little bad thing verseXmorrowindfan

[Verse]

Shuyja Kameki was just another lowlife living the highlife in the Yareli Night. He had a small operation under the Yakuza banner, and in turn worked a turf - generous in size - for the Yakeda family. Sometimes it did feel like he was his own boss, since all he had to do was move product fast enough, and keep his territory clean from encroaching families. The Triad conglomerate Xuy stayed away from Yakuza lately, because of the war that had raged the street against criminals and the national army itself. In the end, the bad element had won, lead buy the largest crime entity in Yareli, a family called Kageyama, lead by Yuji Honu, but mostly shepherded by his right hand man, Keijin Lenaka. While not the sole proprietors of elicit wares and favors in the night, the Yakuza were the most prominent because of this, if they hadn't been before.

So all Shuyja had to do was stay in line, which was a pretty good place for him, and make sure his underlings listened when he spoke. In Yareli, affectionately known was New City, your reputation was everything. And in the underworld, the worse it got, the better your pull. Shuyja had been put in charge after a very short stint as a legman exactly because he was ruthless. His youth kept him somewhat healthy despite the dreadful life he lead. Shadows under his eyes complimented the menacing bones in his face. Taller than most that had to listen to him, even if he wasn't the oldest. He got his suits made at a tailor who paid less protection money. Today it was just black with a green, sheer shirt underneath to show off his tattoos. He was Yakuza, he wasn't expected to play by any sartorial rules, other than to look a little serious when his bosses came around.

It was one of these matters now, almost. A reputation thing. Not just his own, but about someone else, someone new. This motherfucker had been slacking on bringing in some deals. They had to hire a lot of shit people to move product, and some of them - you fucking guessed it - tried to run with the wares of even use it all up themselves. There was a set way to deal with them, a latter that started with intimidation and ended in the river that split New City. Or worse. You'd become an example by one of the hired guys that did big bloody scenes. The guy Shuyja had to deal with today was nothing special. He was just honestly a real fuckup by the looks of it. He'd been doing leg man shit and stumbled, and then even failed to hit deadlines for supplies. On more than one occasion he'd been approached about it, and he still had the wares on it - so he didn't use, steal or sell. He just couldn't do what he was told fast enough.

So Shuyja had to think he was just daft. No ill will. No real lack of loyalty. But being really unskilled could be a real problem. It might have been easier if he'd been skimming off the top. Then Shuyja would just donate a bullet to his forehead and rid himself of the headache. Ah, it was time to educate this little shit, he supposed, and then get ready for the rest of the night. He was going to partake in some recreation, which always meant beating his liver up while being balls deep in something pretty. Perks of the job. Yeah, that's what he was going to reward himself with when he was done with this hazing. Who knew, if the guy talked back, maybe there'd be use for a bullet after all? Shuyja had the small colt on the table in front of him. His warehouse office was stocked with a couple of crates of weapons, to make a stand if someone wanted to walk into this officially abandoned factory on the outskirts of Yareli proper, because they wanted to expand. Green and white lights in here, and two large men lounging on couches that didn't match anything. On what used to be the factory floor there'd be a few deals going on, and some storage for the bigger moves that he didn't have much to do with.

He reclined and pulled up a cigarillo and lit it, sucked and puffed until he thought it was pleasantly glowing from the other end. He sighed and crossed lacquered shoes on the table beside the gun. "Alright, fuck then, bring the shit in so we can get this over with." he said and waved the burning roll at one of the men on one of the couches. Danny. He was heavy but he moved quick. He was a good soldier when you needed him. They ordered his steroids special off the Ruskies. Danny sure as shit could handle bringing the fuckup here, since they'd told him to show up around now, and wait on the factory floor.

 

[Morrowindfan]

Akira knew that he had fucked up. Multiple times in fact. He just couldn't help it, he wasn't cut out for this job. He found himself questioning his life choices as he leaned against the wall in the factory floor and waited his eyes anxiously darting around. He was told that his boss, Shuyja Kameki personally wanted to see him. Shuyja fucking Kameki. He knew he was done for. In the short time that he had worked in yakuza he had other coworkers called in like this. After such events he hasn't seen nor heard of these people. light wind from a crack in the wall rustled his hair, he wished that the cold wind would fly him away. He thought of running away but he knew that he had no means of running away from the fucking yakuza. After what feels like an eternity a tall man with big arms came out of the door. Akira looked up to him, his face was unreadable as if it was made of stone. "Come" He ordered as he grabbed Akira's arm without waiting for his response.

The man dragged Akira through the dimly lit hallways. Akira sumbled occasionally as he failed to keep up with his pace. His heart was poindung intensely, he didn't wanna die yet. Their pace slowed down as they eventually stopped in front of a relatively fancy door. Akira gulped as the man dragged him inside and left leaving Akira alone with the the Shuyja smoking his cigarillo and his legs crossed on the table. He just stood there his eyes wide like a deer about to be hit by a car. He would tremble if he wasn't paralyzed from the fear as he took his surroundings in. "Hello" he muttered under his breath.

 

[Verse]

Danny brought the guest in. It looked like a fucking joke. Sure, Danny's shoulders constituted the same mass as that of maybe two other grown men, so he could make most people look small. But this little excuse for a person beside him was minuscule. As the big enforcer walked the little male in, Shuyja laughed, and there were gray clouds coiling around his head like the mist around a mountain top.

Even when Danny left the little thing alone, he looked small. Shuyja put his soles back on the floor and leaned forward, elbows on the table, the saliva-touched end of the cigg resting on his brow as the ball of the palm of the same hand supported his chin. This meant his other hand was petting the gun with two fingers. It'd look lewd to the twink. He even had a girly haircut. He had Shuyja's attention. Sometimes that was a very bad thing. But at least it wasn't instantly lethal.

He let the greeting from the smaller male hang in the air for a while.

"You're not a very good runner, are you?" he asked eventually, a runner of drugs, that is. Takeda, Danny's fellow enforcer, had left the other couch as well. "I think you're actually costing us money." he pointed out. "Why the fuck should I keep you around, eh?" he stood up suddenly, but remained on his side of the table. He brought the cigg with him but not the gun, though it wasn't far away as he took another lung-pull from the smoke. "What are you going to be good for?" Though Shyuja had probably already made up his mind about the uses for this little thing.

Akira would see that his boss was rather tall, and the suit accentuated his shoulders, even if he wasn't particularly large, consisting mostly of long limbs. That didn't change the deathly look on his face. He was still waiting for an answer.