Asami
Pet Name: Asami
Owner: Rose
Theme / Type: Terror Kratork
MisticPal Name: Velox
MisticPal Age: 4680 Days
Battle Portal Stats
Hit Points: 137 / 137
Strength: 40
Defense: 0
Speed: 30
Intellect: 22
Misticpower: 76
Books Read
Books Read: None
Exotic Foods Eaten
Foods Eaten: 7/1254 [ View Foods ]
1. - Albino Pommekin
2. - Pomme Pilot
3. - Pommekin Cubed
4. - Primped Pomme
5. - Scorpion on a Stick
6. - Toxic Pomme
7. - Tropical Pomme
2. - Pomme Pilot
3. - Pommekin Cubed
4. - Primped Pomme
5. - Scorpion on a Stick
6. - Toxic Pomme
7. - Tropical Pomme
{ my adversaries call me trouble }
All I wanna do is (bang bang bang bang)
And (ka-ching) and take your money~
Adopted 3:13 AM on March 3, 2012 from RatbAiT <3
Name change from Velox to Asami on 07/05/12~
Name: Asami
Alias: A.
Age: 24, almost 25
Status: Assassin (hunts supernatural creatures)
Personality: sassy, straight-forward, easily annoyed
Appearance: Straight black hair, asymmetrical pixie cut style; 5'7" tall; thin face, deep-set brown eyes, has a slightly muscular build; thin and pale pink scars all over her body; tattoo of the spine down her spine; long, talon-like nails, usually painted a deep red; half-Mongolian, half-Korean
Quirks: Always carries around two silver revolvers with runed wooden bullets and a handful of rune-marked daggers; has a deep, throaty chuckle, which is strange in contrast to her usually soft and rather gentle voice
- - - - - - - - - - -
It was much darker in the slums of the city, far removed from the tourist trap that was the strip. Here the lights crept along the corners, but their spindly fingers were beaten back by the constructs of the night. A gangly teenage boy was standing alone in the alleyway, his hands tucked neatly away in the folds of his jeans, and his shirt warm against the cold and rusted metal of a dumpster. He wasn't sure how long he had been waiting there or why he hadn't bothered to grab a coat before leaving, but he was tired of waiting and he was praying that his clients would be there soon.
His breath seemed to be fighting in tendrils against the sky, illuminated by the guzzling streetlamp across the street. He coughed and clenched his fingers together, reminding himself that he couldn't leave before seeing those who were coming.
And thank God he didn't have to wait any longer.
The sound of footsteps came from just beyond the corner, the quiet patter of two sets of feet. A tall girl with dark, cropped hair was rounding the corner, her small lips wrapped around a respiring cigarette. Behind her was a man in a trench coat. His hands seemed to be shaking and he was walking with a noticeable frown on his face. He seemed to be holding his breath, perhaps uncomfortable with the smell of tobacco and the subsequent deprivation of clean air. The pair sauntered into the alleyway. The boy watched as the girl threw her cigarette onto the cement and crushed it with the sole of her boot.
"Ah." She had noticed him leaning against the dumpster, shivering and unhappy. "Sorry we're late. Got a bit caught up. You got the money?" Her arms were crossed now. Thin and puckered pink scars ran up the length of her arm and disappeared just beyond her elbow. It was as if the girl had gotten bored one day and taken to carving her own skin.
The boy pushed himself off the dumpster and smiled. "Thought you'd never show up. Yea, I've got the money. Boss says he'll give you half in advance and half after the deed's done."
"Just half?"
"That's what my boss said."
The girl shook her head. "You know who we are?"
"Bounty hunters."
"That's right, Jack Daniels," she said, surreptitiously referring to his sloppy tee. "Bounty hunters. But not just any, sugar plum, we're assassins of highest breed. You know who your boss is sending us after?"
"No."
"'Course not. Spineless guy like him wouldn't bother telling help like you. But I'll tell you. Think you're worth telling seeing as you're doing all the dirty work for him. Didn't even bother to come meet us himself. Do y'know how hard it is to make it from Boston to Vegas in a few hours? You don't. And your boss? He wants us to kill a creature from a place you won't ever set foot in until you're dead and rotting with the worms."
The boy was silent.
"Sweetie, you have no idea what we've been through. I'll tell you something 'bout myself. They call me Asami. And this here's my partner, Peeta. We're assassins with a specialization in supernatural creatures." She swept her hair out of her face. "So, you'll understand when I tell you... half won't make the cut. Tell your boss we'll be taking it all right now and that after, he'll be sending us the same amount. And that if he doesn't. Well... he'll be seeing us."
"Are... are you threatening him?"
"Can't say I'm not," she replied, sidling up to him and placing her fingers against his spine. "So the money if you'd please..."
The boy looked at the man. "He can call the police, you know. My boss."
Peeta raised his eyebrows. "I'd give her the money if I were you, boy. We really don't have time for this. Time's kinda precious when you're in a business like ours."
"You two are joking, right?"
"'Fraid not, pumpkin spice," Asami whispered. "Let's not make this harder than it should be. Why don't you tell your boss I threatened you. Held you at gunpoint, pistol to your brain and made you give me the money. He'll understand. Even spineless men got hearts. Actually... you know what? For good measure, lemme introduce you."
"T-to who?"
"Shiny here." She pulled her pistol from her jacket pocket. "It likes the taste of skin against its lips." The boy heard a click and then the keenness of the gun steady against his nerves. Asami pressed her mouth carefully onto his left ear. "Now let's hurry. A million buckaroos now is a lot and I intend to do what I've been told to do. Don't wanna add you to my list of kills."
The boy was shaking now, not from the cold but out of fear. He fumbled with his back packet and pulled out a thick envelope.
"Thank you, Jack." The gasp of the pistol left his temple.
He dropped the envelope onto the floor and then ran from the alley, his sneakers digging deep into the crackle of the cement and popping against the filter of the wind.
Asami shoved the pistol back into her pocket and bent down to pick the envelope up. Her fingernails cut nimbly through the crisp of the paper and she reached in to count the Franklins. "Jesus," she said, looking up at Peeta, "I love the smell of money. Makes a girl wanna do bad things."
He smirked. "Let's go do some bad things then."
"Ha!" She smiled up at him. "Now you tell me, lemon peel. Should we enter with a bang or a boom?"
*This pet belongs with Rose.
If anything should happen to her
please contact Rose to return her.*
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