Rock, Pirate, Ninja

Chapter One

Rock, Pirate, Ninja

By: R.A. Hobbs

Copyright © 2013 R.A. Hobbs

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the author. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1

Mitsuru was bored listening to Clan Leader Goemon’s self-righteous drivel.  It would be easy to shove in the iPod ear buds and press play, but the way Goemon’s security guards stood and stared at him with such utter contempt, it would most likely invite a challenge.  It would be a challenge Mitsuru would win of course, but he was feeling lazy today.  Besides, he could sense that Goemon was finally winding down his speech and getting to the point.

“You know why you’re here?” Goemon asked.

“I suppose.”

Goemon laughed, “Aren’t you such a petulant little teenager.”

“Perhaps that’s your attraction.”

Goemon barely controlled his flinch.  That almost got him, Mitsuru smirked.

One of his burly guards moved closer a few inches.  “Call off your dogs.”

Goemon clenched his jaws, staring him down.

Mitsuru pointed with his chin towards the mountain of muscle that was bearing down on him.  “He’s getting into my personal space, and you know much I hate when people try to move into my bubble.”

Goemon clucked at the guard, waving him back like an irritated mother hen.  “Stop playing around.  We have business to discuss.”

A tall, bald-headed, Russian, who was sitting across from Mitsuru sighed, “Yes, please. We need this taken care of as quickly as possible.”

 “We are all aware of that,” Goemon said, “but we agreed White Viper would take the lead for this operation.”

The Russian nodded, his lips thinned in frustration.

“I suppose I should introduce our guest to you.  This, my dear Vladimir, is Mitsuru, our finest operative.”

Vladimir gave Goemon a doubtful look.

Goemon laughed. “You don’t believe me?” 

“I don’t think your bald friend likes me,” Mitsuru pouted.

Vladimir ignored Mitsuru, addressing only Goemon, “I have my doubts.  Your operative seems a little . . . preoccupied.”

Mitsuru snorted loudly.  What an arrogant ass, he thought.  It was amazing to him how he had managed to survive this long in the business they were in.

“I assure you, Mr. Rogov, unorthodox or not, Mitsuru is not only the most successful operative we’ve ever had, but also the most successful in the long history of our clan.”

Vladimir Rogov smirked, barely glancing at Mitsuru before quickly downing a shot of vodka and slamming it down on the table.  He stood from his seat and gave a curt bow to Goemon, “We’ll keep in touch.”

Mitsuru leered at him, “I’m sure we will.”

Vladimir, barely able to control his distaste, turned on his heel and left the room, letting the door close loudly as he left.