For years, since that fateful day in 1998 when the earth under Tokyo split and strange things were let loose into our world. Most that arrived were peaceful, and just wanted to live their lives like the humans who now lived besides them. But like all intelligent beings, not everyone was good, and some spirits, the ones we call Demons, were after power. And with the coming of dangerous, violent and manipulative demons, there had to be a coming of equally dangerous, violent and manipulative people to take them on. However, this was a new threat, no one knew how to fight them, and there was little to no regulation. The police were largely ineffective, and as the demons spread across the world, many people took it upon themselves to protect themselves and their own neighborhoods, towns and communities. And with this, a business formed. The Hunters Guilds, collectives of people who trained as the mercenary's that fought and killed demons, popped up in almost every major city the world over. And bigger cities often would have five or more. They developed their own subculture, one that was obsessed with cars, punk rock, rap, and ancient swords of myth. Every Hunter dreamed of managing to acquire a legendary, mythological sword. Especially after it was revealed that a hunter in London had actually managed to acquire Excalibur.
But, not all were equal. Some cities were cleaner than others, and as a result there was less need to Hunters there. Most would travel as needed, until they found a Guild where their help would actually be needed. Where jobs were plentiful, and were that money flowed like water. It was cities like L.A., New York, London, Johannesburg, Rio De Janeiro and Beijing where the largest Hunters Guilds formed. But no city was ever able to top Tokyo. The place where the spirits first emerged into the world, was widely regarded as the Hunters Mecca. It was the place where people and spirits lived in both the most harmonious situation, and also the most conflicted one. Demons ran rampant, and it became the place where Hunters from all over the world congregated, dreaming of being the next on on the news for defeating a powerful demon. It changed from a city of technological innovation and neon to a city of surrealism and bizarre occurrences. And for a city that was already considered just a little strange, the spirits only amplified it.
So now you, the young brave Hunters, come to this city from afar. All across the world, or possibly from right here in Tokyo, you and your peers come to this Mecca to cut your teeth and prove yourselves. There are guilds all across the city to choose from, but how can you make your name known in a well established Guild with hundreds of Hunters? Together with the others players, you will form a small, independent Guild, and work to carve out your place in the often hectic, surreal and dangerous world of Hunters. Be a you a seasoned veteran, doing this since 1998, or a young kid determined to get the respect and honor you know you are deserving of. But no matter what, in this little Guild you will build, there is something else going on in the sewers beneath Tokyo, something that the bigger guilds don't want to acknowledge. Something that only you and your new peers will have to fight, and will have to fight alone.
*****
It was raining in Tokyo on Saturday, December 29th, and it was cold. As was to be expected. Two young men walked down the street, kicking up the last little piddly bits of snow from that Friday, what little one gets in Tokyo. One of the men, the taller american one, had been disappointed by how little snow Tokyo got when he got there the year before. Having spent his whole life in Southern Florida, in his mind everything north of Georgia's latitude was supposed to get buckets of snow, but when he had gotten excited about the first snowfall that year he was soon shut down by his friend, who explained that it rarely stayed around in Tokyo.
Some people glanced at them as they walked, making a little path through the sidewalk. The shorter of the two, the Japanese one, inhaled deeply on his cigarette, his hat pulled low over his eyes. He rested his left hand on two swords stuck into his belt, shifting them slightly so that the scabbards would stop digging into his hips. His friend, the american one, looked over, his hands resting on his own sword. He thumbed the stickers that adorned its scabbard, feeling out the long rectangle of the big SUPREME sticker her had slapped onto its side. He actually hated that sticker, feeling like he was kind of a show off for putting it on and waving it around like he thought he was hot shit. People would compliment him on it from time to time, but he always contradicted them, saying the sticker was stupid and he was trying to find new ones to cover it up. "Hakaku," he said, shifting the ropes that dug into his neck and shoulders, the two heads hanging off of it bouncing on his leg and splattering blood all over his ankles.
"Yeah?" said his friend Hakaku, the short Japanese kid.
"Where the hell are we? We never come around here. This place seems kind of sketch." He spoke in a thick American accent, his Japanese a little stunted but still passable. It was clear he was not a native speaker, even beyond him being the only tall black guy for miles around, but he still spoke it well enough that he could pull it off if need be.
"Yeah, I'm not hot on this place either," said Hakaku. "Whoever this guy is who we were supposed to meet, Im not sure why they wanted to meet us here, instead of just on a street corner of some shit like everywhere else."
Marcus, the american, spat and watched as the spit sank into a grey snow drift. Now that he knew what to expect from a Tokyo winter, he wished the snow would just go away. It was ugly, and didn't fit right. The pair continued onward's, making their way deeper into the neon soaked street where their most recent employers instructions had lead them. A car drove past them once, three men and a woman inside, all of them with swords and clubs of their own. "Hey, independents, what the fuck are you doing around here?" said one, leaning out of the car window.
"Just doing a job," said Hakaku, "not that it matters to you, Guildsman."
"It sure as shit does matter to me," said the the guy in the car. His friend in the passenger seat shuffled around, pulling his sword up closer to his chest. Marcus put the demon heads down on the ground, standing by his friend.
"Hey," said the guy in the car. "Looks like your friend is gonna say something. What you got to say to me, foreigner? You dont know shit about Hunting unless your from Tokyo. What are you doing here, got back to America."
"You hop out of that car and you better be ready to fucking die," said Marcus. "I ain't got no beef with you, but as soon as your hand touches that sword and we will."
"Whatever," said the guy in the car. "I don't need to punk ass little bitch like you, or your wannabe friend there talking shit. Im outta here." He hit the gas again, his car's straight pipe rattling and echoing off the tight buildings. Hakaku stepped out into the road, yelling obscenities at them, and pitched an emty beer bottle at their retreating car.
"Yeah, that's fucking right," he said. "Get on out of here. You come back, and Ill cut you in half, samurai style motherfucker. Its gonna be like a fucking movie it'll be so gory!"
Marcus picked up the heads and waited for his friend, and the two set off down the street again. Near the end there was a sign pointing downwards into a basement, flickering slightly. It was getting late, and Marcus wanted to get this all over with. "Motherfucker," he whispered, him and Hakaku standing at the top of the stairs and looking down with apprehension.
"Alright," said Hakaku. "Give me the heads, and Ill talk to the guy. I'm pretty sure its the bartender who gave this job. You stay out front and watch for anyone else coming in. It doesn't seem like we're to popular around these parts, and I don't want any other Hunters getting some bright ideas."
"Hey, you don't think I can talk to this guy?" said Marcus.
"No, I'm sure you can, its just that your Japanese doesn't exactly sound amazing, so It will make a better impression if I do it."
Marcus didn't immediately move, but he eventually handed over the two Demon heads, and followed Hakaku down into the basement. The bar was dingy and practically empty, save for a man on the other end of the bar who looked more like a pile of rags than a human. Hakaku approached the bartender, while Marcus sat on a stool at the bar. He watched as Hakaku and the Bartender made their way into the back, before looking around the bar suspiciously. There were two men in too nice suits for this establishment in a booth, and they both looked back at Marcus with hard eyes. Marcus sniffed again, and nodded, before turning back to the bar. He ordered a beer from a woman who came out to stand in for the first bartender, and listened intently.
