Mpmagi

Cynthia hated running clean-up jobs. The scene always ended up messy: contaminated with tracers that could easily lead the authorities to herself. Desperate people do desperate things, after all, and when charging a sword-wielding gangster while armed with long nails could seem like a good idea.    That's why she organized the hit personally. Time, date, and location had been considered and carefully applied. Ryn Vniar's bodyguards had been bribed and paid off. Those who had remained loyal to their employer were resting somewhere at the body of Ephon Bay. Like a general executing a flanking maneuver Cynthia closed off every exit Ryn had. Th

Zabuza’s Momochi’s grave was marked by a tuft of fresh grass and a large sword stuck at it’s head. Despite the warm day, the hilt was cool to the touch. Ashen pulled and the zabato slid easily from it’s resting place.

 Takezo awoke, the blurry form above him tugged at the strings binding him. “Sephi?” he called. “Sorry, the name’s Mizoto. But from the look of this,” Taku’s vision cleared as Mizoto held up his foxmask. It marked him as an ANBU as much as the bounty papers she held up next. “Mizoto Kjima. Rouge Nuke-nin. Class C.” Mizoto’s lip curled and she tossed the paper into his face. “Class C? I run a theft business from here to Honshu and they give me Class C?” Taku tried to sit up, but the ropes around his back restrained everything but a wriggle. “An outrage, they said you were class