[Ghouligan]

Nightfall.

No one should be working at this hour. The janitorial staff have gone home, leaving a cleanliness that evades the morning. The potent scent of castile soap and window cleaner could get you high. But this doesn’t deter the men congregating in an office two corridors past the elevator. In the dark, empty hall the illuminated office was a beacon. A monster lurks in the shadows, its footsteps burdened with the weight of justice.

“Cheers.” Glasses clanked. Three men sit around a table, each holding a bottle of sake. “To your freedom.”

“To the best lawyer I could find.”

“To my freedom!” The man to his left eyes him. “And, er, a kind, thoughtful boss…”

“Better.” He laughs. The lawyer laughs. The employee tepidly joins. “Although, I’d prefer wise.”

The lights go out.

Their heads whip to the switch. An eight-ball is lodged within the wall, penetrating from the outside. Out the door comes a shadow. As its hand reaches the frame, they can see it’s anything but human. Its fingers are ethereal — an impression of a person. They come to see its face, a skull with red markings, as it locks on to the twitchiest person in the room.

“I-is this a surprise?” He desperately looks at the lawyer and then his boss. He knew he had gotten off too easy. “You know I don’t like horror…”

“Not a surprise.” The lawyer moved to stand before being forcefully sat again. “I just wanted to get you a chair, friend. More the merrier.”

“More the merrier!” The boss chimes to no avail.

The figure puts his other hand on the boss’s shoulder before slamming them onto the table. They both fall unconscious as the target scrambles to his feet. He runs as far as he can into the room, the exit blocked by Ghouligan.

“What do you want?” He begs. “I’ll give you all my money. All their money!”

“Tanjiro Yamamoto,” Ghouligan stepped away from the table and toward the entrance. “You are responsible for the deaths of countless innocents. You used your damned machines to sell drugs and weapons to any gang leader offering dinero. Yet you dare plea innocent in court?” He tosses the eight-ball up and down. “There is justice beyond the courts.”

“Eh?” The man was equal parts confused and terrified.

“Right. Japanese.” Ghouligan muttered. “I’m sure in your doki doki you know why I’m here.”

---

Jackie Maradona

[Jackie Maradona]

[attr="class","susurrus"]

[attr="class","jikan"] [attr="class","hiraeth"]私は世界を変えたい

[attr="class","achee"] [attr="class","castleonthehill"] ❝ The darkness stilled. Trembling, the air held its breath. It couldn't know what would befall the world as the light dimmed. It wasn't privy to the machinations laid dormant beneath its weight, either. Staring down at the Earth below, it could only imagine what the people would do, and, admiring their plights, whispered unto them a single question: "Will something new be born this night?" There, opposite the office building, sat a figure draped in shadows. Their presence was known by none, as they had planned it, and their intent was placed on but one. The shift from the day to dusk had been just as they'd pinned it, blending into and becoming a part of the scene, just as any piece of the city did. The wind hardly brushed against them, and the air refused to cling to them. As their figure moved into place, crouched atop the edge and peering into the scene, the winds shifted through the gaps of their figure, staying not a moment longer with the cloaked figure and their form. It hissed as it passed them by. Their mark, within the controlled confines of the unassuming office, celebrates their occasion. A "Tanjiro Yamamoto," the cloaked figure recalled, was tonight's focus. What a lucky break to be had, and what a lawyer at their disposal — catching the prosecutor on a technicality, if they recalled. What good fortune they must have had, then, to be given such an out to their "alleged" crimes. Certainly, any other man in his position would have been doomed to a cell, to a painful life only promising a worse fate beyond its concrete walls when their time was served. But it was Yamamoto who, in their good fortune, would face an outcome befitting the charges. A light flickered in the corner of Ghouligan's vision, a motion most wouldn't notice, before the cloaked figure crashed through the window. Their flight, even after piercing through the glass, was unhampered. With a leg emerging from their cloak, straightened for precision and stiffened for impact, the intruder took to the person they deemed the most critical. "Mo'e out of the way," growled the figure. As they appeared beneath the warm lights of the office hue, their blackened visage would come to light with a sickly, neon green glow. Their face — a screen mask, covering all features that would identify them as human — spark to life with the display of a toothy grin and crossed eyes. "I've got bu'iness, and I can't get anything ou' of a corpse." ✉ tag -- Ghouligan ✎ 423 words ※ What shall be born this night?

[attr="class","ache"]

MADE BY MIZO

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[Ghouligan]

“How about English?” Antoine swapped tongues. “Any better?”

“Hehe…” Yamamoto shrugged. “Moshi moshi…?”

“You monolingual fu—” He slipped back into Español. A light flickered. And the guest would meet a floating billiard ball with a pool stick inches behind it. Her voice was daggers, but the language barrier proved insurmountable. Who the hell is this?

“A corpse?!” Yamamoto shrieked. “Why does he want to kill me?”

With Antoine’s attention focused on the intruder, Yamamoto shuffled further away into the corner of the room. Antoine repositioned as he tossed another pool ball into the air. His pool stick was now aimed at both targets. He couldn’t shoot simultaneously, but they didn’t need to know that.

“Don’t move.” If he could understand the hostility in her voice then Yamamoto should hear the venom in his. Maybe he’d have better luck with this one. The suit may not have spoken English, but the intruder might.

“I don’t speak Japanese.” He offered the olive branch. “Are you protecting him?”

If all else failed, he’d presume her his bodyguard and deal with her the way he dealt with the lawyer and the boss. Yamamoto would pay for his transgressions.

His grip tightened.

---

Jackie Maradona

[Jackie Maradona]

[attr="class","susurrus"]

[attr="class","jikan"] [attr="class","hiraeth"]私は世界を変えたい

[attr="class","achee"] [attr="class","castleonthehill"] ❝ The intruder, as though Ghouligans voice stung them, recoiled at his words, flinching from the sound as they slithered inside her ear. Though, unlike a serpent's cold, leathery scales, it moved more like a warm, whispy smoke, like what might come from a dinner stove on a chilled afternoon. Their posture, hostile and lowered to the ground, tentatively rose up, squaring themselves like their opposite counterpart and standing as he did. Their cloak opened at the front, with the unnamed entrant lifting an arm from their cloak. Wrapped around their arm was a large, bracer-like sleeve, wraps dyed an orangeish-red. The sleeve unwrapped itself from their forearm, easing themselves from the dark skinsuit concealing their flesh, and hung from her arm like a towel. Her opposite arm, her right, met her forearm, pressing down against the device. When the hand was lifted, a strange creature now resided in the device — an orbicular creature, as if a face grew from the rubber of a kickball, with a sharp gaze and wicked grin. "English?" they asked, their breath light as they spoke the tongue. "A little." The bracer lifted off of their arm, rising like they were on the end of invisible strings. The tool tightened and reshaped itself again, resuming the shape of their arm while now floating independently of their limb. "But shou 'ave a language." The floating piece of equipment lunged for the suit, holding him by the neck against the wall. He certainly wouldn't be moving from his pin position, though still with enough air to survive. The figure's language changed again, their incongruent tongue finally flowing out like it was intended. Where their words prior seemed to clash with voice, and their take on English being relatively stunted, they now moved to the shape of their speaker's mouth. Though, as they passed through the air, the language itself differed from the modern conception of the language. Where Ghouligan was familiar with Spanish, the figure's words were a variant — a twist directly from an origin: Castilian Spanish, or what the figure knew as "Castellano." "I know that kind of accent — I swear I've 'eard it before. Shou can under'tand if I 'peak like this, shes?" ✉ tag -- Ghouligan ✎ 367 words ※ Ah, fellow multilingual!

[attr="class","ache"]

MADE BY MIZO

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[Ghouligan]

Telepathy. Antoine instinctually assessed the data before him. It was a habit to understand his surroundings and create a strategy should the situation turn hostile — more hostile than it already was. There was a barrier between them. Yet they both had business with the same man. The kind of business would determine whether this was another he needed to kill. He wasn’t sure if this was an act of peace, war, or something else entirely but she manifested a sphere of her own. An offputting face rested where he expected an eight to appear.

“I can,” He concedes. At first, he’s tempted to keep this part of himself a secret. If anyone finds the link between his civilian life and his vigilante life, it could be disastrous. But Japan was a big island. Bigger than any he had been to before. She’d never find him. “But I’m not familiar with your dialect.”

He had traversed the Caribbean. He had become fluent in a few distinctions between the dialects, from the slang they’ve developed to the different names that reference the same cuisine. This, however, was strange.

“What business do you have with that man?”

---

Jackie Maradona

[Jackie Maradona]

[attr="class","susurrus"]

[attr="class","jikan"] [attr="class","hiraeth"]私は世界を変えたい

[attr="class","achee"] [attr="class","castleonthehill"] ❝ Whether or not she could track this man down to his origin, she held no interest in making him her mark. Though she may, with the assistance of her third eye — her guardian AI — be capable of such a feat, she had little reason to expend so much effort; especially not against a target with whom she'd acquired little data thereof, either as an enemy or an ally. With a target such as Mr. Yamamoto, Grinta could only see so many types of people interested in the criminal. It was also no coincidence that she and the masked man arrived at such a similar time — they were both, at the very least, familiar with his story if they knew of his release. But for what purpose had they come? Grinta had her own ends in mind. However, for the stranger, whose bizarre ability seemed to levitate objects — was it telekinesis? — he'd backed Yamamoto into a corner, right up to death's doorstep. She wouldn't think a villain — not what she considered one, anyway — to be interested in disposing of a man like him. As a requited man, Mr. Yamamoto would likely remain to be a useful asset; could they be a liability, in this person's mind? "If shou under'tand me, then listen well." Peaking out from her cloak, two more of those orbicular creatures appeared — one white and one black — taking to the air at either of her shoulders. Their human eyes, stretched grotesquely like taxidermy, stared towards the ghoul. The white one, on her right, stared with a crimson sheen, and the black one, on the other side, looked with a green hum in their focus. "Look 'ere, Skeletor," came the alabaster creature, lifting its gaze as it continued, "ya can't go damagin' product — keeping tabs on this guy's nothin' easy, understand?" The other one, retaining its calmer stare, sighed. "It'd be a waste to not sweep 'em up when his ties are cut. Even worse, he might get his associates' business again now that he's free — can't go havin' that, neither." With her hands returned to her cloak, and her figure once again hidden within it, Grinta kept her blank stare forward. The elements of Ghouligan's quirk were still a mystery to her. She didn't know enough to let her guard down; even if it meant coming off as hostile, she would do it. "I can't 'ave shou ending 'im ju't yet. He 'as enough informa'ion in 'im to 'top a whole lot more than 'is whole life's work." ✉ tag -- Ghouligan ✎ 420 words ※ Short-Term Success or Long-Term Change?

[attr="class","ache"]

MADE BY MIZO

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[Ghouligan]

They need information?

If he had eyes, he would squint. If he wasn’t wearing a mask, then they would see it. Unfortunately, he neither had eyes to squint with nor a bare, naked to show his distrust of them. Their story was coherent, but if built upon a faulty premise, he’d be the one getting played. Still, he weighed the options.

Antoine was a foreigner. He was not tethered to this country. If people were willing to make bigger changes than his own, meager impact. Who was he to get in the way? He thought back to the syndicate that ran his father down. What would he have done if someone took his rightful vengeance?

“You have five minutes,” Antoine said. “But he does not leave here alive. I’ve seen what a rotten banana does to the bunch.” Totally not a made-up saying. And sounds so much cooler in Español. Trust me.

“Before you start,” Curiosity had gotten the better of him. “How much change can a single person bring?

---

Jackie Maradona

[Jackie Maradona]

[attr="class","susurrus"]

[attr="class","jikan"] [attr="class","hiraeth"]私は世界を変えたい

[attr="class","achee"] [attr="class","castleonthehill"] ❝ Turning away from Ghouligan and approaching the man held firmly by his neck — not choked, but still unable to pry himself from the wall — the leftmost creature, the insultingly crimson glare coming from its side-eye, fell behind Grinta's step. Of the trio she presented, the haughty one was the only remaining pair of eyes trained on the vigilante. "We'll take however long we fuckin' take," it scoffed. Its bulbous eyes managed to narrow. "You think ya get info outta a guy like this in five minutes? Yer goddamn insane." It continued to speak Castillian Spanish, with its words falling meaninglessly on Mr. Yamamoto's ears. "Hell, yer stupid ta boot! We make all these plans, get the perfect setup to nab the guy, and you got the audacity to threaten his life? You have any idea how hard it is to get somethin' out of a guy who's already convinced he's dead?" The second creature, slowing from its path and following out of sync with Grinta's stride, turned back to also face Ghouligan. "Just'a rotten banana, eh?" Grinta continued forward, squatting down to Mr. Yamamoto's level and speaking in hushed tones. "You think this guy–" the quirk tilted in Yamamoto's direction– "makes people go bad?" The one still ahead of Ghouligan laughed. "If it's with bananas, do ya still got it apple-pickin'? Banana-pickin' just don't sound right!" As it laughed there, still held aloft, it would roll through the air. Somehow, it even closed those fleshy eyes it had as it fell into hysterics. "Climbin' the tree must get exhaustin', especially when the rotten ones are still gonna be there — and the tree still stands! It's still there, even right now!" While Pundit continued to jeer, their creator sat there, in the corner of her room, on her bent knees, speaking to the acquitted in his tongue. As she spoke, Yamamoto would sink further and further into the wall, shrinking away from the vigilante's stare; as he did, she would only further lean in, her words flowing out with no respite, nearly even forcing her mask against his face. One of her hands placed itself ahead of herself, balancing on it. The other, the one now bared from its shell, grasped the man by his shirt, digging her hand into the fabric. He was shaking. Until, eventually, Ghouligan's words snuck into Grinta's ears. Her voice slowly fell silent. Her voice, which hadn't so much as stopped for breath, piddled off. Her grip on his collar, from a bite like a mighty jaguar's, softened until it held him no more. And, eventually, she turned away from the man. As she did, a slash across Yamamoto's cheek became clear to see; thin of blood, but still there. "What are shou 'oping for me to say?" Still in a squat, Grinta crossed her arms over her knees. "If shou need reassu'ance from a 'tranger, of all people, then what are shou e'en trying to do? Hm? 'ell, why do shou think I'm the one who knows the answer?" ✉ tag -- Ghouligan ✎ 505 words ※ Whose answer are you looking for?

[attr="class","ache"]

MADE BY MIZO

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[Ghouligan]

“Your inability to get the job done isn’t my problem.” There isn’t a drop of malice or frustration in Antoine’s voice. He’s already doing them a favor by giving their viewpoint consideration. To him, interrogating the man is a waste of time. If you can’t get the information in five minutes, it’s not worth having. From what he knew, people were most willing to talk within their final moments. What they were asking for seemed unreasonable.

Antoine wasn’t amused. This floating, orb-thing loved to hear itself talk. And he already presumed this was to keep him distracted to buy more time. If it weren’t for the five minutes he promised, then he’d ignore the philosophical pontification of this deranged artifact.

“If I see a rotten banana, I pluck it. The same goes for a bad apple. You show me the tree, and I’ll chop it down. But I don’t see a tree. And if you can’t find a trail to it in five minutes, why waste your time? Heroes will get to it first. I go where they won’t, not where they have yet to.”

He turns to the woman.

“I’m not looking for reassurance. I’m looking to understand.” Antoine looks between the two Pundits, trying to make sense of this quirk. If it even was one. “Because I don’t understand what you’re really after here.”

---

Jackie Maradona

[Jackie Maradona]

[attr="class","susurrus"]

[attr="class","jikan"] [attr="class","hiraeth"]私は世界を変えたい

[attr="class","achee"] [attr="class","castleonthehill"] ❝ Grinta rose from her spot near the floor. Dusting herself off as she rose, followed along by Yamamoto on the end of Grinta's tech, she offered him a twisted gaze. The acquitted strained at her eye level, his feet kicking out from beneath him. "The trees and the bananas, the where and the won't." Her arms, her whole figure, fell into the drapes of her cloak, hidden again from Ghouligan's sight. "'eroes take ca'e of their issues? Cut down bad trees if shou see them?" A light, airy chirp arose from her throat, singing as she laughed. Reaching a hand from her cloak, she scratched the underside of her chin. "The 'eroes aren't ba'kets for catching the 'poiled. They aren't e'en axes for trees gone bad, really." Yamamoto struggled against the grip, still unable to move. "Pulling up roots ta'es longer than fi'e minu'es, and the 'eroes aren't going to be the ones to do it. I don't know why they would, really; I don't see why a tree would do that to itself." "You fancy yerself an axe?" The alabaster creature floated past the wall, moving to one of the yet-occupied corners of the room. Its gaze held Ghouligan at its center, tilting its grin in his direction. "Real barbaric of ya, if ya ain't even know what yer swingin' at. We got a great look into the earth–" it motioned towards Yamamoto– "and yer busy trying to see how high you can throw. Rather ya didn't, if I'm bein' frank." "Findin' the roots gone ill's much harder when we have axes fallin' on each other. Ya don't wanna be spending your life testing your throws, do ya?" The shadowy creature took another corner, falling away from both Grinta and Ghouligan as it floated along. It did not try to meet Ghouligan's gaze. "Really, I'd say—" "Can shou shut it, both of shou?" Grinta growled at her flying creatures. "Shou're ma'ing it mo'e complica'ed than it need' to be." With a deep inhale, followed slowly by a controlled exhale, Grinta motioned a hand towards Ghouligan. If she could, she would pinch the bridges of her nose. "Look, I don't care what shour deal is. I don't know if shou ju't 'ave a murder boner, if shou're the mo't impatient man I've e'er met, or if shou're plainly a forro, but don't fuck with my work. I don't need to deal with shou, too. ✉ tag -- Ghouligan ✎ 404 words ※ Who is the tree, and what are roots?

[attr="class","ache"]

MADE BY MIZO

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[Ghouligan]

Time was limited.

Antoine had spent enough of his indulging in conversation. And he was indulging. In different circumstances, Antoine would have made his decision and let them deal with the consequences. He would have dealt with the repercussions, too, if he had bit off more than he should have. That was the way the world worked. You live and die by your ideals.

But he wasn’t in Japan for his ideals. This wasn’t his country. These weren’t his people to save. Not at the cost of his brother. He’d be lying if he weren’t annoyed by the deconstruction of the metaphor. He’d also be lying if he weren’t interested in what they were trying to do. What was their goal? What were they trying to accomplish? What did they really want?

“I’ve had a change of heart,” Antoine said. “You can have as much time with him as you want. But I’m interested in seeing where you go from here.” If one thing were true, he was compromising their mission with his presence alone. The man thought himself dead. What work could they do with him there? 5 minutes? 5 hours? None of it made a difference until he was gone.

“Three days.” He continues. “We come back to the area and you catch me up to speed. I’ll shadow you from then on. I want to see how you handle things in this country. I want to see why you’re here of all places.”

“If that works for you, I’ll be on my way,” Antoine steps away, back turned. “Name’s Ghouligan.”

---

Jackie Maradona

[Jackie Maradona]

[attr="class","susurrus"]

[attr="class","jikan"] [attr="class","hiraeth"]私は世界を変えたい

[attr="class","achee"] [attr="class","castleonthehill"] ❝ The digital mask, having up till now remained on its crossed eyes and crooked smile, lit up a line above one of the eyes, and with it, raised it into a curved hook. She looked upon Ghouligan with this lopsided expression, matching it with a sound bordering on a laugh; not quite one, but as her chest puffed with air for a moment, she placed her hand on where her mouth should be. "Ju't like that?" she mused. Both Pundits stared, one — the black one — leaving its mouth agape while the other's eyes broadened like saucers with cherries at their centers. They outright halted their paths, instead fixating themselves on the opposite vigilante. "Shou mu't suck at bu'iness deals, especially at haggling. Or, well," she'd rest her chin against her fist turned upwards, "without 'caring whoe'er else' on the other side." "3 days till we meet again, ey?" The alabaster creature chimed up, shaking itself free from its stare. "Hate to come back to this stuffy place, but a deal's a deal, I s'pose. Better this than another alley, I guess." The other creature laughed at its contemporary's remark. "Seriou'ly, so many alleys. Way too many alleys — swear, this city, this country, got way more than it needs. Useful to us, but bizarre." The two monsters floated back to their creator, clearing the path to the exit as Ghouligan so sought. At the very least, they remained out of his path. "Mu't not 'ave anything going on if shou're so inte'e'ted in me." At the two Pundits circled about to her sides, Grinta tucked her hands away beneath her cloak's sleeping form. "But I'll bite, Ghoul." It flowed better from her tongue better than "Ghoulian" did. She figured it to, anyway, whether or not she tried it aloud. "I don't promi'e to let shou shadow me from then on, but I can agree to mee' again." Grinta cooly pointed up to the ceiling. "I'd prefer to mee' on the roof then, 'owever. It' much nicer than this pla'e, e'en befo'e the mess of glass." She tilted her head at her entrance points, including, with it, the glass glittering over the carpet. "Not a 'igh bar, mind shou, but shou get my meaning." "If shou're worth the trouble then, though, I'll give shou a name. I can't say if it'll be one of mine, but it'll be one worth something." ✉ tag -- Ghouligan ✎ 399 words ※ Not a name, but a date and time — until then~

[attr="class","ache"]

MADE BY MIZO

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[Ghouligan]

They weren’t wrong.

Antoine had already given up his right to kill for meager earnings. He was under the false impression that he’d be leaving within the week — a delusion that he still held close to his chest. For now, he thought it more important to satiate his curiosities, whether it came from a slick-talking businessman or a stranger who shared his tongue. There were lessons to be learned, things he could take back to the Caribbean. A new perspective was valuable and could lead him down one of two paths.

He might find himself in awe of never-considered possibilities or reaffirm his preexisting, foundational beliefs. Japan was more interesting than he’d had given it credit for. And even if it weren’t for the prospect of meeting his brother, he was grateful to have visited. Not that he’d ever come back to the island.

His homeland was more than enough.

“The roof it is.” Antoine took his leave and disappeared into the wide, spacious halls. “Goodbye, Tanjiro Yamamoto”

---

Jackie Maradona

[Jinx]

☆ MISSION SUCCESS ☆

When two vigilantes argue, there's three opinions!

Great thread you two!

+ 5,000 EXP!!

Ghouligan - 17,500 // 22,500
Jackie - 250 // 5,250

tag: Ghouligan Jackie Maradona