Post by Nyeo Son on Jun 8, 2019 14:39:39 GMT -5
NeuroDancer actually was a very fun club. Nyeo didn’t think he should make a habit of taking party advice from strange men on twitter, but this time it had worked out. Besides; why shouldn’t he get to enjoy himself, he had been working hard for over a year now. The family business didn’t allow for much free time. His pet project had had to take the back seat to deal with a recent power struggle in the H.S.S mob, and most of his usual crew was still back in Korea, helping clean up.
The only person who he had managed to bring along was his assistant, Kim Namjoon. Namjoon was invaluable as both a friend and accomplice, partially because Nyeo was pretty sure the man was a genius. His genius status was probably why Namjoon had understood whatever pun was hidden in the name, however…
Nyeo: Just explain the fucking joke, Joonie!
His words weren’t slurred, Nyeo worked had to make sure he was presentable even when “pickled”, but he was speaking at about half the speed he did sober…
Namjoon: Explaining a joke is like-
Nyeo interrupts the shorter man with the wave of a hand.
Nyeo: -Like dissecting a frog, I know. But you’ve done worse things than dissect frogs for me!
Namjoon: I really don’t think you understand that simile...
Nyeo: I don’t have to, I let you understand things for me, so explain.
Namjoon: No, I refuse; I use my veto!
Nyeo stopped, sighing and rubbing the bridge of his nose.
Nyeo: Your veto rights are supposed to be used against immoral or dangerous orders…
Namjoon: Letting you get away with not reading is both!
The two stayed quiet for a long time, a silent staring contest that only ends when Namjoon wiggled his eyebrows, with both men cracking up.
Nyeo: …you’re a fucking idiot.
Namjoon: Yah, that’s rude! Buy me a drink to make it up to me.
Nyeo: You’re damn lucky we’re alone and I don’t have to make an example of you.
Namjoon: Yeah yeah, drink, chop chop.
Nyeo: Another William Gibson?
Namjoon chuckles again at the punny name as he nods, earning a murderous glare from his boss.
Nyeo moved with practiced ease through the thrum and throb of the nightclub, his hips moving ever so slightly in time with the music as he navigates the dancefloor, deftly dodging getting his feet stepped on. His lack of notoriety in this area bothered him, the last year of consolidating his father and uncles holdings in Suwon, Busan, and Seoul has made him accustomed to a certain amount of bowing and scraping from anyone he meets.
It was even worse once he got to the bar; the two bartenders were both busy and the counter was crowded. Nyeo spent about 2 minutes trying to patiently wait for an opening but realized it was futile when he saw more and more people elbow past.
Nyeo: Such an uncivilized culture…
He didn’t exactly elbow past, but he did lightly push here, tug there and suddenly he was face to face with a short, female bartender.
Bartender: What’ll it be, Sweetcheeks!
Nyeo bristled for a moment, trying to figure out why on Earth this woman would demean him so… then he stops, realizing that to her he’s just an attractive man in a glittery, red coat. He manages a smile back, deciding to take advantage of this limited anonymity.
Nyeo: Two William Gibsons, please.
Bartender: Two Gibsons!?
Right, obviously, the music is much louder here. Nyeo chose to just nod since apparently, she had managed to hear his words over the noise. The woman stirred together the drinks, efficiently making both at once and pouring into separate glasses. They seemed to be classic Gibsons floated on a small layer of blue Curaçao, which paired quite well with the other elements, though not the onion garnish. Nevertheless, Nyeo thanked the bartender and tipped her generously; he hasn’t quite decided if he was going to buy this club, but if he did, she was definitely keeping her job.
He made his way back his friend and accomplice, taking care to not spill any of his newly acquired drinks, before sinking back into the booths comfortable seating, sipping with a satisfied sigh.
Namjoon: So, Nyeo-hyung…
Namjoons apprehensive voice breaks him out of his relaxation.
Nyeo: Oh just spit it out, Joonie!
Namjoon: You really are doing the whole...
He gestured with his hand in a noncommittal gesture.
Namjoon: ...poreseu thing?
The significantly more snappily dressed man sighed.
Nyeo: Seriously, we’re doing this debate again?
Namjoon: I’m just saying! There is shit to do, you want to build your own empire in America, don’t you?
Nyeo rubbed the bridge of his nose with a white-gloved hand.
Nyeo: You know I don’t answer to a lot of people, and I only just got done justifying this to the Mob leaders, so I’ll explain this exactly once.
Namjoon: But-
Nyeo: Once! I want zero backtalk, understood?
Namjoon grimaced slightly, taking a slow gulp of his drink before nodding.
Namjoon: Understood, Hyung.
Nyeo dropped his serious face, and offers a small smile, trying to make sure their dynamic doesn’t suffer from him pulling rank on his friend.
Nyeo: The classic way of building notoriety is outdated, and America is too prosperous of a country for a simple crime empire to work. If I want power, REAL power, I need a fanbase, I need to make myself an icon, keep the crimes in the dark, make them a part of the brand but impossible to connect to me. H.S.S money will help, but it’s not enough if I want my name out there; I need a starting point, and a company where I can show off my martial prowess for millions to see is the perfect place for it. Understood?
Namjoon responded by biting a bit at his lip, seeing the determination in his elders face, before nodding, having made up his mind.
Namjoon: Understood, Hyung; I will do my very best to help you with your plan, when is the first match?
Both men lean forward, going into their planning mode.
Nyeo: This Monday night, facing a Japanese woman named Tsukiko, an up-and-comer-
Namjoon waved his hands in front of his face, interrupting the other.
Namjoon: Wait-wait-wait, a woman?
Nyeo: Uh-huh, America is embracing equality, recently.
Namjoon: huh… Well alright then, she a threat?
Nyeo managed to nod and shrugs at the same time.
Nyeo: Well, she’s athletic enough to be one, and she doesn’t pull her strikes, but she’s big into the whole… Warrior Spirit thing. She wants her matches to be these epic bouts that test both skills and determination, one side beating the other with honor and righteousness and zeal and honor and blah blah blah…
Nyeo lets his voice trail off, rolling his eyes and looking bored.
Namjoon: Well… the effort is admirable, right?
Nyeo: Yeah, sure; I like the martial arts feel of it, but she’s in the wrong sport. Wrestling is a place where hitting your opponent with a baseball bat is okay as long as the official doesn’t see it happen, it’s not the right place for an honorable duel.
Namjoon: So… you’re saying that you are planning on gaining a fanbase by beating a woman with a baseball bat?
Nyeo: Hey, if it’s engaging content to the crowd, who am I to argue?
Namjoon: But that’s the general plan? Break the rules to win?
Nyeo: Well, some rules, at least whatever rules of honor she uses, go for the knees, yank her fingers, all that.
Namjoon: Not really your usual style, is it?
Nyeo: No, but I need it to be the most talked about match, and I can’t be sure we’ll end up doing that with just our combined striking ability, so brutality it is.
Namjoon: I understand…
The two look at each other for a short time, before Nyeo stands up abruptly.
Nyeo: I don’t like it any more than you do, Joonie, but it has to be done; meet me at my new apartment at thirteen hundred tomorrow.
Namjoon stands up as well, bowing to Nyeo as he leaves before sitting back down, ordering another drink.
Nyeo Sons profile, Snapchat
The poor quality phone camera shows an all-white room with a burgundy armchair, behind it stands Nyeo, in his trademark red coat and white gloves.
“Tsukiyo… Tsu-ki-yo… Tsukiko?”
He meanders slowly around before falling bodily into the chair.
“I was never any good with Japanese, and honestly; I feel a slight bit insulted that you’re my first opponent.”
A few chuckles can be heard from behind the camera, but Nyeo holds up his hands, both for silence and in a placating gesture.
“Don’t get me wrong, you’re a young woman of great renown. I’ve looked into your old New Blood matches and I am just a tiny bit miffed that I didn’t get to face you there, so I’m looking forward to our fight. It’s just I feel we’ve been typecast: Asian striker versus Asian striker; without the company really understanding us as individuals.”
Nyeo holds up both his hands as if holding figures of himself and Tsukiko in them; with himself in the left and the woman in right.
“On one hand we have your own, stunning self: rising star of the Japanese indie scene, honorable warrior and amazing athlete…”
“On the other, there is me: Son of Son Hwan of the H.S.S, pragmatic… ‘businessman’-”
Nyeo smirks at his own choice of words.
“-and equally pragmatic fighter.”
He looks back and forth between his two upturned palms.
“There really isn’t much similar about us, I mean what do they expect to happen? You, lovable little you, are going to try to make this a fair fight; but I’m just not going to let that happen. The crowd will be witness to a practiced predator circle noble, but ultimately doomed prey. I’ll take out your legs to keep you from flying, snap your fingers to keep you from striking. Then when, and only when, the bloodthirsty crowd is begging for it to be over, I’ll strike you down, and serve your still carcass to them, sating them to fuel their admiration for me.”
Nyeo stops his monologue, looking up from his hands to smile at the camera.
“Or maybe they know exactly what they’re doing because thinking about it, I’m sure that tragedy will be a certain draw.”
Namjoon: And cut!
Nyeo lets his smile drop as the phone camera comes off his face, looking away with a troubled face as his partner in quite-literal-crime walks up
Namjoon: It was a good speech, hyung…
Nyeo: Yeah; it was, at that...
The only person who he had managed to bring along was his assistant, Kim Namjoon. Namjoon was invaluable as both a friend and accomplice, partially because Nyeo was pretty sure the man was a genius. His genius status was probably why Namjoon had understood whatever pun was hidden in the name, however…
Nyeo: Just explain the fucking joke, Joonie!
His words weren’t slurred, Nyeo worked had to make sure he was presentable even when “pickled”, but he was speaking at about half the speed he did sober…
Namjoon: Explaining a joke is like-
Nyeo interrupts the shorter man with the wave of a hand.
Nyeo: -Like dissecting a frog, I know. But you’ve done worse things than dissect frogs for me!
Namjoon: I really don’t think you understand that simile...
Nyeo: I don’t have to, I let you understand things for me, so explain.
Namjoon: No, I refuse; I use my veto!
Nyeo stopped, sighing and rubbing the bridge of his nose.
Nyeo: Your veto rights are supposed to be used against immoral or dangerous orders…
Namjoon: Letting you get away with not reading is both!
The two stayed quiet for a long time, a silent staring contest that only ends when Namjoon wiggled his eyebrows, with both men cracking up.
Nyeo: …you’re a fucking idiot.
Namjoon: Yah, that’s rude! Buy me a drink to make it up to me.
Nyeo: You’re damn lucky we’re alone and I don’t have to make an example of you.
Namjoon: Yeah yeah, drink, chop chop.
Nyeo: Another William Gibson?
Namjoon chuckles again at the punny name as he nods, earning a murderous glare from his boss.
Nyeo moved with practiced ease through the thrum and throb of the nightclub, his hips moving ever so slightly in time with the music as he navigates the dancefloor, deftly dodging getting his feet stepped on. His lack of notoriety in this area bothered him, the last year of consolidating his father and uncles holdings in Suwon, Busan, and Seoul has made him accustomed to a certain amount of bowing and scraping from anyone he meets.
It was even worse once he got to the bar; the two bartenders were both busy and the counter was crowded. Nyeo spent about 2 minutes trying to patiently wait for an opening but realized it was futile when he saw more and more people elbow past.
Nyeo: Such an uncivilized culture…
He didn’t exactly elbow past, but he did lightly push here, tug there and suddenly he was face to face with a short, female bartender.
Bartender: What’ll it be, Sweetcheeks!
Nyeo bristled for a moment, trying to figure out why on Earth this woman would demean him so… then he stops, realizing that to her he’s just an attractive man in a glittery, red coat. He manages a smile back, deciding to take advantage of this limited anonymity.
Nyeo: Two William Gibsons, please.
Bartender: Two Gibsons!?
Right, obviously, the music is much louder here. Nyeo chose to just nod since apparently, she had managed to hear his words over the noise. The woman stirred together the drinks, efficiently making both at once and pouring into separate glasses. They seemed to be classic Gibsons floated on a small layer of blue Curaçao, which paired quite well with the other elements, though not the onion garnish. Nevertheless, Nyeo thanked the bartender and tipped her generously; he hasn’t quite decided if he was going to buy this club, but if he did, she was definitely keeping her job.
He made his way back his friend and accomplice, taking care to not spill any of his newly acquired drinks, before sinking back into the booths comfortable seating, sipping with a satisfied sigh.
Namjoon: So, Nyeo-hyung…
Namjoons apprehensive voice breaks him out of his relaxation.
Nyeo: Oh just spit it out, Joonie!
Namjoon: You really are doing the whole...
He gestured with his hand in a noncommittal gesture.
Namjoon: ...poreseu thing?
The significantly more snappily dressed man sighed.
Nyeo: Seriously, we’re doing this debate again?
Namjoon: I’m just saying! There is shit to do, you want to build your own empire in America, don’t you?
Nyeo rubbed the bridge of his nose with a white-gloved hand.
Nyeo: You know I don’t answer to a lot of people, and I only just got done justifying this to the Mob leaders, so I’ll explain this exactly once.
Namjoon: But-
Nyeo: Once! I want zero backtalk, understood?
Namjoon grimaced slightly, taking a slow gulp of his drink before nodding.
Namjoon: Understood, Hyung.
Nyeo dropped his serious face, and offers a small smile, trying to make sure their dynamic doesn’t suffer from him pulling rank on his friend.
Nyeo: The classic way of building notoriety is outdated, and America is too prosperous of a country for a simple crime empire to work. If I want power, REAL power, I need a fanbase, I need to make myself an icon, keep the crimes in the dark, make them a part of the brand but impossible to connect to me. H.S.S money will help, but it’s not enough if I want my name out there; I need a starting point, and a company where I can show off my martial prowess for millions to see is the perfect place for it. Understood?
Namjoon responded by biting a bit at his lip, seeing the determination in his elders face, before nodding, having made up his mind.
Namjoon: Understood, Hyung; I will do my very best to help you with your plan, when is the first match?
Both men lean forward, going into their planning mode.
Nyeo: This Monday night, facing a Japanese woman named Tsukiko, an up-and-comer-
Namjoon waved his hands in front of his face, interrupting the other.
Namjoon: Wait-wait-wait, a woman?
Nyeo: Uh-huh, America is embracing equality, recently.
Namjoon: huh… Well alright then, she a threat?
Nyeo managed to nod and shrugs at the same time.
Nyeo: Well, she’s athletic enough to be one, and she doesn’t pull her strikes, but she’s big into the whole… Warrior Spirit thing. She wants her matches to be these epic bouts that test both skills and determination, one side beating the other with honor and righteousness and zeal and honor and blah blah blah…
Nyeo lets his voice trail off, rolling his eyes and looking bored.
Namjoon: Well… the effort is admirable, right?
Nyeo: Yeah, sure; I like the martial arts feel of it, but she’s in the wrong sport. Wrestling is a place where hitting your opponent with a baseball bat is okay as long as the official doesn’t see it happen, it’s not the right place for an honorable duel.
Namjoon: So… you’re saying that you are planning on gaining a fanbase by beating a woman with a baseball bat?
Nyeo: Hey, if it’s engaging content to the crowd, who am I to argue?
Namjoon: But that’s the general plan? Break the rules to win?
Nyeo: Well, some rules, at least whatever rules of honor she uses, go for the knees, yank her fingers, all that.
Namjoon: Not really your usual style, is it?
Nyeo: No, but I need it to be the most talked about match, and I can’t be sure we’ll end up doing that with just our combined striking ability, so brutality it is.
Namjoon: I understand…
The two look at each other for a short time, before Nyeo stands up abruptly.
Nyeo: I don’t like it any more than you do, Joonie, but it has to be done; meet me at my new apartment at thirteen hundred tomorrow.
Namjoon stands up as well, bowing to Nyeo as he leaves before sitting back down, ordering another drink.
Namjoon: ...and make this one stronger.
Nyeo Sons profile, Snapchat
The poor quality phone camera shows an all-white room with a burgundy armchair, behind it stands Nyeo, in his trademark red coat and white gloves.
“Tsukiyo… Tsu-ki-yo… Tsukiko?”
He meanders slowly around before falling bodily into the chair.
“I was never any good with Japanese, and honestly; I feel a slight bit insulted that you’re my first opponent.”
A few chuckles can be heard from behind the camera, but Nyeo holds up his hands, both for silence and in a placating gesture.
“Don’t get me wrong, you’re a young woman of great renown. I’ve looked into your old New Blood matches and I am just a tiny bit miffed that I didn’t get to face you there, so I’m looking forward to our fight. It’s just I feel we’ve been typecast: Asian striker versus Asian striker; without the company really understanding us as individuals.”
Nyeo holds up both his hands as if holding figures of himself and Tsukiko in them; with himself in the left and the woman in right.
“On one hand we have your own, stunning self: rising star of the Japanese indie scene, honorable warrior and amazing athlete…”
“On the other, there is me: Son of Son Hwan of the H.S.S, pragmatic… ‘businessman’-”
Nyeo smirks at his own choice of words.
“-and equally pragmatic fighter.”
He looks back and forth between his two upturned palms.
“There really isn’t much similar about us, I mean what do they expect to happen? You, lovable little you, are going to try to make this a fair fight; but I’m just not going to let that happen. The crowd will be witness to a practiced predator circle noble, but ultimately doomed prey. I’ll take out your legs to keep you from flying, snap your fingers to keep you from striking. Then when, and only when, the bloodthirsty crowd is begging for it to be over, I’ll strike you down, and serve your still carcass to them, sating them to fuel their admiration for me.”
Nyeo stops his monologue, looking up from his hands to smile at the camera.
“Or maybe they know exactly what they’re doing because thinking about it, I’m sure that tragedy will be a certain draw.”
The video feed cuts out.
Namjoon: And cut!
Nyeo lets his smile drop as the phone camera comes off his face, looking away with a troubled face as his partner in quite-literal-crime walks up
Namjoon: It was a good speech, hyung…
Nyeo: Yeah; it was, at that...
