Avatar of j8cob
  • Last Seen: 2 mos ago
  • Old Guild Username: j8cob
  • Joined: 13 yrs ago
  • Posts: 2468 (0.54 / day)
  • VMs: 3
  • Username history
    1. j8cob 13 yrs ago

Status

Recent Statuses

6 yrs ago
Current All the guy did was change his pic to a swastika, say some entry-level /pol/ bytes, and changed his bio to basic slurs.
6 yrs ago
You know exactly who.
1 like
6 yrs ago
I don't know why we can't blast both zoophiles and pedophiles at the same time. Two birds one stone.
7 likes
6 yrs ago
idk who needs to hear this but if you like women then you're gay, no ifs ands or buts
4 likes
7 yrs ago
I'm back.
1 like

Bio

Bitch, I'm the best.

Most Recent Posts

Natasha Burkova - The Penalty Box


The Italian man was polite and straightforward, finally explaining the situation once he switched to English. His name was Benito and he was working for a cape named Purge. It was obvious that the "family" they belonged to was the Italian mafia, but Benito was smart enough not to outright claim that. He was an expert, this wasn't his first rodeo. Natasha took a mental note that he already had some background information on her, though by all outward appearances it didn't seem that he knew anything incriminating or dangerous about her. It was still a minor detail but one of potential importance. "Yes, I inherited my uncle's businesses in America and immigrated here recently," she confirmed, sparing a quick glance to her subordinates sitting at the bar. They all were pretending to not be paying attention but it was apparent that they were listening intently.

Now it was time for business. As Benito finished his proposition she put her hand in her purse and withdrew her little PDA. It was a small Blackberry with tiny buttons that were hard to press, but it was a useful tool for note-taking and scheduling. There was a brief silence on her end as she punched in a few quick notes about the Italian mafia based on Benito's brief descriptions. She didn't take too long so as to make it awkward and quickly placed her attention back on Benito. "It is a bit misleading to say that I am the one in charge here," Natasha said first, placing the small device back into her purse. "We are a family, much like your own. We look out for each other and for our communities. I have merely come to own a few businesses here in Denver, you don't need my permission to start your own. But... we are a very protective family. I would hate to hear that somebody got hurt, you see. We keep our affairs in order and expect our communities to do the same. Violence is something that I... abhor."

"Not to mention that money is always a problem for some of us. We do our best to support our brothers but some still hit hard times. Just as I would hate to hear about anyone being hurt, I would also hate to hear about anyone losing their jobs or going out of business. We all have mouths to feed."
Natasha looked down at her wristwatch to briefly check the time. She wasn't running late at all, but it was a force of habit for her to always be aware of the time of day. "If you still want my permission, then you shall have it. I do not mind having new neighbors. Just remember to tell your boss that our brotherhood here has many friends, some of them being quite... powerful. If there is no trouble then there is no problem." The blonde woman rose from her seat, drawing the attention of her entourage though none stood up immediately. "If you or anyone in your family wants to talk with me, they can call my office or stop by on weekday afternoons. I would like to meet this Purge man eventually, but I know what it is like to be a busy man. It must be especially difficult to go out in public when someone is in his position on top of that." From within her coat she withdrew a paper business card, complete with a phone number and the address of her shipping warehouse that her office was located at. It didn't look particularly impressive but the little white card got the job done. She held the card out for Benito, fully expecting him to take it. It didn't help that her sitting expression wasn't exactly friendly or smiling, so her stance had an intimidating tone as she offered him her business card. "Ah, before I forget I should warn you about Denver. There are many parahumans here, for better or worse. Your boss may want to know that before he makes the trip."
I'd be more impressed if it was plywood. That shit would splinter all kinds of fucked ways.
Natasha Burkova - The Penalty Box


The bar grew silent as the intruder opened the doors. All eyes were upon the new man as he approached, with the majority of the people present casually moving their hands to be in position for a shootout. Nobody drew their weapons but it was obvious by looking that they were all armed, or at least most of them were. Natasha herself did not make such movements, instead taking another sip from her glass of beer. As the Italian greeted her, one of the young men sitting at the bar stood up and walked to the "employees only" door nearby, exiting the room without a word. Two of Natasha's guards stood up from their seats and slowly made their way around the table they sat at, positioning themselves between everyone else and the front door as they took new seats. The obvious changes in demeanor and positioning were indicators of defense. There would be no way this new man could leave alive if the Russians desired.

Natasha herself, on the other hand, was quite calm and had no immediate changes in her outward demeanor. She always had an intimidating and frosty atmosphere about her and there was no discernible change with the newcomer. After taking one more sip from her drink she finally responded. "<Sent by your employer,>" she repeated, matching the Russian language this Italian man was capable of speaking. "<I have twenty minutes. Who do you work for, what do they want, and what do I get in return?>" Of course she was direct and to the point. Nobody that would track her down in this manner for a meeting would be talking about any of the legitimate businesses that she runs. It was obvious that this man's boss wanted to make some kind of deal with the Bratva in Denver, otherwise they wouldn't go to her. "<It would've been better to meet me at my office in the evening if you wanted to talk business.>" The older man poured another glass of beer and approached the Italian man. "Drink." The drink wasn't tampered with, though Alexander's gesture was threatening nonetheless.

Whether the Italian took the glass or not, the old Russian set the drink down on the nearest table to the man before retreating back behind the bar counter again. Natasha finally finished her glass and set it down, now being able to give her undivided attention to the unnamed man. "<I do not get much time to relax, so I would appreciate if you don't waste my time. Understand?>"
Natasha Burkova


It is no secret that Denver, Colorado is host to plenty of crime, despite the fact it is a parahuman hotspot with its own PRT branch. Or perhaps the criminal underworld is directly because of the high density of parahumans. It was also no secret that one of the prominent organizations in Denver was the Russian mafia. While the combination of bribery and keeping out of high-profile crimes has kept the Bratva under the radar for years, nobody is foolish enough to think they don't exist. They stay afloat through a combination of both legal and illegal business ventures. Many small-time shops across Denver are owned by Bratva members, who use these locations as safe houses. The particularly important locations are few in number, consisting of a sports bar in the downtown area, a strip mall in Cherry Creek, and a 24/7 shipping warehouse on the western outskirts of the city. These businesses are more heavily controlled by the Bratva and thus frequently host their members. The warehouse itself is host to their smuggling ventures and serves as a sort of headquarters. Even the police are aware of the Russian influence in these locations but lack the evidence to pursue any leads. A little bribery never hurt, either.

But recently there had been a change of administration among the Russian mob, and the criminal underworld of Denver knew right away. The local leader had passed away several months ago and since been replaced. Much like the previous head honcho, the new leader came from Russia itself and took the legal ownership of the warehouse and other locations as dictated by the will of the deceased. The operations have since been under the watchful eye and iron grip of one Natasha Castaneda. Not much had changed with the new leadership. The unobservant would figure nothing had changed at all. The truth is that Natasha had cracked down on incursions within her territory. Crime rates have already begun to drop within the Russian controlled areas as the mob has taken a stricter control. Small-time gangs have been kicked out and kept out, as well as many Bratva members taking up a sort of policing to prevent crimes around their neighborhoods. Nobody expects this change to be from any kind of good nature within Natasha; the plan is quite obvious that this reduces the public attention of her activities and reduces the amount of law enforcement patrolling the areas. By cracking down on non-Russian crime it allows her to continue her racketeering, smuggling, and all the other manners of illegal activities.

Of course the reception of Natasha herself has been quite mixed. Despite sharing heritage with many of her subordinates they are still quite unfamiliar with her. The woman is far less friendly and inviting than their previous Captain, but they respect her authority all the same. She doesn't frequent the bar as often as her predecessor did, though she does stop by every now and then to keep tabs on the cash flow. The consensus among the community of Denver is that she is simply a ruthless businesswoman with an icy demeanor, but those who know what is really going on have already realized that she is a calculated killing machine. The previous months have been a testament to her brutality, if one had to judge by the Bratva's new paradigm. When the only change was the leadership it is safe to assume it is the leader who was the cause. She is rightfully feared for her leadership, but even in person she is intimidating. Natasha always stays accompanied by a troop of enforcers with concealed weapons. They drive her around and follow her everywhere, serving as a roaming security detail. Natasha herself is known to be quite skilled, with the story circulating that she is ex-Spetsnaz and could kill with her bare hands.

While that is mostly true, only a select few know that military training isn't her only "ability."

Presently, Natasha and her entourage had arrived at the sports bar she owned, The Penalty Box. The black limousine parked in one of the reserved spaces of the parking lot behind the bar. After the driver exited the vehicle another four men stepped out, all of them Slavic in appearance, before Natasha herself got out of the car. Most of the men were of various heights that centered around average, so Natasha stood noticeably taller than them with the assistance of her high heels. While her troop was dressed fairly casually she herself still wore a professional business suit and carried with her a large purse of matching color. There was no way that someone could witness this arrival and not assume that Natasha was some kind of VIP with a bodyguard escort. Of course the bar wasn't even open yet, it was still over an hour before their opening time, so the arrival would seem odd to anyone who cared to notice. Nevertheless the small group walked around the building and entered from the front door, which was unlocked ahead of time specifically for them.

Most of the tables around the empty bar was occupied by chairs, though the place was certainly clean. The many various television screens were all turned on and tuned into the local sports stations, though no games seemed to be playing on any of the TVs. There was two older men, both seemed to be in their fifties, behind the bar counter and several younger men seated among the stools. There was only one other woman in this room besides Natasha, though this woman seemed to also be middle-aged as she was noticeably older than the young men she was seated with. One of the younger men, a big burly guy with a shaved head and a unibrow, was the first to greet the arriving party. "Hey, boss," he spoke casually with a wave. As the new group entered they all dispersed to remove a few chairs from a nearby table and begin seating themselves, leaving Natasha standing alone in the dead center of the establishment. "Доброе утро," was her response, her stern but high voice making the Russian language sound almost song-like in nature. The large man awkwardly chuckled and lowered his hand, setting it in his lap dismissively. "C'mon, you know I can only speak English..."

Natasha gave the larger man an intimidating glare, making him feel even more awkward before finally responding in English. "Good morning." Her thick Russian accent shone through her enunciation, though her distinct voice still gave her words and operatic sound regardless of the tongue she desired to speak in. It always irritated her how few of her subordinates could speak any languages other than English. The vast majority were born and raised in the United States, many of them here in Denver, so it was understandable they were unfamiliar with their heritage's language. That being said, it was still their heritage and seemed almost embarrassing to Natasha how few could speak it. It was mostly the younger ones, those under thirty, that were likely to only speak English. But the older members, even if they weren't native speakers, at least had a decent understanding of the language. And that made things easier for Natasha. The blonde woman turned her attention to the rest of the bar's staff before her. "Greetings."

After taking a seat in one of the chairs her bodyguards had procured, Natasha crossed her legs and set her purse on her lap, maintaining her gaze on the staff before her. "A beer, please," she spoke up, prompting a nod from one of the gentlemen behind the counter while the other moved to fulfill her order. With that out of the way, she glanced up at the largest TV that hung on the wall behind the counter, over the bartenders. "That one isn't level, you should fix it." The bartender worked fast, walking around the counter to hand Natasha her glass of beer personally before taking a seat in the empty chair placed next to her. "It happened last night. Don't worry, we'll fix it in a little while. Before we open," the older man assured her, his voice also notably thick with a grizzled Russian accent. "Perfect. Now, I was told there is going to be an inspection today, correct? I am confident that there will be no issues with the kitchen, but in case they want to snoop upstairs..." Natasha's free hand dove into her purse, pulling out a bound wad of cash that seemed to all be hundred dollar bills. She handed it to the man next to her, who nodded in understanding before placing it in a hidden pocket within his coat, right next to his handgun. "I do not know how Gregory handled these small things, but I want to keep it simple and smooth. I do not want to have anyone investigating this building for any reason at all, even if it is something silly like a food inspector. Tell the boys to be gentle with the belligerent patrons for the next few days." She paused to take another sip of her drink before setting it down on the table behind her. "Of course. There will be no troubles here. I will make sure of it," he assured once again, standing up from his seat to go fetch himself some beer of his own.

"Now then... I have some time to kill before I am needed. How's the family, Alexander?"
Here's something to look at.

I might join this.
I would also like to know if the rp is still accepting


We are.
I had half of it done yesterday, got to finish today.

I'm so good at this posting thing.
Tsukiko Umene


Time flies when you're having fun, but the past two weeks were a slow-moving hell for Tsukiko's team. Whether the three kids knew it or not it would be for the best. Tsukiko was certainly a harsh leader but an effective one nonetheless. She made sure that her team had visited Amegakure prior to this operation, to memorize the area and plan ahead. With Kazuki's assistance, Tsukiko even prepared hidden explosive tags around the area they would be holding. Two sets, so to speak. Throughout the area she made sure to place exploding tags along the ground and have her team memorize their positions before Kazuki concealed them. These would be for emergency uses as the kids can activate them by running over them and the delay would be just long enough for them to be safe. This is to provide further resources to use during the battle. The other set of explosive tags was set in a large ring around the area with all the tags spaced out but connected via wire. This was part of the exit strategy, as Tsukiko would detonate these all at once to cover their escape.

After their field trip they moved on to the real training. On top of a tough physical regimen, to make sure they were all at peak strength and capability, Tsukiko made sure to teach them practicality. How to make a fight unfair. How to specifically kill other shinobi. To get in the head of their opponent and predict their downfall. How to ambush, trap, use their environment, and most importantly how to get out of tricky situations. Every time they stepped out of line or had an attitude they would face verbal and physical punishment. Tsukiko didn't expect them to like her, even after all of the training would pay off. But that didn't matter. Senhime wanted results, the Jiyutai needed results, so Tsukiko made sure to give them results. Rin, Kazuki, and Takeshi had become more efficient soldiers. More efficient killing machines. True rebels that would take on larger forces and win through sheer guerilla warfare. At least today they would, so Tsukiko expected.

The team was spread out across a wide area, hidden among the civilians. They had already anticipated that the majority of reinforcements would come from the West and North, so the three kids were prepared to distract, hinder, and otherwise intercept the brunt of the Hamajo forces. Tsukiko herself, however, had positioned herself to the East of the statue. From there she had figured she would intercept the flankers who would take a wide route past her team. After all the Hamajo forces would prioritize getting on-scene, so even with an interception team in the way it would only stop some of the forces. A good leader would order a sizeable portion to go around the problem while their front line would fight the interception team so as not to lose time. Tsukiko would prevent this from coming to fruition.

When the crowd before the statue began to grow nervous at the sight of Akumako and her team, Tsukiko knew it was time. She had commandeered some of the Jiyutai's radios for this operation, making sure that Rin, Kazuki, and Takeshi all were able to hear her orders no matter the distance. They all had small, easy-to-conceal earpieces as a means to relay information. The middle-aged woman brought her hand to the earpiece and gave the command. "It's begun. Prepare to intercept any and all forces." It was all she needed to say. They had laid out the traps beforehand, memorized the locale, and planned accordingly. They even had the element of surprise on their side. Two minutes, tops, Tsukiko figured. All they have to do is distract for two minutes. The kids all knew to prioritize their own safety on this particular mission. They would be chased, which would give even more time for the rest of the Jiyutai, as opposed to standing their ground and dying. Normally running away would be a bad idea, but this situation may well call for a bit of footwork to get the job done.

And so footwork she performed. Tsukiko blended into the crowd of civilians rather well, but with everyone running away she was beginning to stand out like a sore thumb. It was time for her to get to work. After activating her Hiding with Camouflage Technique, she had become perfectly invisible and thus almost completely undetectable. Her first move to action was to jump up to a nearby second-story windowsill, to get a higher view above the crowd and pinpoint any Hamajo shinobi that were already on-scene at the start of the attack. Immediately she spotted three, though one of them was going to get to the statue team before Tsukiko would reach him. They could handle one person, so Tsukiko brought her attention to the other two that were beginning to move in.

Tsukiko was always fond of the spear as a weapon. Most shinobi would prefer a ninjato or their kunai as their weapon of choice, which is why Tsukiko came to learn how to counter this. The spear had more range, more control, more leverage. The fool who would think they could cross blades with Tsukiko would never live long enough to learn this. The downside to spears, however, is that they are large and ill-suited for stealth. For times like this she kept a ninjato to complement her style. And now was a great time to use it. She held the weapon in a reverse-grip, something that was also not widely considered among shinobi, and pounced towards the nearest Hamajo soldier. He was in the process of drawing shuriken as he ran, likely to take a ranged attack on the statue team. He would never see what hit him. Tsukiko landed directly behind him, bringing the business end of her blade across his calves. She followed through with the motion, spinning around while rotating around her target, allowing her to slash him again across the side of his neck before he even hit the floor. He was incapacitated, would lose consciousness within twenty seconds, and would die in under a minute. Her next target wasn't fully stupid, having seen this unfold from the corner of his eyes and already turned to face the invisible Tsukiko.

None of the blood had gotten on Tsukiko, so all she had to do was flick her wrist and the blood that was on her ninjato slid cleanly off the polished surface. A normal person would be confused and in fear before the sight of a shinobi being mangled by thin air, but a shinobi would only be in fear. This man knew what was coming to him and attempted to ready himself, bringing his hands up to perform handsigns for a jutsu of some kind. That was unacceptable. Tsukiko dashed forward and covered half the distance to the man before jumping several meters to the side. The technique her opponent used was some kind of small-scale mist, spraying out his mouth. No doubt an attempt at pinpointing her position. But Tsukiko had expected he would try something like this, which is the reason she jumped to the side to begin with. This gave her plenty of room to get out of the way, jumping to the side one more time before taking a direct line to her target. He had expected her to go straight for him, which would've allowed him to detect her, so he was confused that his mist wasn't picking her up. He was less confused when Tsukiko's ninjato stabbed completely through his left lung from behind. As she pulled her blade out she slapped an exploding tag onto his back. With one final kick off the falling man she was flung into the air, landing on a lamppost as her springboard was consumed in a fireball. He died screaming but there was no other immediate Hamajo forces that would be within earshot except those already at the statue, whom should all be occupied if Akumako's team was doing their job.

Any number of powerful assholes is already on their way here, Tsukiko thought, looking to the West. The Hamajo Palace was North and the Amegakure barracks were to the West, but the brunt of the city was to the South and East of the statue. This was the reason she had chosen to split the team in this fashion. Rin, Kazuki, and Takeshi were all close enough to assist each other but they all had the majority of reinforcements to handle. Tsukiko had less potential targets but a wider area to cover. As she began to move, already on the hunt for incoming forces, she couldn't help but feel like something was amiss. It isn't a matter of if Hamajo or his cronies will show up, it is a matter of how many...
© 2007-2026
BBCode Cheatsheet