6373/Ninjas: Wacky fun!

Ninjas: Wacky fun!
Date of Scene:	29 May 2021
Location:	Somewhere in Chelsea...
Synopsis:	Ninjas hit the ground like flies as a ninja and a goddess reap them down. Food is consumed. Drink also. Honour is spoken of. Pacts are exchanged.
Cast of Characters:	Sif, Chizue Nakamura

---

Sif has posed:
It was a good plan. Hit the art gallery at night. Steal all the paintings, despite only one of them being the target, so that the collector who paid for the hit can't be identified by his tastes. It was a great plan. One squad of ninjas. One out-dated security system. One old-fashioned building with a thousand means of ingress and egress.

Perfect.

Except they didn't take Asgard into account. Or, to be more accurate, one specific Asgardian, bored and looking for things to do.

Chizue, too, naturally, knew of the plan and was on the way to interfere with it.

"Now that's the spirit!"

The woman in red and white leathers is cheering on the three pyjama-clad people before her, their swords out and she with two axes, one twirling in each hand so fast she looked like a small airplane. Her words of encouragement were for the middle one who was staggering back, sword visibly bent and chipped from impact with those spinning axes.

"Right, you need to push the attack."

Three ninjas in front of her. Five on the floor. This particular clan, as Chizue would know, operates in units of twelve. That's four unaccounted for.

Three. Three unaccounted for. One of them took a shoot with an explosive crossbow bolt, only to have the target sidestep and lightly tap the passing bolt to direct it into the one with the bent and chipped sword.

Now there were two in front of her, one archer location known, and three as yet unaccounted for.

Chizue Nakamura has posed:
    Owari has perhaps surprisingly relaxed once she realized who was doing the fighting down below her, and was entirely content to let the Asgardian blow off some steam on the try hards. Not that she's idle mind you, she knows this clan's playbook all too well by this point, the main force would keep Sif's attention whilst the rest rotated around for the flank. It's not even a bad strategy, but Owari's seen it a hundred times by now.

    It's only when the first of the flank gets into position that she finally enters the fray, dropping from the ceiling with uncanny silence. One more shadow amongst many in a dimly lit art gallery. <<Friendly behind.>>Comes her trademark electronic growl, just to save Sif the trouble of making sure of course. She is a polite ninja if nothing else.

    Her form is low and compact, hard to even fully read under that near-invisibility cloak of hers. Betraying not so much as a hint of movement as the first of the flankers draws his sword and starts his sprint, soon bouyed by the rushing comrades behind. Owari offers no defensive stance, no outward acknowledgment that there's even a threat.

    Until the poor sod steps within range, and she explodes in a single practiced motion. Rising just barely off her knees to take a low half step forward, as she draws that blade and surges it to life in a flash of neon purple energy. There is no clanking of blades here, as that sci-fi Katana finds the poor soul just above the hips and cleaves him neatly in two. Halves spilling to the ground amidst the stench of burned flesh and the smoldering of that black outfit. <<Outlaws, the end is here. None of you are getting out of this alive.>>

Sif has posed:
"Ah, the glass swordswoman! Well met!" Sif look around at the growl, breaking out into a grin. The two with her mistakenly think that moment of distraction gives them an opening.

Now they have their opening.

Indeed they have several. Each.

As the incoming swords are casually swatted aside and the whirling axes hit shoulder, chest, hip, leg, gut, and head seemingly at random, so quickly do they strike from random directions. Without Sif even bothering to look.

"They have an archer over there," she warns, pointing to where the bolt had come from. "And I see you've got two of your own. Shall I deal with the archer or assist you?"

Chizue Nakamura has posed:
    <<The lady need not concern herself with my safety, I can take all four of them if that would be more convient.>>Not that she waits around for an answer, lifting her gaze towards the two remaining swordsmen. Her garb flaring to light with a sketchy, lazy cell shaded sort've appearance that makes her look for all the world like she lost a dimension somewhere along the way. That derpy tanuki mask looking decidedly more crazed than anything, with the flaring red of Xs over both empty eye sockets.

    Then well she's off, hurtling forward in a zig zagging course that leads her partially up one wall over the desperate swing of the closest of her foes. The poor sod doesn't even get a proper swordfight, she just throws a sticky wad between his shoulders and proceeds fourth without missing a beat. Costume glowing brighter and more animated with every step, until it vanishes into the shadows as the illumination goes out.

    He offers a desperate series of sword swings as he fumbles for smoke bombs, which isn't a bad play considering the situation. Still she finds him before he's able to get them off, that brilliant purple flaring to life as it catches his left hip and slices him clean through to his right shoulder. That leaves the bypassed Ninja, who after spending a few moments clawing frantically for whatever he's been stuck with instead simply turns and charges.

    It's not even a terribly loud explosion really, just enough explosive to drive his spine out of his chest cavity and send him tumbling to the floor like a sack of potatoes. When Owari's decidedly cartoonish costume flickers back to life it's spotted with no small amount of bright red, not that Owari seems terribly bothered. Giving that blade a flourishing shake before all but -throwing- the thing back into it's sheath. That mask swiveling to where the Archer was.

Sif has posed:
'Was' being the key word. 'Is' applies if and only if a corpse counts, as while Chizue's actions against the remaining sword types finishes, an axe flies forth back along the path of the bolt that Sif had redirected, adjusted for some egress movement, and penetrated the chest of the archer. Through its high tech chain. Front and back. Burying itself into the wall behind with only the haft showing, protruding grotesquely from the dead body.

"By my hearing that is the last," Sif says. "And an enjoyable workout it was. Most of those of Midgard can't stand up long enough for me to warm up. These almost did."

Not bothering to clean her face or her suit, Sif strides across to where her axe is and pulls it out. Through the corpse, adding insult to death-dealing injury. "What brings you to my neighourhood?" she asks conversationally as she starts cleaning the blade out of habit.

Chizue Nakamura has posed:
    "These punks came up on my radar earlier tonight, they weren't going to survive the night either way."And a vague motion towards the archer "You got to most of them first, a fine bit of fighting from what I could catch."That mask's eyebrows move at least to try and convey some of the emotion from behind it but, well it's still a static mask so thankfully no mouth movement. "This was a more skilled crew than most this clan has put out lately."

    Slowly dropping into a comfortable slouch that just might suggest time she spends in front of a computer during the sunny hours. "Most of these fools are not so brave, these fellows at least stood their ground and found their end like Ninja. None cried out, none begged, none ran for their lives."She gives a little nod in appreciation at that, casually slipping a shoe under a discarded Ninja-to and flipping it into her hand as she strolls back towards Sif. "American branch though, only the Americans actually carry these Ninja-to."

Sif has posed:
"I didn't use my fullest training," Sif says as she looks around. "They didn't warrant it. It is a little bit insulting to have to deal with such as these. I almost miss the pitched battles against the Svartalfen centuries ago before we quelled them."

Sif sighs and puts away her axes, then turns to Chizue and raises an eyebrow. "What is the next step? When last I killed several dozen people it was recommended I leave and avoid questioning from the authorities. Is this advice standing for here as well?"

Chizue Nakamura has posed:
    "Oh sure, but this is an art gallery. Knocking over an art gallery in New York usually involves some sort of Meta-human nut-job, and the cops will be rather casual about responding."She tosses the sword casually towards Sif for her to inspect if she cares to. Her gaze immediately swinging away as she studies, the immaterial digital-scape she'd shown Sif once before. "Three units, but we don't need to rush they're sand bagging by my read."

    And a casual little shrug as she rests a left forarm against her brace of swords "Shall I navigate us someplace quiet, where the authorities will not discover us? They're well meaning, but It is of course dishonorable to slay those attempting to protect the city. The Tokyo Justice Society is frowning at this mission of mine enough as it is, so It would cause me some difficulty."But again well Sif is the one with the greater social standing of course. So that mask simply swivels over towards Sif and waits, content to play things whichever way she fancies.

Sif has posed:
Sif catches the thrown blade and inspects it, making a face before twisting it into a spiral and then crumpling it into a ball.

"Your blade is more impressive," she decides. "These aren't fit for kitchen work in Valhalla." The balled up sword is thrown away in casual disregard. "Very well, then let us repair to another locale to talk." She pauses. "Strong drink would not be out of order either," she decides. "If you know of such a place nearby, I would not say no."

She looks over the place once more, counting the dead bodies. "I think it may be kind to leave some coin behind to pay for the cleaning that will be required. Is that advisable?"

Chizue Nakamura has posed:
"Nay, they have insurance."Comes the automatic response, before well she's off towards the window. A moment spent fiddling with the alarm, another moment with the lock and she simply pops the window open. "Afraid I've nothing but tea on my person, and I doubt you mean strong green tea?"She slips through the gap without making a noise, delicately hanging on the window ledge for a moment before she's off. A leap across to a flag pole, before she uses it to swing across another gap to land softly on a fire escape.

    "I know a place with hot food at least, theres a good chinese place run by an old hero in China town. He's always happy to cater to costumed hero types, and he's usually pretty free with his snakewine."Owari's garish colors wink out, instead blending in with the background oncemore as she races up the fire escape to make the roof adjacent without so much as a puff of effort. "Bit of a run, but his Orange Chicken is delightful."

Sif has posed:
"You will have to lead." Sif slips to the window and after pulling it inside, setting it on the floor and stepping on the frame chooses to just directly leap to the adjascent roof, landing with superhuman agility. "Orange chicken sounds interesting. Most of the chicken I have had is white or brown in flesh. How do they make it orange?"

She continues following Chizue for as long as Chizue keeps herself occasionally visible, keeping up without difficulty but being rather more direct about her motions: choosing long-distance leaps over fancy acrobatics for the most part.

Her increased mass adds more payouts from insurance companies as she does so, the impact of someone three times average human weight having its price.

"What kind of hero?" she adds. Then, as an odd follow-up: "How close to death is he?"

Chizue Nakamura has posed:
    "He's fated not to die until his enemy does, but his nemesis is frozen in stone so.."Chizue offers a little hand wavey motion. "Don't bring it up, he still feels cheated."And well it's a bit of a jog for sure but Owari makes short work of the distance, her cloak forming a pale white spot on the back of her hood to make following her all the more convient. And all the way over to China town, down a greasy alleyway, through a heavy freight door, down through a heavy iron latch and into the concrete below.

    The place is decorated with yellowed newspaper clippings of Japanese heroes, broken swords and fractured remnants of armor. The low ceiling decorated with a mixture of white christmas lights and prayer flags. The seating is a generally simplistic affair, but Owari leads up to the weathered bar. "Grandfather, you have customers!"Down goes that hood, before she plops onto a barstool, setting her swords are the bartop quite casually. Hands busy with undoing her vambraces and loosening her gloves.

    From the back he appears as silent as can be, his simple brown and black Kimono still neat and tidy as the day is was woven. It might well be original considering just how, -ancient- and shriveled he looks, but he adjusts his wireframe glasses never the less and slowly ambles behind the bar. "Clan Haga coming in here at all hours, never calling and never writing."He forces himself somewhat more erect finally. "And you my dear, what can Grandpa get you tonight. Afraid I don't have much Asgardian ale, but I do have some snake wine that might pass muster as a substitute for tonight?"

Sif has posed:
"I have never had wine made from snakes," Sif says truthfully. "I'm not even sure what you would do to ferment snake blood. Do you mix it with sugar and yeast or is it something natural within the snakes themselves that causes fermentation?" She shrugs. "Either way I can always try it."

She too takes a seat, the telltale groan of the chair under her weight hinting at how, precisely, it is she is effectively bullet- or blade-proof in Midgard with Midgard weapons. Following suit, the axes get unhitched and deposited across the bar, though the dagger remains at her left hip, treated more as a tool than as a weapon. "Also, I could well do with comestibles. What do you have that's closest to a roast boar?"

Chizue Nakamura has posed:
    "The whole snake."He responds plainly, before turning around behind the bar to source a large clear bottle and a mug. The fluid is an angry red and even in the dim light, yeah there is an entire cobra coiled up in the thing. Without hesitation he uncorks the brew, and immediately the whole joint fills with the smell of peppers and a heady mixture of secret herbs and whatever grain alcohol the stuff started as. He pours a mug's worth, before stepping away. "Hot braised pork it is, It'll be ready in a minute. You ladies entertain yourselves, the actress knows how to serve herself."And with that out the way he came without another word said, working his way up the stairs in the back to the kitchens.

    Owari pops the seal on that helmet finally, before the thing hinges open and after a moment the whole lid comes off followed by the seperate armored section which protects her neck. It's enough to reveal the very edges of that colorful inkwork across her back, but that's likely not what's most interesting here. Stripped of her helmet, well especially with the smears of eyeblack across her cheeks she just looks -tired-. "Forgive him if he's a touch short, he was the most powerful wizard in Japan for a few hundred years. Whole family is actually a little, socially challenged. His great-great-great Grand-daughter was my partner back in Tokyo actually. Strong magic in their blood."

Sif has posed:
"Actress?" Sif asks Chizue curiously. "Are you in theatre? I thought you watched this ... scrying space?"

The mug of snake wine gets a tentative sniff, closed eyes as she works out what it might taste like, a tentative sip, another closed-eye analysis, then emptied in a single gulp, treating it like she'd treat ale.

"It has an intriguing flavour. I hope the pork is as interestingly prepared. It certainly smells delicious if that is what I'm smelling from the kitchen."

Damn that's a sensitive nose.

Her eyes regard Chizue again. "Are you weary? Sleep is important for a warrior. It is not something which should be shirked."

Chizue Nakamura has posed:
    "The Haga were once roving actors and puppeteers, It's why we tend to be the more theatrical Shadows you meet."Theres a slow roll of the shoulders, before she reaches over the bar to blindly produce a bottle of green tea from somewhere. "There are four branches of the Haga, the two operational sides? There are warriors, who never fight without a theatrical mask and costume. The others aren't fighters really, they're anonymous. They become somebody for awhile, just show up someplace and have perfected the art of looking like they belong there. They just walk into sensitive areas, do their work and then vanish to become somebody else. Nobody even knows anything happened."

    She gives a shrug, pausing as "Grandpa" returns with a plate of orange chicken for the Ninja, and well a rather larger plate of hot braised pork on a bed of white rice for Sif. Meal served, he simply ambles back the way he came without a single word spoken.

    Chizue isn't long in waiting, plucking a pair of chopsticks from a nearby cup and going to town. "It's not a problem, I wasn't designed to need as much sleep as a human. Four hours and I'm good to go, just a little worn out."And a pause to pop another piece of chicken into her mouth, munching away happily for a moment. "Shadows do not get days off, always more work to be done."

Sif has posed:
"Warrior skalds. You would get along well with skalds in Asgard!" Sif says with approval as she stares at her plate for the moment. Shrugging she pulls out the dagger and starts skewering meat chunks, eating them from the wickedly sharp blade with expertise born of long practice. She'll deal with the rice afterward.

"It does not sound healthy to me, however, to never recreate. The warriors of Asgard are the mightiest of the nine realms, but we still ensure there is time for play. For enjoyment. Drinking. Eating. Games of chance. Games of skill. Swiving. All to keep the morale of the warriors up so they're ready to fight. Why does your clan treat you so badly?"

Chizue Nakamura has posed:
    "I am not a warrior, My homeland has those of course."She corrects softly, eating quietly for a moment before finally hitting her tea. "I have had love in my life, but this life is incompatable with such things. Nevermind the terrible price which was paid to create me, it was anything but conventional science to make me. Such things are not cheap, and there were less fortunate ones crafted before me."Theres a roll of her head too and fro. "I do not believe my task is possible, I believe I am intended to die dutifully during the course of this mission. Idleness simply prolongs the affair."

    and a shrug of the shoulders "I was not made for leisurely pursuits, I was made for battle. So anything else is against my nature on some level I suppose."And another little shrug as she glances after Sif. "I have a great gift in all of this. I know exactly my purpose in life, and I am free to attend to it as I see fit. Few are given such wealth."

Sif has posed:
"I fail to see any honour in the creation of something which cannot fulfill its task," Sif opines after a few moments' consideration. "If the price is high the product should be venerated, not despised and dispatched on that which cannot be done. It's even more ludicrous to expend extensive resources only to have something killed in ignominious failure."

Her eyes look into Chizue's exposed face with frankness and concern. "Why do you feel honour-bound to perform an honour-less task? I do not understand."

Chizue Nakamura has posed:
    "Politics, mostly politics."She lets that one float out there for a moment as she picks after her chicken. "They killed the head of Clan Haga and got away with it, fled the country to escape justice. For two hundred years everyone is content to just forget about it because they're far away. Two hundred years goes by and the world shrinks, now these outlaws are harming our interests once again. They use sacred teachings to bend minds, and to murder and to steal. The other two big clans are stuck in the 1800s, their world ends at the shore."

    "There were supposed to be thirty of us, but the procedure doesn't work correctly. It's a dead end, and they don't want the other clans to realize that there's something Haga technology can't do. So they sent me, and told everyone that I should be more than enough. If I die nobody can fault a shadow for death in duty, it happens sometimes to the best."And a pause as she plucks another chunk of chicken free, shaking an orange rind delicately off to the side. "The order carried the imperial seal, no Shadow has been given such an order in generations. I was given sacred teachings none have received in ages, I am equipped with the most sophisticated war kit any single warrior has ever carried. Who in the world am I, to refuse all that because it's inconvient?"

    And finally a bite, and some proper chewing before she finally admits. "I was not crafted to refuse such an auspicious order, I was made to kill."

Sif has posed:
"You are a person with a mind. You are a living being with the spark of life. I, who have sworn eternal service to the Allfather Himself would raise my sword against Him in a heartbeat if He gave command that were contrary to His Realms and His People."

Sif manages to capitalize words in speech quite successfully.

She spears two more pieces of pork and slips them off the knife with her lips, chewing and regarding Chizue.

"No, I do not understand you. You defend the actions of people already stiff with death. You walk to your own death in service of the living dead. I see no honour in this, only waste. This is not as when I stood alone against ten thousand swartalfen to hold them off while the march patrols rallied and advanced. I fully expected to die, yes, and it's the kind of sacrifice the skalds would sing of for ages to come." She snorts. "They've sung of it for centuries even without my death. But that sacrifice is not in vain. That kind of sacrifice of oneself for a greater, vibrant whole is the very essence of honour and I would never raise my voice in its denunciation."

Her dagger spears her food with precision three times, not even touching the plate beneath it, pulling up three succulent pieces of pork.

"By your description, however, your clans sound as dead as these three pieces of meat. Sacrificing yourself for them sounds as sensible to me as my sacrificing a finger to rescue these three pieces of dead pig." She punctuates the point by slipping said dead pig pieces into her mouth and chewing them noisily, washing them down with the odd wine. "I do not understand."

Chizue Nakamura has posed:
    "Life is complicated down here in the gutter, Lady Sif."She offers quite casually. "I have evil men placed directly in front of me, and regardless of what lead me here I cannot simply turn away. There are none others whom I could burden with what has been decreed as -my- task, the other clans have no desire to attend to matters over here in America. None in America have the heart for this."And a little wave of those chopsticks as she finally lets her shoulders down.

    "They capture wicked men and carry them off to prisons, so they can escape over and over again. There are innocents beyond counting that are dead, because the American brand of Hero refuses to see things to the bitter end. They want the fight, the applause but can't quite bring themselves to kill."Finally, setting those chopsticks down delicately upon the edge of her plate. "I kill monsters in human shape, and they act like I've done something wrong. They can't be expected to handle these outlaws, they fail to handle their own already. Give me one week and I'd fill graveyards with the wickedness that sickens this place, and they'd brand me a psychopath for it."

Sif has posed:
Sif laughs and pats her axes on the bar. "Do I look like I fear causing or facing death to you? Death is not something to seek out; down that path lies Hela and her foul minions. But slaying the evil is not something that I shy away from."

Which, of course, is obvious given her performance in the art gallery.

"I do find several of the Midgarders squeamish in that regard, thinking that somehow slicing the limbs off of those who assault with intent to kill is excessive. I do not agree with them in the slightest. In their presence, however, I will hold back if it is expedient."

Chizue Nakamura has posed:
    "You do not put rabid animals in prison, you put them down."She sneers, finally taking her chopsticks up again. "Which is why I appreciate your company, Lady Sif. Still I can hardly expect you to make this concern your entire mission, and there are none others to do the work."And well Orange chicken is growing cold, so she attends to it oncemore.

    "It's not as if I don't get to fight under my own name on occasion, but there just isn't the time for such endeavors. People in this country also don't seem to quite understand the pageantry that goes into it anyway, people are just upset that I'm not gentle with criminals. Well that and they don't like the costume, too sexualized apparently."

Sif has posed:
Again Sif laughs in open merriment. "There is nothing wrong with taking pride in your appearance!" she asserts. "You should see my friend Brynhildr, Valkyrie of the Valkyrior. She shows more flesh than many courtesans, yet fights with deadly effect as leader of our greatest women warriors!" She snorts. "I would need to be numbered among the audience if someone tried to tell her she was inappropriately atired for her vocation as Chooser of the Slain. Were she in a merry mood she'd use the flat of her blade to teach the lesson."

Pause.

"She is rarely in a merry mood these days."

The final pieces of pork are sacrificed to Sif's appetite.

"Summon me if you need more force at arms in slaying the wicked, my friend," she says. "I could stand against a myriad of plain Midgarders without difficulty; no skald would sing my song because it would be too ordinary. And should greater force at arms be needed, I can summon a warband or, at need, a squadron of Valkyrior. There are few forces on Midgard that would last longer than a few minutes against this."

Chizue Nakamura has posed:
    "There is one I will require your aid against, one fortified with magic. A man back from the dead. He might be up to your attentions, and is surely deserving."She leans back from the bar, and with a pair of buckles popped the front of her chest rig flips down to reveal the goodies within. A flexible keyboard of course, a selection of flat grenades, cables and a flexible screen which she slips free to slide down the bar. A moment of fiddling, and the screen resolves with a capture from her helmet cam.

    A man clad in a mixture of black, red and visible plate armor, armed with a set of spikes protruding from armored vambraces. "This is the head of the foot clan, alive after several hundred years as a dead man. He's allegedly the lover of some manner of evil witch, though I've yet to lay eyes on her. He's dramatically faster than any mortal human, and skilled as befitting the leader of a warrior clan. He is beyond what my mortal blades can destroy, would you like to see the fight real time?"

Sif has posed:
"Magicks require a magus or special weapons. I have the Asgardian Arsenal at my disposal, but I would need to know more specifically what the magus is." She ponders a while. "If I could find Brynhildr again, she has a weapon that if it draws the blood of a mage it drains the mage of all magic. But she is hard to find. Failing such a weapon, I would have to consult with the younger Prince. If it is magicks, he knows of it and has probably dabbled in it."

Chizue Nakamura has posed:
    "The Haga walked away from Magic ages ago, and I'm manufactured. Unnatural body, no connection to the traditional magic of my homeland either."Theres a little shrug there, before reaching across to tap the display. It's up close for obvious reasons, but the hilt of her sword burried through the man's collar bone is plain to see. "He stabbed me eighteen times, and nearly killed me -after- this. I have a more powerful sword now, but it seems most unwise to rely on such things when magic is at play."And a little shrug for good measure.

    "If you see him, destroy him with the greatest prejudice you're capable of. His destruction would lay open the road to his lover, and their destruction means an end to this entire clan. Please remember his armor, he does not remove it as far as we know."Offering a little nod of confirmation, before producing a trio of neat gold coins from...somewhere and setting it on the counter top.

Sif has posed:
"I will keep an eye out for him. Indeed I will set my brother to the task."

In her mind there's a snort of derision that she ignores.

"There are few who can evade the eye of Heimdall," she says proudly. "Not in any of the Nine Realms. If he seeks, he will find. Even the younger Prince cannot hide from him forever, though he can make the search an enormous waste of his valuable time."

That mental presences snorts again. ~Flattery won't work, sister.~ ~Will whining?~ ~No. This is a mortal affair, not an affair of the Realm.~ ~We'll see!~

"If I see him, I will try to destroy him. If this fails, I will unleash the Armory upon him, and failing that a full warband." Sif smiles slyly. "That includes sorcerers."

Rising to her feet, she salutes with the axes she picks up from the bar. "Well met again, my compatriot at arms, and recall that I can be summoned if you have need of greater force of arms. But I must now return to my home and tend to the younger Prince."

Chizue Nakamura has posed:
    "And remember you're one of few who I would call a friend, Lady Sif."On goes that helmet with a trademark -hiss- of pressure. "There are precious few in all of history who can call upon a Haga, for -free-."Theres a smirk behind that mask, for sure. "Oh and, keep Grandpa a secret yes? He's made a decision to retire from, complications."

    Fans whir as her network gets going, before she begins to fade slowly into the background. <<If I find him I'll ring you, pity to rob you of a decent fight yes?>>Stepping back as the lights in the "bar" wink out for just long enough for her to...well poof, as Ninjas are obviously want to do.