[Solo/Missions] Once Again (It's All About Me)

[Santaru Rin]

I will be posting most of my future solo, self-modded missions here to avoid crapping the joint up.

Description: Rin has been preoccupied with logistical matters and her demonological research. To clear her mind and get a renewed sense of the lay of the land, she will patrol the village and see what sort of minor trouble she can shit-kick.
Combat: RP silliness.

"You are weak, and I am strong," the woman in the coffee shop told her conversational partner. "And I've done nothing but lead you on." Rin grimaced as scalding coffee spattered her hand. Patrols were always peppered with these strange, minor incidents. She licked the coffee from the webbing between her forefinger and thumb and scowled at the red blotches left behind. She shouldered the shop door open, letting in an unexpected blast of cold air that made the earlier speaker yelp. That accomplished, Rin smirked privately and strode out into the street.

Spring was coming. The snows still fell in Kumo, but now freezing rain was the main tormentor. She could sense, however faintly, an eager energy rising beneath the surface of the earth. Soon the sap in the trees around the village would quicken. She teased herself with the idea that she could already see the fuzzy, red beginnings of buds, though it was patently untrue.

She padded into the lower village, wearing worn grays and keeping her chin tucked slightly in to avoid drawing much attention. While other shinobi would certainly know her by appearance at this point, civilians in this section of town were less likely to be familiar with her. She preferred to keep it that way. Anonymity was valuable; even social climbers understood that.

What she quickly realized when walking through these streets was that the civilian police presence here was either invisible or simply not present. There were a couple of empty police booths, vandalized with grafitti. She saw no one standing to direct carriage traffic, nor anyone walking the beat as she was. Interesting. The official reports she had from the village's civilian leadership contradicted reality. So, someone was fibbing. But why lie? Under these conditions, she thought, Obviously Makoro and his ilk would have an easy time hiding. Perhaps there were one or two constables in the neighborhood, and she simply didn't see them--which was wildly insufficient for the village's security. If her ANBU and some Main Branch CID were the only ones here, then the community's needs couldn't possibly be met.

She was striding past the faded awning of the neighborhood usurer when she first detected it. That undercurrent of tension that signaled trouble tugged at her attention. She walked along with her fellow pedestrians, eyes sharp for trouble. She heard it before she saw it; the raised voice of some madman.

"Body counts mounting! That's what you get!" he cried out as peasants passed him. Their eyes were studiously averted, not willing to match gazes with him and be drawn in. She tucked herself into a bit of architecture, using the cover to avoid the frigid mist falling over the streets and to give herself space to observe him without engaging. Many ninja might noisily intervene or even use some chakra technique to shut the lunatic up, but that wasn't the Sennin's style.

"The gap between rich and poor grows! It swallows us all! They're coming to take your children! Your land--not that you have any, you cowards! And they'll get you all, they'll get you! They've already got control over your minds. It's in the water! It's in the air! Can't you see, you sheeple?" he beseeched them. "The Raikage is one of them! And so is the Hokage! The lizard men have arrived! They've learned! They put poison in the water and stole our faces! They're brainwashing you with public schools and health care!" No one said anything; they avoided him. Desperate for some form of validation, he stepped into the path of an old woman, causing her to bump into him.

"Listen to me!" he said, grabbing at her sleeve. She tried to pull away, but the grandmother's strength was not a match for the man's. He reached into the pocket of his shabby overcoat, pulling out something which glinted. He brandished the scissors in the air and the old woman broke free, whimpering slightly as she made haste to escape. The madman ignored her, waving the scissors at passers-by. "If you want to be blind, put out your eyes then! Have an excuse!"

Enough is enough, Rin decided. She strode over, breaking from cover to cross the street. She broke into the bubble of space around the madman and with a neat motion, kicked the scissors clear of his hand. He jumped away and she grabbed after the scissors. A subvocal command to her headset, concealed beneath her humble hood, dispatched an order to the Sileo for the civilian constabulary. It would be some time before they arrived, and by then, the madman would be gone. She sighed and pocketed the scissors, watching the fool's retreating back. Idiots.

 

[Santaru Rin]

Another village patrol! Does it really need more detail than that? (I will take something silly from D-Listed.)

The village elders had had little to say about the lack of civilian policing happening in the village's poorer residential outskirts. Just two days ago, a boy had been killed in broad daylight while walking out of a store. She suspected he was simply collateral damage in a territorial skirmish between civilian crime elements. Kizoku Shindou had been working on an assignment related to these factions, though his concern was primarily with the illicit sex trade. She suspected, but couldn't yet pinpoint, shinobi involvement... And frankly, with all of the other issues swirling around Kumogakure and Kaminari no Kuni, simple organized crime was not the largest concern her people faced. But I can't discount it... It's a symptom of a sick society.

At least the day of her patrol had been graced with good weather. The ceaseless snows of winter had, at last, ceased. Now the village was stuck with the occasional freezing rain and an ever greater proportion of normal rain. Such was spring in the mountains. Rin had plotted a different route this time and, huddled under her water-proofed, brown cloak, walked the streets with the shy and silent demeanour of Kumo's average denizen. Her hands were clutched around a clay canister of hot, barely potable sludge that was more for warming her body than for drinking. Eventually she would just pour it out onto the street with the rest of the waste.

When's payday? she asked herself. Bitches need to get paid. Glamor costs money.

She had just turned a sharp corner to ascend a stair to the next street when someone tugged at her sleeve. An envelope was discreetly slipped into her hand. Barely pausing, Rin passed off a small purse of coin. It was business, such as these things went. The urge to open the envelope was strong, but she had to push it down. Whatever that contact had wanted to pass along must have been urgent to eschew one of Rin's dead drop sites in favor of personal delivery. Now it would have to wait until she was in more private accommodations, lest the Sennin blow a friendly operative's cover. At the top of the stairs, Rin turned left and paused at a red postbox. Nothing had been left at the bench there. She sipped the sludge and immediately regretted it.

The accidental slaying had quieted things down. No manic street preachers today, either. She observed a boy selling rags at the opposite corner; a pair of dogs rested near him, casting a proprietary eye over the boy. Hounds had a special place in the village, not only among the Inuzuka, but also among the poor. A Kumo-bred dog was better than a heater and the most sound security most civilians could come by. Even the average shinobi would think twice before tangling with a dog in the village.

This was, of course, to say nothing of the village cats. Nobody screwed with the cats. A cat could kill a commoner, and your average nin or gen specialist would be dead in three rounds.

She finished gagging down some of the drink and motored along up the street, thinking of the envelope in her pocket and what it must contain. All of this cloak and dagger bullshit is so wearing...

By the grace of Amaterasu, the morning remained calm. She returned to the Torre Celeste after noon, discarding her rain cloak in favor of something warmer and drier. Upstairs, fortified with something actually drinkable--cheap sake, served steaming--she opened the envelope. The simple code used the start of each sentence and line to spell out a short message in a much longer, trivial letter.

Maple syrup, coal stolen. LC Coop fix.

What in the damned world...