[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/DmjRHYr.png?1[/img]
[h3][color=548b54]Dulga Tarata[/color][/h3][/center]

After a long train ride north Dulga finally arrived in Hokkaido. Even now it was cold, with a stiff breeze making Dulga wish she had worn thicker clothes. But it was also comfortable. It was familiar to her; she grew up around here so the cold never bothered her anyways. Besides she wouldn't be out for long. Shortly after her train ride Dulga walked into the city of Sapporo, and shortly after took another train for a short ride until she reached a rather high class area. Here where bright lights, shopping malls, fancy restaurants, old fashion and five star inns, the perfect destination for a classy and rich person. Top heroes in japan have recommended some of the local places around here for their hospitality and quality. But there was one place that stood on top, yet at the same time almost very little is heard. The Continental Hotel.

By all accounts the Continental is a fine place. Rich food, find decor, luxurious beds, and all the fine entertainment one may ever want at one's earliest convenience. They are a franchise that spanned the entire world, with hotels in ever major metropolis in nearly every nation from the USA to Russia, Egypt and Thailand, in major cities like Rome, New York, even Mecca. But being a hotel isn't the reason to their success. In truth, the Continental is a sanctuary, safe haven, and neutral ground for all sorts of vigilantes, criminals, and heroes alike. While not criminal in-and-of itself, they associate with criminals peacefully, serving them with the same level of respect and honor as they do with heroes. And of course, none of this could be easily proven even to the most dedicated of investigators; it's not unusual for a criminal under a guise to book a room, just as well it's a unfortunately regular occurrence for gung-ho heroes to break the Continental's rules of hospitality and start a fight because of "justice". 

Of course the politics of the Continental were of no concern to Dulga. She didn't really care about how they operated as long as they did. And she needed to use their service. The girl walked through the front entrance where she was greeted by the doorman, nodding his head to her and calling her "Madam Tatara". This wasn't unusual; the doorman often knows everyone who comes and goes into the Continental, especially if they're guests. Dulga stopped and bowed her head to him. 

[color=548b54]"Good afternoon. Is the chauffeur here?"[/color] 

[b]"Of course. Shall I call him up?"[/b]

[color=548b54]"Please do."[/color]

The doorman led Dulga to the receptionist and informed her of the request. There Dulga gave the receptionist some information about herself, including her name, age, and business. [color=548b54]"Tatara Dulga, sixteen years old. I'm here to pick up a vehicle."[/color] Subtly she slid a single gold coin towards the receptionist, who just as subtly took the coin, added a bit of information to her request, and asked Dulga to take a seat while the chauffeur arrived. Dulga did as she was told and waited on one of the couches, watching people come and go. These people were not particularly unusual in their demeanor or appearance; you had people in business casual attire lounging around and conversing with each other, families with children off to their next attraction, weary and tired travelers looking for a warm meal and soft bed. Hard to believe that just about everyone here was either an assassin, mercenary, or vigilante. Even the children were likely here to unwind after a long stretch of grueling training and conditioning.

Soon a dark skinned man arrived and asked for Dulga by name. She stood up and followed him outside where her ride was; a [url=https://i.imgur.com/OoTr6Bm.jpg]old fashion motorcycle[/url] belonging to her father back when he was an apprentice. Despite it's age and not having a single original part since it was made, it still worked fine, drove fast, and could haul a cart through seven feet of snow up and down a mountain in the middle of winter on one tank of gas. If Dulga didn't know better she'd think this thing had a quirk where it just won't breakdown. And for better or for worse, it was hers now. Dulga's father gave to his wife, and she gave it to Dulga after she died. Dulga technically didn't have a license for it but that didn't mean she didn't know how to use it, and the Continental wasn't about to card her either. She took her keys from the chauffeur and handed him a gold coin. As he pocketed it he asked Dulga a question.

[b]"Is there anything else you'll require?"[/b]

[color=548b54]"Tutoring. I'm not doing so great in my classic literature courses."[/color]

[b]"I'm afraid that is not one of our services we provide."[/b]

[color=548b54]"Hmph. How unfortunate."[/color]

Loading up her belongings, Dulga put on her helmet and drove off. Now that she had her bike, she'll have to drive further into the wilderness of Hokkido to actually reach her home. Made Dulga almost teary just thinking about it. Almost.