Rebranding

[madimpossibledreamer]

they fixed our internet!  that was fast!  (and also I found out I could play Yakuza without internet even on Steam so that was an excellent discovery).  roommates are, however, coming back from florida today which...hopefully we all stay healthy.  or, you know, as healthy as possible

Main Points:
Buffy/Yakuza AU, follow-up to Finding Their Feet (because really, the order after the introduction doesn't matter as much)
Chapter Summary: The latest Ashigaru is a tough one.
Word Count: 380
Rating: Teen

 

        Laura Egler made it out with a scar on her face, but she did make it out.  She’d apparently been working in Vegas, barely made it out of a bad situation with just harassment and not worse, and she’d heard that there was somewhere better to work.  She doubles as bartender, when she feels like it, and hostess, though she never works the booths.  They’re safe enough, what with the surveillance and security patrols next to them, but she’s not comfortable with customers and tight spaces and that’s perfectly understandable.  Oddly enough, given their vaguely Japanese inspiration (even if it’s more anime than real life), she’s one of the few that smokes.  She’s popular enough on the floor and VIP room, coming off as the ‘worldly’ type. 
        She’s the one with the idea for online reservations.  The customer can take the time to mention their type, and on the flip side they can do some background research on the customer, too.  It’s a grand idea and she gets a bonus just for that. 
        She never wants to be the victim again.  Which is why she throws herself full force into learning to fight, and once she gets the brass knuckles and gets her street fighting style down she’s downright vicious.  Being surrounded by so many great fighters brings out the Eleventh Division in him because it’s not uncommon to hear the hyena laugh when he’s just throwing himself full force into sparring and having a blast.  Even when he does get the black eye.  Or bruised ribs, that’s a tough one. 

        Apparently, her harasser had called her a harpy, which makes the harpy on her back make sense.  She’s the type to take an insult and own it, so it fits her perfectly.  The wings are spread wide, enough that feathers wrap around and caress her shoulders.  She’s wearing Valkyrie-type armor, mouth open in a battle cry, taloned feet outstretched to take unsuspecting prey.  The wings and tail are more colorful than your average bird, maroon and the color of dried blood.
        He’s still got a sense of self-preservation.  And getting used to all the shirtlessness, weirdly enough.  “I ain’t gonna call ya a harpy, though.”
        She bares her teeth in a predator’s smile.  “All the better for you, Boss.”