Double K Mission pack that is a Mission of Two Missions [Mission]

This was a pain in the ass, a major pain in the asshole. He had SHIT to do today, but NO, as ANBU, he has to actually do some other things for the village, which are absolutely NOT beneficial in any way to Konoha. Figures, he never voted for that Hokage, Cicera, who is just turning everything into a Hell hole making him spend time away from pubs, brothels, and orphanages. It was a disaster this Konoha is going through, having to take care of problems like banditry which is in NO WAY detrimental to trade with other nations in the world. Given waylaying does not effect commerce in the slightest, Charlie knew this to be true because it is common sense. But alas, he has been struck aghast with such imposed tasks as he took to wearing his gear as a NORMAL JOUNIN. He wasn't doing things as an ANBU particularly now, but just a mild mannered Jounin named Charlie, and that's all there is to it.

ANBU missions are usually in teams, and are meant for far sinister and ulterior things, like butchering an orphanage or two, maybe kick a puppy, that sort of stuff. Whichever the case, Charlie made his way to the outskirts where first order of business was... kill the bandits, get the official, or was it kill the official, and get the bandits? Ah well, it's not like it should be anything major forgetting and glossing over details like those. AND SO! Charlie walked around reflective surface of polished nature at hand, it was sunset, and he just melted into the forests without a care in the world. Scratching his crotch with the free palms of his, as he gave a lazed bloodshot gaze about and around or two... oh yeah, this was bandit territory, a bunch of ruffians. Now to remember... get the bandits, or kill the bandits?

Yukimaru's long gait cleared over a gnarled root so much so that he hardly noticed it. There was a sign a few miles down the road warning travelers of the tripping hazards that were the roots poking out through dirt roads, but so far Yukimaru hadn't noticed a single one. He was dressed in a plain cotton suit, grey in color and unadorned by so much as a shiny button. His hat was a similar grey, blending in with short cropped hair that formed into a widow's peak on his forehead. He watched carefully, left and right, with dull green eyes. Somewhere in the forest were his two bodyguards. And somewhere else were bandits.

Yukimaru let loose a loud sigh, stopping his walk so that he could stretch. There were three loud pops originating from his back. He walked on, content. His lips never breaking from a straight line, he murmured things to himself. As he walked, constantly scanning the forest around him, he noticed a shape in the distance. Suddenly the shape was gone, then back again, then gone once more. Somehow Yukimaru couldn't quite keep track of it. He stopped and searched for his bodyguards.

When he discovered that they were completely gone from his sight, he let loose a low whistle, piercing the silence of the woods like a spear. It was a very obvious signal, in retrospect, but it was the one he'd been given so it was going to have to do.

[[Forgive the lack of an interesting post.]]

Through the slums of Konoha, Cocaine found himself garbed in some sort of Medical uniform as hurried along the alleys away from the self-imposed gang members of Konohagakure. Amused almost, his disguise in the medical uniform helped him to some degree, though he was unsure on how he got his hands on these particular sets of clothes. Fingering the blame on one of his previous episodes, he remembered suddenly about his appointed mission that he was mean to participate on this date. Cocaine didn't mind being late, as it was expected of him, but he was to take the appropriate measures to leave himself struggled with Big Leaf South Side. Though he made mental matters to take care of the situation before him some time later upon his return, Cocaine felt himself hop along the village with magical body flickers one out of view of the second-rate gangsters.

Upon leaving the village, he had doubts if he would be able to catch up to the ninja as sinister as the man himself, Cocaine skipping along with his ninja uniform in order to catch up with said individual. Details of the mission details were somewhat amiss to Cocaine, vaguely remembering some twisted descriptions of what he was enslaved to do. How sick of the perils of slavery to come back to the nation of Konoha, where the strong Black man had to labour day in and day out. Upon arriving next to the teammate he was quite familiar with, he had envisions that the Ninjapation Proclomation of the great Hokage Lincoln would be able to grant the freedom of someone such as Cocaine; alas he had to once more slave himself out to the public officers, all in order to feed some bandits an important official. Crazy bastards.

The moment was soon and now, and soon and now was the moment to be. There was nothing to question, as he had known his mission finally in a stroke of refreshing of the memory, coming across his merry path as he would realize a few things. Coming upon a particular scarlet hued child of horny proportions protruding from his skull in duo. Inspecting the baby with curiousity to find it just so adorable, tickling it's belly with a grin and smile. "Who is my little boy? Who is my little boy? Why it's not you! Why it's not you! Legally, I am not supposed to call you my son because... alimony is nothing more than a conspiracy and an allegation to make me lose my money because the MAN wants to make me poor. I am a part of the 99% and I deserve my rights!" He says to the baby intellectually with some tender and small words.

"FEED ME YOUR SOUL, FOOLISH MORTAL." The baby goo'd.

"Wait WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!" Asked Charlie in exasperation.

"Goo goo gaa gaa?"

"...FUCK YOU BITCH, YOU ARE A DEMONIC SPAWN OF ENMA. AWAY WITH YE TO THE DEPTHS OF YOMI." Felling the unchild of abominable origins unto his legs, the infernal creature sailed through the air as swiftly as a thousand whales worth of power.

Whistling through the air like a spear, the juvenile made missile made forth onward cranium first delved deigning not-politely unto that whose domain which neither penetrated nor emancipated by whichever proclamation made manifest. A debilitating thing that was, that Charlie was to cast adrift into his fold of not-kill.

Alas, he found himself addressed in presence by a fellow ebonic of obsidian descent. A rather chance sighting made possible by a random unorthodox turn around which consisted of him turning his head like an owl, and then his body. His eyes glowed red, probably has to do with the fact he was the epitome of goodness, as he would say, "I AM BECOME DEATH." He coughed and cleared his throats, shaking his head, pupils dilating back to regular bloodshot proportion as he coughed out smoke, swaying aside what unearthly voice tone his vocal cords made, "AHEM AHEM, I mean hello my good man! What brings you to assisting me in my endeavors m'gwana? Don't mind that voice... it was just erm... glaucoma. You know, not taking my medicinal herbs and all that. Common and completely normal stuff."

Thoroughly conceived through dreamlike motions, Cocaine appeared to awaken himself outside of his mental stupor. As if the individual ANBU member had been dozed off in some sort of limbo state, the symbiotic proves of his mind throughout his body was unable to cope with each other. In this misfounded stupor of inept calling, the Ninja brought himself pitted against the superficial perils of external forces which embodied his current capacity. Though it was not due for unforeseen forces which would claim certain destruction, his impoverished state of thinking was also one to blame. He recalled in his stupor the difficult states of presence he had to accompany himself with, the ability of make up for the lost dances of playwrights; all of which wouldn’t make exact sense for a witnessing third party. But when you’ve faced with no other choice, Cocaine found it hard to choose an ultimatum and walk away; simple factors brought the individual to pit himself against these unmatchable forces for simply a good laugh, for he knew in the end deep within himself that he would simply live. Knowing death wasn’t such a great option for the options that presented themselves as the options for the Ninja to take…for options. Anywhom, with his diligent mission still intact, while being completely accepting of this associates misdemeanor with those of the child fatale, Cocaine nodded in agreement with his actions as what would any other do when accompanied with the lovechildren of Mariposa and Satan himself?

With the brief exchange of common pleasantries once engaged by the two of them, the two Ninja stealthy but diligently took their arise within the forest, destination in mind and without attention lacking to any other places. Within their decrepit entrance of the destination in hand, the other associate gave clear orders on exactly what their participation of the mission would include, and the objectives would be, whatever those are. The Ninja made quick haste upon splitting up with the other Ninja, Cocaine’s mind lacking the understanding of what exactly he was supposed to do once he got to this point, though he worried not about the finite details; he would make the time to create things along the way. Encountered with the various meeting ground of the adversaries that he was soon to encounter, the major fanatics of shenanigans allowed the Ninja’s puppeteer to properly compensate for his lack of information, though all of that didn't matter in such a situation eh?

Within his slowing creeping creep, Cocaine’s hands brought themselves to his chest, mimicking the ancient legends of the Trannosaurus rex, or some other fanatical fantasy lizard of Creative Design, the cults’ most fabled idol of power adequately symbolized by its inadequate collection of triceps and biceps. With his arms arched in their clawed motion, Cocaine launched his surprise attack on the gang of assailants which rallied themselves in a certain particular area. Their states confused as to whom he was, Cocaine roared ferociously as he stomped around on their supplies other items which lied themselves on the floor. Within the many bouts of growls and ferocities, Cocaine continued to stop around, asserting his dominance toward the other group of ego centered thugs which motivated themselves by the destruction of anything that dared to oppose themselves, just as a T-Rex-Cocaine would soon imitate.

[[So so so so so sorry about the wait. And if I get something wrong, please let me know so I can fix it. I'm rushing here so I only skimmed your post. The quality will also be... Eh. You get the point]]

The world was so different these days, now that the farms had died and the villages turned upside down. Speaking of upside down, Roku rolled over onto his stomach. His head was getting funny from hanging off of the log he'd been laying on. He shook it and blinked a few times. The roaring stopped. He smiled up at the men sitting around a fire only twenty feet away from him. Reaching around his back, he grabbed a leather-bound book that he'd strapped to the small of his back. It slid from its yarn frog easily, rolling it as it rubbed its corners against the circle. When it was finally free the yarn curled in on itself like a wretch in a fit. He ignored it and brought the book to his face.

18x Grain supply
10x Spices
5x Bolts of cloth
-> 3x Bolts of cotton
-> 2x Bolts of Satin
2x Miscellaneous
400 Ryo

He went over the list over and over again, flipping back through the book to see the loot from the weeks before. When he'd memorized every number he flipped to the back of the book where a chart had been sketched out. Drawing a piece of charcoal from one of the three pouches hanging from his belt, he began to mark numbers down. Their profits were growing impressively; they'd never made this much money growing crops on the farm. The life of the bandit was good.

Suddenly there was a crack. A roaring followed that reminded Roku of no animal he'd ever heard besides maybe a toddler. Turning his head he saw the destruction laying itself bare behind him. A strange man stood, hunched over with his arms hugged to his chest like some creature he'd never seen. He let loose another roar and stomped on a bolt of satin, snapping the wooden board in half. The splinters tore at the cloth. 1 The man's feet had already smashed a box, sending tan flooding over the ground, and tore open a sack that mixed its guts with the tan, swirling red. 1. 1.

He realized in terror that the man was destroying their loot. An entire month of wages was gone already and more was flying by every second. Numbers swam through his head as he tried to keep up with the losses. He'd only learned simple math -- more than any of his comrades, mind you -- and he'd never learned to do it particularly quickly. What was division? He was going to need it, anyhow.

snap

His allies stood and took up their swords, axes, kunai, and pikes. They charged the man, their stances awkward and their faces only barely masking confusion and fear. They looked like they always did when their farmer's hands were forced to grip weapons with an awkward unfamiliarity obvious even to Roku. He still marveled at how they could frighten seasoned merchants, but it was working. Until now.

Verdant is the color of allure, the siren's calling drawing forth the captivation of Charlie as he beckoned forth an idea, an idea where it must be done in such regards with no idea on what's what. A realization dawned, it dawned for an astronomically cosmic and most chance and baser reasons that for what measure can he not delve into the abyss of depravity and decadence? Realization heeling and frolicking with mighty aim and accuracy piercing the anushole of the cranial cognitive functions into a singular purpose made manifest through veneer vanity. The words were in his mouth without consideration, in lieu to his die-hard better-than-thou holier-than-naught antics come about to be the manifestation of trueness at its whole. Simple mathematical equations algebric vis-a-vis created to be the amalgamation of IT. A languor no longer dawned, and vigor from what second-head lay often now circulating throughout the rest of his form, giving ample developments to these things called "thoughts." He finally found the courage to say what must be said with what was to be done, as he looked at his ebony partner of strangeness jujubees proportion from oonga boonga, and says verily in sincere regards, "LOLMARIPOSA." Words of wisdom expunged out of his big orifice thus dubbed the chatterbox boobtube that found itself lingering astray of what the owner's intent to be most naught but his intent to debauch the decadently stagnant. His eyes bulged out to find the bulgar-rapist trannysaurus rex... or however vis-a-vis one pronounces the lizard tyrant king's calling forth, gracing subtly along the lines of fine finesse and bumbling bluntness all in a perfect mix. His feet spurred about on their own, finding themselves left right and left ahead of one another in such a newtonian motion to which inclined itself from Point A to B, defined thus that which is the first alphabet was defined as the man of finer protection, as for the other him stalking along such a protectiveness, there was no question about this. His absolute perfection must be shared with all the world, because everyone deserves a chance to be more than what their stupid ass selves are. A moment of reprieve enkindled within the Chuckie's cranium mammaries, vivid moments lucidly brought such fondle-- fond memories back involving fondling moments, except such fondling had found itself upon a hand, and such a hand found itself reaching out and forth at that which not-kill but let-alive person to which best be protected, the chick of huge mammalian buxom proportions that he found himself after such deliberate walking right in front of after a trotting trod aligned far apart that of flora aplenty. A fine lass she was, one can tell why the Kage of the Hoes found an inkling to place it in her best interest to find a lass of such comeliness. He muttered a few sweet nothings and gestured follow, hands still unfulfilled of their wily motives transgressing forth unto borderline trespass that serves most kindly to his needs, great strength abound for such a squeeze made manifest in such kindling rise from hem unto the nothingness in willful would's, clearly such intent transpiring that which it is "when" when the how's are made so. And yet verily... do those rhyme. Embarking on an escapade that escapes the chance moment of waylaying knaves, for what vaudevillian has quite the rousing to mirth in his rabblerousing wordomancing made manifest ways. His perfidy knew no bounds, and already two far apart in a length of many Nodachi, perhaps 50 give or take? Momentary gazes giving chance to polished surface of quasi-omniscient optics made it crystalline transparency of what can and would transpire without further ado of a fail. Glistening apart figuratively from further debacle that he may come across astray in their whatever-endeavors to befall him thusly. And so the man would say to the woman, "Follow me, hosta-- I mean my fine escort of great boxum proportions."