2001, Largefield City
The man sitting in the cafe had a tense posture to him. He sat rigid in his chair, spine pressed so firmly to the back of it you'd think he was trying to become a part of the furniture itself. Truth be told, sometimes he did wish he could vanish entirely.
But not today. Today he was feeling optimistic, or maybe stubborn was more the word for it.
Ever since leaving his past life behind, he had been working on all that...self improvement bullshit. The kind of stuff you saw on TV, or in blogs or lifestyle magazines. Drink this shit looking smoothie, take twenty different kinds of vitamins, do some dodgy yoga positions in the company of those 'wellness' folks who probably believed in chakra and all that...
...It was easy to become jaded. He wasn't used to any of this. His life before was so different by comparison, he may as well have been a completely new person. Which was good in some ways...but such a drastic change was kind of like whiplash. Hell, he could practically feel the ache in his neck.
Plus, there was something else that nagged at him pretty constantly. To cope with the stress of all this change, he smoked copiously. He knew that it was bad for him, but only recently had he actually tried to change that, as part of this whole 'new self' deal.
The problem was... addiction. It was a rotten beast and he could feel it coiling around him at almost all times. Stroking through his pallid blonde locks and seeping into his ears, clouding those equally pale eyes and urging him to just give in...
But he was trying his best not to. He took another strained sip of coffee and twiddled the pen in his right hand. He held it like he was about to take a drag, and at times he really would lift it to his pink lips and suck a little on the end, before he remembered he wasn't going to get any smoke from it.
Idiot...
Though he chastised himself for his weaknesses, he was coming far. His work to abandon who he used to be was actually panning out fairly well, all things considered. And who knew, maybe he would adjust to this new lifestyle sooner than he thought? Time would tell...
"Hey...um...Alexander, right?" Alexander Oruzhiye, yes.
He looked up in response to such a gentle voice. A girl was standing there by the edge of the cafe table. His date looked just as innocent in person. Pictures sent over an online chatroom could only do so much, he was grateful to see she was just as pretty as he had hoped. A little mousey, yes, and her brunette hair hung dishevelled, but her freckled face just glimmered.
"Hey, how are you?" he smiled and stood, embracing her in a hug and noticing her flushed face when he pulled away. "I...I'm good. I'm Natasha by the way-"
She held out her hand and he shook that too, smirking. The shakes were subsiding a little. "Yeah, I know."
Ryan Pryor rubbed his forehead and strained a little, staring at the computer screen in his spacey office. His hand
trailed down his face and rubbed at the light brown stubble he'd neglected to shave off this morning, before flopping down by his side. He leaned back in his desk chair and stared up at the damaged ceiling light, that always flickered obnoxiously above his spot. Sure, he was tall enough to get on the table and fix it himself, but was he about to do that?
No. He had enough to deal with at the moment. Crime upon crime, he never got a break. Largefield City was turning into more and more of a cesspool with every passing day. He'd solve one case and immediately be saddled with another. It was relentless, and while it was good to stay busy (even if just to pass the time), he hated that he couldn't even catch enough of a break to go to the water cooler.
At least he was never in too much danger, given that most of his work was done from the other side of a computer screen. He specialized in hacking, and that was likely why the FBI had hired him. Of course, having some past experience in crime gave him an edge, a perspective that they could no doubt utilize to their advantage, and they surely did.
It was a cushy job, but for how sleek their office space was, it was a shame they didn't seem to have the budget for a new light fixture.
Tracking organized crime and suspected terrorists, that was his speciality, and he was a diligent guy. At only 25, the German-American had already solidified himself as invaluable to these kinds of establishments. By all means, as long as he kept doing his job correctly, he was set for life.
Looking into one of the other dormant monitors that was situated near him, he caught sight of his tired reflection. He had a youthful face even with the scruff, and a tough build that almost made him look like he went to the gym on the regular (he didn't). A pretty handsome guy, but he let the stress get to him sometimes, hence his current scruffiness. Then again, there was something to be said about being a little rough around the edges.
Maybe he could take a break sometime soon. Maybe it was worth doing something like that. He did have some holidays that he could take, and he had yet to decide when he would actually schedule those in. They were precious though, worth preserving. He didn't know if he wanted to spend them just because he was disgruntled at the moment.
Decisions decisions. Perhaps all he wanted was some real excitement. A case he could really sink his teeth into...
Largefield City. It was a few shades different from Tokyo, wasn't it?
Vincent Gijutsu took his first step off the subway and found himself among a different kind of people. It was refreshing. He felt like he had been waiting a long while for this. Now that he was actually here, he supposed he'd just have to wait and see what he made of this whole place.
He could say at least one positive thing. The public transportation wasn't as packed as back home. Granted though, this station was a little grimy. His first glimpse of an individual that wasn't just another face in the crowd here, was a guy not so subtly shooting up near the restroom entrances. Talk about a bad first impression. A fitting one though, and for someone like him, strangely promising.
People who saw him stepping off the sub probably only assumed he was another businessman. He was smartly dressed just like that, and his long sleeves covered the tattoos hidden beneath. The snakes that wound around each of his arms weren't seen by the populace, not that they would be such a big deal here.
They may have given him away too easily though. He'd have to play these early days cautiously, until he'd succeeded in establishing the Yakuza branch right in the soul of this city.
Being a low-ranking member, he didn't want to risk screwing up this opportunity to prove himself to the syndicate. He was determined to make it work, and not just in the short term either. He'd make sure the roots ran deep by the time he was done with this place...
The city boasted seven million. Among those seven million, meetings were made every day. Old faces and new alike.
The three that would come to meet would no doubt be making their own kind of history in this place. For better, or for worse...