR THE LAST TIME!!" The man yells above the rushing water and even gushing sewage, arms raised high as he summons up that chi energy to do his bidding. Or to be more specific, making it his bitch. For together, the two shall have the last laugh in this long extended campaign with despair and hopelessness, the culmination of everyone's efforts leading to this one brush with destiny.
The followthrough merely awaits Daniel's execution.
Mr. Toshizo's eyes swell shut in agony as Todoh shoes the accountant what Todoh does with all his junk. Having found out that he puts it in his trunk, Ryuhaku's muddy Todoh lumps leaves Toshizo driving away.
Mr. Toshizo questions his existence in the world.
Meanwhile, the churning bog that was slowly turning into the neighbor's yard opens up slightly, a rush of water blasting upwards. Daniel Jack stares into the depths of the opening, spying a small, metallic heart in the midsts of the byzantine plumbing. The entire grid was erupting in great plumes of grey water, the entire block at risk at falling into chaos. People were pouring out of their homes, staring at the chaos that was unfolding. The detective knew what had to be done.
Raising his arms up high, he stared at the water main. Orange chi cascaded over his soaked body, the BURNING SPIRIT of TODOH boiling from within. As his sensei fell besides him, he began to swing his arms downward. Certainly, striking the water main would help, right? Daniel sure hoped so. With that, the detective was sending a great wave of energy to tear straight to the water main, the energy burning as Daniel roared the attack's infamous title...
Despite all the yelling the old man does at people, animals, inanimate objects, and sometimes even thin air in particular, usually he keeps the actual syllable count about as low as possible (outside of whatever such instances he feels he should be yelling about at the same time, which is almost every time, so that kind of negates the point, doesn't it). Yet, in the spirit - this pulchritude-filled spirit - of his pupil against the entirety of Southtown's true enemy, he fills that little hole so that this latest inanimate object of his ire can remember it, even as water threatens to climb up to his knees as he throws down his arms alongside Daniel, combining little white-blue chi blades that rise form the ground (he keeps denying allegations that he actually picked up this particular expression of the infamous Kasane Ate off of Kasumi).
"...AT--ooougah!" A cough, but hardly something that can be easily registered against the sheer noise of COMPLETE AWESOME and ANNIHILATION OF ALL THAT RUINS TODOH'S DAY as the combined chi expressions explode expansively. Exciting! Excellent! Through the water and the sludge, the twin Todoh alpha strike launches forth, bright enough for all the horrified neighbors rushing outward to know that today, they owe the death of this wretched thing to one way.
A one way ticket to the One Way.
It took a while, but Mr. Toshizo finally makes it home. He leaves his car, far away from the chaos that the Todoh clan was bringing. The man's nerves were shot. The combination of fountains, mud-flaps, and general insanity was a shot to the heart. But at least it was calm here. The man took Gimpy's Turtle Shack from the car, and slowly walked towards his old home, keys in hand.
Suddenly, he felt a rumble beneath his feet.
Great waves of murky slime bellows out from the hole as the Kasane Ate slashed through the ground. With the clash of white and orange, the main suddenly crack, warping dangerously as it collapses in. Mysteriously, the water died down, the great fountains dying down. Daniel sunk quickly in the mire, not at all exhausted from the effort, but more bothered by the fact they just introduced marshland to the neighborhood.
And still, the detective stood there, the great foe defeated.
"... So this... was what jacking up all that stuff. Decent. Real decent, Master Todoh. I never knew you got so many enemies. Got anything else for me to jack up?" The detective stated with a feral grin, already heady with this new-found power. Suddenly, in the far off distance, a massive geyser erupts, a dull roar of murky sewer water rushing above the skyscrapers.
At the very top, a small turtle spins around on his back.
Wheeze. Wheeze. Wheeze. Gurgle. More wheezing. The older master stays upright, though in the process of gagging out all the mud that got in his maw. He is absolutely covered, top to bottom, in mud and disgustingness, with a few grass blades for color and texture in the instance there is a swamp monster out there who wants a little garnish for their snacks.
The master(?) crosses his arms shortly after, eyes scanning the reactions of the unworthy yet rightfully afraid. Even with the steady withdrawal of enemy forces, the incidents of Southtown are not over. The destruction of the sprinkler and its plumbing army is but a signal to all who stand against the might of Todoh (and also Daniel).
"YEH HAH HAH!! That's right!" He cackles above the calm after the storm. "There's a whole lotta 'em in line for a whoopin' from yours tru-- I mean us! Yes. Us. Ahem." Shaking his left hand out in order to try and get some of the muck off (it doesn't work), he reaches down with that same hand which nullifies whatever he may have accomplished with the gesture. "There is, indeed, one thing for you to, as you say... jack. Up."
With a sudden movement, waves are made as Ryuhaku yanks something out of the water with such speed that both of them are splashed anew with the remains of their most recently conquered foe. Wet, dirtied, dripping clothing, once again damp and now no longer anything remotely close to clean, are waved about before the detective like a live fish struggling to return to the water moments before its demise.
"MY LAUNDRY!!" The old master sneers as he throws them at the detective. "Get to work!!!"
Whoa, Master Todoh was getting winded. Daniel Jack raises an eyebrow at his Master showing a lack of vigor. That was almost grounds for a challenge. Thoughts of taking over the Todoh Dojo only briefly passed over his mind. They promptly died the moment the pair of pants were hurled at his own muck-covered torso. With a sickening slap, it catches his torso.
Gingerly, he pulled it off him.
Daniel Jack dwelled on the clothing for a moment. Cracking his neck, he rolls his shoulders, and delivers a single, rakish eyebrow at Todoh. "One fresh set coming up, Straight Man" And with that, the detective begins slogging across the yard, collecting up the clothing to cleanse on behalf of the great might of Todoh.
MATCH OF THE MILLENIUM - LONG LIVE THE KING
A TP PRESUMABLY DIRECTED BY
Some Unreliable Traitorous Decepticon
Ghost In The Shell Background Flavor
Cake Bearing AI
Daniel "Jack" Little
Roland Sylvester Brown
And His Wife, Who Is Very Lovely
NOT ROBERT GARCIA
Some Other Dudes
Somre More Dudes
Other People Who Only Appeared Once
NOT MARCO RODRIGUEZ EITHER
Evil Factional Leaders
Uncharacteristically Charitable Mercenaries
...with special guest: Gimpy the Turtle
Not You Either
You Didn't Even Do Squat
Okay You're Cool
But You Over There Are Not
You All Suck
Thank You For Reading!
Log created on 22:14:38 07/10/2009 by Todoh, and last modified on 21:23:03 07/12/2009.