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1 Fuck This Goddamn Hotel [Training | Private] on Mon Nov 28, 2016 12:27 am

Tré

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Chuunin
The birds were chirping. The sky was bright blue with fluffy clouds floating lazily past in various shapes that resembled anything from a regular old cloud to a steamship about to crash into what was definitely a dragon. A gentle, cool breeze was blowing in through his window as he slept calmly and peacefully with dreams that were neither horrible and nightmarish nor particularly happy and pleasant: they were peaceful, and that was all that matter as it allowed him to slumber on. That was, until a very loud and disturbing sound disturbed the peaceful air and woke him so abruptly he almost jumped through the ceiling.

”YOU TOLD ME BREAKFAST WOULD BE READY BY SEVEN O’CLOCK. IT’S NOW SEVEN O’ SIX! I DON’T SEE ANY BREAKFAST DOWN THERE, DO YOU? I’M A BUSY WOMAN, I HAVE A BUSY SCHEDULE, AND I CANNOT WAIT AROUND FOR SOME LAZY LAYABOUT TO DO THEIR DAMNED JOB. ESPECIALLY IF I’M PAYING THIS MUCH MONEY TO STAY HERE!”

Oh gods.. they had all forsaken him this morning. Even as Tre turned over, grabbing his pillow so that it wasn’t under his head but rather over top of it – his attempt at drowning the woman’s bellowing voice out – he couldn’t help but think that the god’s were fickle creatures trying to make him suffer in such a horrible and nasty manner as this. So far their stay had been quiet and pleasant, but something about the woman he could hear bellowing – a woman he had met the night before and whom had simply given him a nasty loathing glare when he said a polite hello in passing – had told him that that wasn’t going to be the case after he had saw the haggard looking valet bringing her luggage in the day before. The poor man had looked like he was about to burst out crying by the time he had left the woman’s room, and his hand had been devoid of a tip to boot.

Tre, hoping that the woman would have shouted herself hoarse by now, closed his eyes and attempted to get comfortable in his new position with his pillow over his head: his hopes of going back to sleep and indeed sleeping the rest of the morning away still high in spirit. Of course that wasn’t going to happen though because this horrible woman with the horrible voice who needed to shut the fuck up and die was not done screaming and berating people. Not. Even. Close!

”WELL, ARE YOU GOING TO ANSWER ME OR ARE YOU GOING TO CONTINUE TO STAND THERE LIKE A MORON? WHY ISN’T BREAKFAST READY, YET?! Silence followed this question and Tre could only assume that the poor steward or maid who had stumbled upon the woman and her ire was likely trying to respond in a polite and yet terrified and timid fashion: likely a response the woman wouldn’t care for. Sure, enough, not long after silence fell the woman filled it with shouting once more. ”WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T KNOW YET… DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME NOT TO SWEAR. I DON’T GIVE A FLYING FUCK OF A PIG HOW ANYONE ELSE FEELS ABOUT IT. THEY CAN ALL GO TO HELL FOR ALL I CARE. I WANT MY DAMN BREAKFAST AND I WANT IT NOW. IF YOU CAN’T DO YOUR DAMN JOB AND PROVIDE A SERVICE THAT YOU PROMISED THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD BRING ME SOMEONE WHO CAN.” God this woman. Tre couldn’t imagine having to stand there and take it. Having to stand there and pretend to be nice because in the service industry ‘the customer was always right, and even when the customer is wrong, they’re right and you must crack a smile and kiss their ass when they bend over!’. No, he couldn’t have dealt with that at all. At. All.

Once again it seemed like the woman had been told an answer she didn’t like because yet again her bellows started up: right before which he could hear others stirring in their bedrooms around his – likely the Dogkage and his band of merry men (and women) waking up to the noise too. GET ME YOUR MANAGER YOU INSULATE LITTLE ASS WIPE…. DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME TO CALM DOWN.  YOU GET ME THE MANAGER OR BY GOD I’LL WAKE EVERYONE IN THIS DAMN GOD FORSAKEN BUILDING UP UNTIL YOU DO. IF I WERE YOU I’D BE QUICK ABOUT IT; I’M NOT THE KIND OF WOMAN WHO BLUFFS!”

“You’re also not the kind of woman with manners, a sense of courtesy, or any brains at all… Are you?” Tre muttered into his pilow, fully aware that the woman wouldn’t be able to hear him through all the walls – and likely her own ringing ears because damn she had to be deaf by now – but he had felt the need to be a smartass and say it all the same. Even if he would be the only one enjoying it.

Once more silent fell upon the place though this time around Tre was by no means foolish enough to think it would last. Chances were it was going to be a long and very loud morning. He could only imagine the kind of treatment the manager would get when he arrived – whenever that was going to be. Tre felt almost compelled to get up, put some clothes on, go out into the hallway, and tell the woman to shut up but he knew it would only escalate the situation more. Then someone would get hurt. Not probably by him but maybe by the corpse looking woman Kenta had suddenly appeared back with – he wasn’t judging, but she certainly looked like a cannibal: zombies ate people right?

Still, sleep had a vicious grip on Tre and even though he knew he probably wouldn’t get anymore sleep it still claimed him once more as its own: though the oddest dream he had ever had began to unfold. Tre found himself walking down a strange path in what appeared to be the forests of Konoha: the path was strange simply because unlike the soil around him it was dark and had shards in it that sparkled. These shards weren’t glass, or glitter, but rather seemed to be made out of some kind of gem or stone. Either way they looked expensive and he couldn’t help but think what kind of person would have spilled something like this on the ground and simply forgotten about it. Even the black path looked to be made up of some kind of strange ground, and it moved and swayed in such a way as if someone had been stumbling around drunk with a hole in a sack or some such that was leaking this stuff – whatever it was – onto the ground. Tre pressed onward, now, curious as to where such a strange path would lead and looking to find whoever had left such a mess in their wake so that he could tell them about it – certainly they couldn’t have noticed right? So, with Tre pressing onward he found that the path began to twist and turn into some far deeper shrubbery, so much so that as he continued forward he found himself being pressed upon from all sides by various foliage. Animals skittered out from beneath bushes as he passed, startled from the bushes or what have you being rattled or shaken as he made his way. Even as he continued though the strangest thing kept popping into his head: the path didn’t change. If this was something being dropped out of a bag he assumed it likely would have begun to thin out by now. Perhaps a wagon could have dropped it, true enough, but then were were the tracks? He could barely squeeze himself through some of the shrubbery around so he didn’t see how a wagon could: if it had forced itself there would have been signs left behind of such and he could see none. Either way he was searching for answers and wouldn’t stop without them, so he continued to put one foot in front of the other and move on about his way following this black path with sparkly bits in it. He must have gone on for about a mile, nearly two, when the path just suddenly seemed to stop a good twenty yards in front of him. There was no man carrying a large – but now empty – sack in sight as he had imagined, or a wagon with a hole in the planks, in fact there was nothing at all but a frog that looked a bit too large and too out of place: and if he hadn’t realized he was dreaming he likely would have questioned the fact that the frag was purple, not green, and had yellow spots: he probably would have been questioning his sanity too. Tre approached the frog cautiously, watching as it opened its mouth – a strange mouth, stranger than a frogs, and then stopped in shock as the frog began to speak: or rather bellow in his dream, ”YOU STUPID MORON, HOW LONG DOES IT---”

Tre was jarred out of his slumber – once again – by the bellowing of the woman across the hall. ”… TAKE FOR YOU TO GO AND FIND THE MANAGER. AND WHO ARE YOU? ANOTHER IDIOT SENT TO PISS ME OFF FURTHER?!”

Okay, he was up now. He was up, and he was pissed. Or rather, he was awake and pissed: he hadn’t left his bed quite yet but that was certainly going to be the next step if this woman didn’t shut up – and he didn’t expect her to with the roll she seemed to be on. He had no idea how someone like her could afford a job well enough to afford a place like this – if she talked to people like she did then surely she couldn’t have advanced properly – but that was apparently about to be made known as the woman continued to disturb the glorious slumber of those around her. DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? I AM THE DAUGHTER IS MISOTO YAKI; A VERY POWERFUL BUSINESSMAN. IF HE KNEW HOW BADLY YOU WERE TREATING ME HE WOULD HAVE THIS WHOLE PLACE SHUT DOWN IN A MATTER OF MINUTES! YOU WOULD BE RUINED, FINISHED! YOU’D NEVER WORK IN THIS TOWN OR ANY OTHER AGAIN…”

Tre was unaware as he continued to lay there in bed, contemplating various ways of murdering this woman and getting away with it, that the manager of all people was about to arrive on the scene. The first technique he thought of using would have required the woman to attack him some way, preferably by a jutsu: he would slice through the jutsu in such a way to render it useless – cutting the very chakra that held the technique together and made it such. He would then follow this up with yet another new technique of his that would allow him to create five clones, and merge with them as he saw fit – jumping even from one to another to deliver devastating attacks that the woman would likely be incapable of dodging… of course, he’d have to get away after that because surely the authorities would be summoned. But, it was all thoughts: well formulated thoughts of jutsu he was more than capable of producing and using, but thoughts all the same. Not actions. Not yet, anyway.

”NOW WHO IS THIS MORON WALKING OVER?… THE MANAGER?! FINALLY… LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING” Tre threw his blankets and sheet off, threw his clothing on, and was out of his room like a flash. He made it to the door in time to hear the managers response and found himself quite glad he had decided to be as nosy as he had. ”No, let me tell you something, madame. I will not stand idly by while you insult and threaten my employees and treat them like garbage. You are a guest here and like all guests you will are expected to act with a certain kind of manner: standing out here insulting people and screaming and yelling at the top of your lungs will get you nowhere but thrown out of here. Do I make myself clear?”

”How dare you speak to me that way! I am the daughter of Misoto Yaki, a very powerful businessman. I’ll be speaking to my father---” Through the peep hole Tre could see the manager shaking his head with a small smile and holding his hand up to stop the woman in her tracks. ”Ma’am, I happen to know Mister Misoto very well – well enough in fact that I know for a certain fact he does not have a child. I do not know who you are to claim such a thing, but if you wish to discuss this further I can make arrangements for yourself, Mister Misoto, and I to discuss it over a cup of tea and some biscuits in my office. He happens to be staying with us right now too, on the floor above you in fact.” Well played, Tre thought. Well played indeed. The woman, who ever she was and who ever’s child she was, was not Misoto Yaki’s child: a very powerful businessman. Tre couldn’t help but laugh, covering his mouth and attempting to keep as quiet as possible so he wouldn’t give himself away hidden behind the door like he was.

”I… well no. That’s not necessary. My father is very busy and shouldn’t be disturbed over such things as this. I’ll just head down to breakfast now...” The manager and the two valets standing nearby simply moved off to the side and allowed the woman to pass through. After she was a good distance down the hall the manager looked at the two and nudged his head in the direction of the woman’s bedroom, ”Go in there and get her stuff, pack it yourselves if you have to I don’t care but be quick about it for me… She’s not coming back after breakfast. I won’t have her talking to my people like that and getting away with it. She sounds like a delusional psychopath.” The valets didn’t need telling twice, and as Tre kept watch through the peep hole he watched them scurry into the room after one of them made quick work of opening the door with a special key. They shut the door behind themselves and Tre could only imagine they were getting to work packing up her stuff and making sure they could get it all done and have it all waiting so that after she was done leaving she could be thrown out by the manager. Meanwhile the manager stood in the hall for several minutes talking into an earpiece he wore; from the gist of things Tre was overhearing it sounded like he was calling in security for back up in case the woman gave anyone else a hard time while they were trying to escort her off the premises.

Tre stepped away from the door at that point, chuckling to himself. The woman was going to be removed, likely forcefully, and Tre wouldn’t have to worry about being woken up any more to some great big bellowing oaf. That sounded like as good a deal as any.

Wordcount: 2,560

2560/1500 [2500 - 40%] = 1060 [Iaidō (居合道, lit. Way of Iai) Trained]

1060/900 [1500 - 40%] = 100 [Iaidō: Chakra Cutting Draw Trained]


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Who's gonna stop me when I turn violent?

N O B O D Y.

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