Yamamoto woke up from a dreamless sleep, but awoke to find himself smiling slightly. Though his father could be cold or selfish, he had paid him well for his work, and his recently discovered half-sister Asuka truly made the youth feel welcome. Yet after a brief moment of tired reminiscing, he shot up in bed, realizing today was the day he killed a God. He felt ready.

Leaping out of bed fully clothed, having fallen asleep in them last night, he immediately made his way to his father’s office, opening the door, he found the familiar old man on his phone at his desk, speaking in hushed whispers. When Yamamoto approached the desk and sat down before it, he found his father abruptly hang up angrily.

“Well, Atticus got us the barebones, basic Interpol Reports and standard background checks. Said he’d need more time to get more detailed information. Useless Westerner. 

Still, here’s what we’ve got. You’ll have to make do. Tremor doesn’t stay still for long, so we need to catch him while we know his location. If anyone can take down this sonovabitch, it’s you, Yamamoto.” He smiled slightly with a nod, proud of his son.

Yet his son did not stare back. He stood over by the bookcase, holding his helmet. Placing it firmly on his head, he looked around comfortably, the visor adjusted specifically for his comfort and need. 

“Not Yamamoto…
Beesting.” 
*****************************************************************************************

Beesting lay on a small tarp on the roof of a three story building, watching just as intently down the scope of his Barrett M82 sniper rifle as he had originally, three hours ago. His suit was fully calibrated and airtight, the technology amazing the youth who had spent near his entire life in isolation. It had its own heating system, keeping him warm. The generator on his lower back was silent and discreet, requiring one with eagles eyes to spot its functionality. 

The obsidian sword of his father’s sat tightly in it’s sheath across his back. He had trained for hours with the blade, and was becoming increasingly proficient with it. He figured given a few more months, it would be as close to him as his own body. 

It was sunset now, and cars filled with people coming home from a hard day’s work drove obliviously drove by beneath Beestings sniping spot. The youth, growing impatient, looked away from the scope, instead pulling out a vanilla envelope out of a small carrying space built into the suit. Opening it, he skimmed through the information Atticus had provided. 

‘Age: 34
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 188lbs
Info: Left the employment of Oda Takahisa presumably on grounds of disapproval of the actions of the Yakuza, though rumors are he was outed on grounds of being brash and dangerous to the syndicate well being. His absence allowed the role of enforcement open to more traditional classes in the crime world such as Assassins. There are records of him going into exile in rural parts of Thailand and China, along with a spree of international incident in the last year. Yakuza witnesses state he his striking ability is unmatched and many members of the crime family hold him entirely responsible for the 6.7 quake that hit Osaka seven years ago. Interpol dossiers list him as a Muay Boran, Muay Thai, and Kyokushin expert,and confirmed metahuman. He is known to use direct strikes to transmit energy, and the use of these strikes against his environment in ranged attacks. It is unknown as to why he is back in Japan.’

“Hmph. Kyokushin huh..? It’d be interesting to test my skills against him. I haven’t had a decent spar in ages… Ah, well. Let’s see how this goes, first.”

Turning back to his sniper rifle, mounted on the roof, he looked into the scope once more. He waited only a hair’s breath before smiling within the confines of his technologically superior helmet. Inside the scope, he found a God he had been ordered to kill, and there was only one thing left to do.

Breathing slowly and cooly, he took aim at the meditating man in the middle of the park across the street from Beestings perch. With a slight squeeze, a loud boom was heard, and a bullet whizzed toward the man known as Tremor from Beesting’s hiding space.