banjoanjo

【 Spy High 】

YUTO SHITANAGA - Red Dragon Macau
Monday, 10/7/2021 - 5:00 pm

---

Being a Promenade agent meant that Yuto faced a test of will nearly every day, and even though he was exempt from the training exercise, today was included. As he watched the camera feeds beside the Director, he felt his cheeks begin to strain. The corners of his mouth twitched uncontrollably, inching wider as Beatrix’s confrontation went on. The look on Static’s face as he was subject to her whims, it was just so… so pathetic!

A quick snort left his mouth before he smothered it with a cough.

God, she sure knew how to press people’s buttons. Even if he’d never admit it to her face, it was… amusing. When he wasn’t on the receiving end.

By the time the agents all returned for debriefing, he was back to his stone-faced self. He nodded a goodbye to the Director before making a quick retreat to his car. Alone once more.

---

It took a few deep breaths to acquaint himself to the new location. He habitually adjusted his attire, grey checkered pants with a matching vest over a crisp shirt, then got to work. First course of action, secure routes to his requested escape vehicles: the R1M, the car, and the backup car. Make sure the valet service wouldn’t be in his way. He was in the middle of checking his watch for the locations when Static started talking. Saying something about couples.

Yuto, currently socialite Akira Shinmei, regarded him with a flat glare.

As… absurd as the suggestion was, it brought another concern to mind. Yuto was properly operating in the field this time. No more just waiting around in the car, he had to, urgh, participate. If he didn’t pull his weight around for this mission…

He coughed, trying to clear the anxious lump in his throat.

“Ideally, you’d all be proficient in Mandarin but…” He supposed it would be too much to make a spy agency enforce its agents to learn the second most spoken language in the world. Yuto clicked his tongue and kept it to himself. “It should be no matter. Macau is hardly a monolingual state and the casino staff are almost certain to all be proficient in English. Still, if you need to convey something in Mandarin without whispering into your smartwatch like a loon, I… suppose you should come to me or Babel. Otherwise, stay on task. Let’s limit the distractions this time.”

His glare shifted to Kingfisher at that.

“Once I’m done with the vehicles, I will be looking around the dining area. Bug, if you could find your way into the restaurants' reservations and cameras, we may be able to find some big names.”

Second course of action was to investigate the five-star restaurants the casino boasted. After all, dinner meetings – and drinking – were the cornerstone of Asian business.

Paramount

James Xiao

_{(FC: Gaku Oshida, Dialogue Color: #f7976a)}
____________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________

F O R T H E R E C O R D

| | N I C K N A M E (S) | |

• Jam, as his parents, relatives and… old friends would call him.

| | A G E | |

17 (July 16)

| | G E N D E R | |

Male (He/They)

| | S E X U A L I T Y | |

Demisexual

| | R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S | |

Recently single.

| | C L A S S I F I C A T I O N | |

Senior

____________________________________________________________

A T F I R S T G L A N C E

| | I N D E P T H A P P E A R A N C E | |

James doesn’t seem very well put together. Every morning he arrives with a bedhead that only worsens throughout the day, especially in Chemistry class with the confused head-scratches it generates. His tie is always crooked, if not entirely forgotten. His blazer hasn’t been sighted in months, the boy opting instead for his school sweater when he gets cold. The uniform’s signature colors are made quite unfortunate by the patches of white dust that can always be seen staining his clothes. His hands and face are not exempt from plaster residue either, and it often takes a scolding from a teacher for him to remember to wash it off.

James himself is more noticeable than he’d like to be. Though his eyes and hair are both a natural black, he has thick expressive eyebrows that balance all his features, including the fractured nose that has since been set in place. There still remains a pale scar however, and the angle of his nose is ever so slightly off. Numbers of small scars – and subsequent bandaids – litter the pads of his fingers, all gained from his wire working. The ones on his knuckles had faded years prior. James stands at a wiry 5’ 10” but over the years at Marble Heights his posture seems to be shrinking in, as if he’s consciously trying to make himself smaller.

His casual attire indicates a modest, urban upbringing. Sneakers, sweatpants and a large plain tee is his go-to. He generally prefers looser clothing, or anything that won’t be beyond saving when they inevitably get stained by his art process.

| | R E P U T A T I O N | |

Within a few seconds of talking with him, anyone would be able to tell that this guy doesn’t really… fit. Not at an academy for the offspring of upper-class society anyway. James is too rough around the edges. A little too loud. Too blunt, too honest, almost to a point of ineptitude. It’d be hard for most to believe that he was once one of the kings of the soccer field. The audience at his games would be hard-pressed to not notice the tight unit he’d formed with the captain and center forward. An unstoppable trio, despite all the yellow cards only he seemed to get. This, along with the art awards he’d net for the school, granted him quite the reputation. There was a time when he sat happily at the top of the food chain.

These days he’s just the guy that ‘stole’ the captain’s girlfriend.

____________________________________________________________

O F F T H E R E C O R D

| | H I S T O R Y | |

James was born and raised in San Francisco by immigrant parents determined to thrust the American Dream upon their children. Whatever their children needed for success; they were willing to spend above their pay grade for it. Piano and violin lessons, tutors, weekend sports. The Xiao brothers were decently occupied, but were they engaged by these extracurricular whims? Not exactly. They would rather spend their afternoons practicing kung fu moves on each other.

The word James would have used for him and his brother was ‘unsuited’. Their parents and relatives would use something closer to ‘ungrateful’. Even from the age of seven and eight, their lack of interest in academics was clear, and it would lead to an increasingly tense home atmosphere for the decade to come. Among the last attempts at hooking the boys on an Ivy League approved extracurricular, James found something that enraptured him: a community hall pottery class. Although the pottery wheel held little interest to him, it was the act of shaping wire and clay that really took hold. He first made a crocodile with his small, eager hands. Then a dog. Then a Bruce Lee doing a flying kick.

The materials were readily available enough for him to purchase for practice at home, even if he was limited to only small figures. As soon as he returned home from school he’d rush to his shared room and open his supplies. He’d spend hours at the home computer following tutorials but, in the end, always experiment on his own. The thing about creativity is that it’s only limited by skill, and even then, James would overcome that barrier at a prodigious rate. His work was paying off. His community class teacher would lend him books for extra study. His parents noticed his skill, and things at home were becoming bearable. School was an entirely different matter.

While James had finally found a passion to occupy his time, the younger Cameron Xiao was not so fortunate. Where James would sit with a grimace and take the brunt of their parents’ former disapproval, Cameron would reject it completely, often storming out of the flat to parts unknown. This behavior manifested in the latter half of middle school, and his disobedience would only escalate to fights with his classmates. But James, an ever-loyal brother, would come to back him up every time. It wouldn’t last, as James would have to take his freshman year of high school alone, but the Xiao brothers gained a reputation among the inner-city schools.

James’ freshman year was interesting to say the least. The ones who knew of the brothers’ escapades assumed he would be as much of a delinquent as Cameron, but they would soon find out for themselves. Getting into fights and only winning half of them didn’t make him a delinquent, it made him a dumb musclehead with an even dumber mouth.

Besides the strange fights he would get into, freshman year was an enlightening experience. More and more of his out-of-school time was being spent getting Cameron out of trouble. His disinterest in his studies was growing too. As he sat in lamplight, working on his sculptures, James wondered if the rest of his time on Earth was going to be like this; a growing listlessness towards the duties of his daily life while his passions would sit on his desk with no one but his family to view them. His salvation once again came from community class teacher.

She suggested some youth art contests for him to enter, as well as a scholarship program for some bougie school outside of his district. He placed high in the former but more importantly, he won the latter. He wasn’t sure about the school itself but it felt really, crazily good to have his art recognized by San Francisco’s elites. He accepted the scholarship offer, a decision that Cameron would hold against him to this day. Transferring for sophomore year may be a challenge but James was willing to put in the work. He’d leave his fights behind, work on his grades and most importantly, continue his sculpting work in a supportive environment. His school life was going to change for the better.

Indeed it did, for the most part. But he’s starting to notice a lot of bumps in the road ahead.

| | B E Y O N D M Y R E P U T A T I O N | |

James sits outside of the hierarchy. He’s too loud for an art geek. Doesn’t eat lunch with the jocks anymore. Impulsive. Quickly shovels his food in the first ten minutes then spends the rest of his break in the art studio. He’s still got the energy of a Great Dane but there’s a spark missing in his eyes these days.

He finds it hard to say ‘no’ to requests asked of him. Even if there’s no gain, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone, it’s fine to put in an extra bit of effort for others, right? People in his proximity will notice that he rarely takes action without making sure he’s got approval for it first. It’s hard to tell who his friends are these days, if he even has any. Ever since that incident right before the end of his Junior year, things have been different. Harder to trust.

The truth of the matter is that maybe he never really had any friends on the soccer team. He wasn’t a prodigy like a lot of the guys on there, he was just decently fit. Maybe they saw the kid that had just transferred in, some middle-class guy in ratty sneakers whose conversations were always a little tilted and awkward, the odd one out, and invited him to their table out of pity. Perhaps it could have grown into something genuine. But pity is pity, and in the end, he forfeited it when he decided to follow his heart.

No one’s bothered to ask if he regrets what he did. But if they did, he’d answer firmly.

“She was my friend. Still is. Those guys aren’t. I made the right choice.”

____________________________________________________________

A C A D E M I C S

| | E X T R A C U R R I C U L A R A C T I V I T I E S | |

• Fine Arts Club
• Not an official member of the Photography Club but often runs errands for them in exchange for assistance shooting his sculptures for his portfolio.
• Lead benchwarmer of the Soccer Team. Eternal second-string member ever since the mess.

| | B E S T & W O R S T S U B J E C T S | |

| B E S T |

• Art
• P.E
• Math

| W O R S T |

• History
• English
• Chemistry – Yeah, turns out those math skills don’t transfer. Crazy.

| | E X T R A N O T E S | |

• A plaster sculpture of a sea lion posing on an ocean-thrashed boulder is on display in a glass case in the front office, beside the student body’s many accolades. Several other pieces created by James can be found displayed around the school too, albeit smaller than the sea lion.
• The only social media he has is Facebook and an Instagram for his works @xiaojamarts.

【 Spy High 】

YUTO SHITANAGA - Shitanaga Home -> 1700 Coolidge Road, Swindon, TX
Saturday, 10/5/2021 - 7:00 am
Interacting with: Director Sokolova @Hitman

---

Yuto woke with his bedside accessories blaring something vicious. He could feel thin rays of warmth squeezing into his room.

“Hiram,” he grimaced, eyes still closed, “This better be bad.”

“Good morning, agent. You have a mandatory training exercise at 1700 Coolid—”

“Tell Sokolova I’m not- my apologies. Finish what you were saying.”

“Mandatory training exercise at 1700 Coolidge Road in twenty-six – twenty-five now – minutes. Failure to attend will result in significant consequences.”

“Thank you, Hiram. You can let the Director know I won’t be participating.”

What was the saying - better to ask for forgiveness than permission? Though Yuto suspected that the esteemed Director would be miserly with both, it was worth at least taking a shot. It mattered little either way. Better to take it on the chin than suffer through trust exercises with the little twats – pardon him, ‘fellow agents’ – that had brought this punishment upon the cohort in the first place. He saw no reason to be dragged along with the real failures in the team.

Yuto eyed the clock. There was some time to kill. Muffling a yawn, went through the motions – bathroom, wardrobe, weapon, papers, keys. Once his belongings were in place, he made his way downstairs. Uncle Hirose was already at the dining table, placed in front him a bowl flooded with grain. Granola. It was always granola. He looked away from the morning television and waved.

“Mornin’, Yuto.”

“Good morning,” the teen replied. He searched through the fridge for two dark bottles.

“You drink coffee now?”

“Not the American kind.” The bottles made a clinking noise as they went into his shoulder bag. “I may be busy all day today. Take Kevin to the recital if I’m not home by two, if you would.”

“Hmmmmm?” Hirose scratched his chin, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “Sou da rou? You were home late too. Got a special little lady you’re seeing, kiddo?”

Yuto heard a reflexive ‘tch’ leave his mouth but he managed a shrug. “If that’s what you want. Goodbye.”

It was a less than five-minute drive. Entirely possible to arrive on time, even earlier if he wanted. Instead, he parked a block away and scrolled through his news feed. Viral farm animals. No leads on mystery shootout in Timbuktu. Burberry with a new line of coats. So on and so forth.

Ten minutes passed and he exited the car. He made sure to approach with one of the bottles visible in hand.

“Director,” he greeted her with a nod. “My uncle got a new batch of his imported cold brew; would you be interested? It’s an early morning.”

The woman’s gaze remained cold as ever. She barely gave him a glance. Not ideal. He briefly entertained the idea of an apology, a practiced and insincere apology, but refrained. False platitudes would only worsen her mood. The offer of a gift should be sufficient, if his instructors were to be believed.

Yuto simply sighed and stood a distance away, deciding not to try his luck with any more words.

【 Spy High 】

CODENAME: LANCER - Yuto Shitanaga

^{▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔}

___________________________________________ Yuto Shitanaga (二 祐人) _______________________________________________ 18 | 09/06/03 | ♍︎ ___________________________________________ #7ea7d8 [+] ▼ p e r s o n a l d e t a i l s ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Gender - Male ► Sexuality - "This concerns you, how?" ► Nicknames - Z ► Codename - Lancer ► Place of Birth - Tokyo, Japan ▼ p h y s i c a l i t y ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Height - 5’ 10” ► Weight - 150 lbs ► Ethnicity - Japanese ► General Description - Black hair, black eyes, a displeased neutral expression. Clear skin and a matured jawline that often makes people misestimate his age. Training has tempered some musculature into his frame, though his previous thinness makes it look more impressive than it actually is. From his flat stare to his expensive clothes, there’s a lot of stuff about this guy that makes it seem as though he’s looking down on you, as though he shouldn’t be anywhere near this middling Texan public school. Only the latter part is correct. [+] ▼ l i k e s ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Foreign movies ► Going fast ► American soft drinks ▼ d i s l i k e s ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Texan sushi ► Texan fried food ► Texas ▼ g o a l s ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Returning to his family home. ▼ f e a r s ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► "...Rejection, I suppose? What would you like to hear?"

biography If you’re going to devote your life to some obscure, expensive pastime, Yuto would recommend being born into a family responsible for 5% of Japan’s GDP. The Shitanagas are a clan that go way back, sitting on top of a shipping conglomerate that traces its roots back to the Meiji Era. Yuto was given free reign over his hobbies and expenditures on two conditions: that he attended his classes, and that he presented himself as a suitable heir to the conglomerate. He stuck to those guidelines… loosely. Always testing how much he could get away with. It’s not like his parents were ever around long enough to notice, especially once they had to pick up his older brother’s slack. So he tried a whole bevy of hobbies. And he discovered karting. The feeling of having your own life in your hands, the wind whipping through his clothes. He didn’t just love it, he was freaking good at it. Better than anything else he’d tried. His parents approved for the most part. The sport gave him a bunch of chances for sponsorship deals and subsequent connections for the family business. He was a prodigy tearing up the European circuits and it was great until he declared his intentions to remain in Britain for his career. The one that wasn’t set out by his parents. A week-long argument erupted, promises of disownment and emancipation getting thrown about, resulting in Yuto driving his father’s precious Aston Martin into the neighbor’s pool. Suffice to say, he was out. Yuto’s future was up in the air and it was only on the word of some no-name colleague that his father decided his fate. He would be shipped off to the States to live with his maverick uncle, Hirose, the CEO of Texas’ largest sushi restaurant chain. It was a punishment of the highest order but Yuto was given one small act of mercy. A deal. Redeem himself with exemplary university records and he would be let back into the family. That was around four years ago. He got stuck in an American public school, he hated it, then he woke up in a sterile room to a Russian woman and an offer he couldn’t refuse. Even though his mission performances lie in the middle of the bell curve, and he spends most of his time with Promenade waiting for the other agents to get out whatever building they’ve saved from an explosion, graduation is in his sights. He’s driving out and he’s not looking back for anyone. ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ talents and skills Tactical Driving – It started as a hobby, then a promotional gig for a family acquaintance, then a brief career on the professional circuit. Yuto has years of karting under his belt, with many more trophies to show. He was intending to promote into F1 before the big move sent him to the backwaters. Luckily, Promenade has fulfilled his dream of racing full-sized cars, even if it’s in an unconventional manner. Being one of the support members rather than the frontline gives him all the extra practice time he needs. As a result of this and the Neural Sync, his reflexes and co-ordination go beyond any professional level he would have achieved out on the racetrack. He hopes that they’ll give him aerial lessons soon. Languages and Accents – Fluently speaks Japanese, English. Proficient in Mandarin and French. Basic knowledge of German. Talks to himself when he believes no one is listening, practicing the accents and mannerisms he observes in films and school. Internationally Cultured – Rich boy has been places. Fashion – From streetwear to more sophisticated attire, Yuto observes the trends of his age group and can blend in with most crowds depending on his preparation time. Piano/Organ – The plan was to use his eight years of classical training to teach his cousin to play the organ for Sunday service when old lady Gwendolyn had to retire. NOT to wake up at seven every weekend to do it in his cousin’s stead. Basic Mechanics – Learnt alongside the tech-savvier agents. Knows enough to maintain the non-computerised parts of his vehicles but that’s pretty much it. “Business Mode” – Something he picked up from his entrepreneur uncle, a trick along the lines of ‘talk less, smile more’. A deeper voice, a cool smile here and there. If Yuto lets his supposedly handsome face do all the talking, for a brief moment of time he can give off an air of mystery and sophistication, making strangers give him more leeway than they usually would. It has helped him out of a few situations before, though the cracks start to appear if he talks too much.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ [+] ▼ g a d g e t s ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Ford Focus – Promenade vehicles come in all sorts of models but Yuto deemed this one best for daily use. Used for recon, getaway driving, and dropping his cousins off at basketball practice. Seats seven. A hidden fingerprint scanner on the steering wheel prevents anyone outside of Promenade from accessing the vehicle’s hidden upgrades. Special features include but are not limited to: ► Armored Plating – Completely bulletproof, even on the tires. The windows’ tint can be turned on and off for use during the day. ► Offensive Hubcaps – Polearm-like attachments stretch out from the hubcaps, slashing the tires of anyone driving too close. ► Homing Missiles – The car has a maximum of six missiles. They’re deployed from the HCC. ► Smokescreen – Is emitted like an exhaust rather than a projectile. ► Caltrops – For pursuers behind. ► Nitrous Propulsion – Every driver should have a need for speed. ► Holographic Control Centre – By wearing a special pair of glasses he keeps on his person, the driver’s seat turns into a remote AR communication center where he can talk his teammates through any sticky situation they may encounter. Holographic screens and keyboards surround him, and they can only be seen through the glasses. Other agents may also have their own pair. ► Revolving Plates – License plate that switches from his uncle’s registration for daily use to a randomly generated plate for missions. ► Remote Control – With a few quick presses on his smartphone, Yuto can see and operate from the driver’s seat’s perspective or even place the car on autopilot to navigate to his location. ► Ejector Seat – Yuto has no intention of ever using this. ► Unscrubbable Smell of Old Soup – Don’t ask. ► Focus Glasses – Allows access to the HCC. Also has night vision and thermal imaging modes. ► Lower Face Mask – Compact design to help conceal his identity. Functions as a gas mask/respirator when needed. ► Yamaha R1M – Yuto’s ride of choice, though he hardly gets to use it on missions. Or any other time… ► Stun Baton – Has quite the kick. ► Tranquiliser Pistol – Usually shot from the safety of his car. ► Pomade – Five dollars from Walmart. For emergency use only.

[+] ▼ p e r s o n a l p l a y l i s t ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Changes - David Bowie § ► Nobody - Mitski § ▼ s h o r t c o m i n g s ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Can’t hold a substantial conversation for longer than ten minutes. ► Unaccustomed to the necessary violence of the job. ► Finds it difficult to make tough calls when his colleagues’ safety is on the line.

psyche Here’s the thing about Yuto. He’s good in class. He’s athletic. He’s hardworking when he wants to be. He’s polite. But he sure as hell isn’t friendly. Talking with the guy always gives the vibe that there’s somewhere else he’d rather be, though even the concept of him viewing anything favorably can be absurd to people that don’t know him. He’s always trying to find the best way to wriggle out of conversations, with situations often blowing up when this is met with resistance, but he swears it’s not malicious. Dude just finds people to be a lot of effort. They’re strange and unlike him and expect too much from a guy they’ve hardly spoken to. And it’s just going to be awkward for both of them eventually so why not just pull it out from the root? He’s just a guy that wants a stress-free life. And people are the most stressful thing of all.

G R A D E S

Strength: B

Has good stamina but otherwise is the same as his peers.

Intelligence: A

He’s a master of cramming rather than studying. Picks up on concepts quickly, plus it’s not like he has much else to do with his time. Often does his schoolwork ahead of schedule to free up more driving hours. Doesn’t see the point of it all but he knows it’s necessary.

Close-Quarters Combat: C

Can take down the average underpaid security goon but will struggle against anyone more experienced. Isn’t that what the stun baton is for?

Firearms: D-

Never had an interest in firearms in Japan, continues to have no interest now. He knows how to switch the safety off at least? Asking him to shoot at anything further than ten yards is too much though.

Concealment and Disguise: B-

Has since learnt that the trick is to talk sparingly and let his appearance and actions carry the rest.

Strategic Thinking/Leadership: C

Sounds like someone else’s problem.

Mental Agility/Intuition: B+

Bit of a mixed bag. During an operation, he leaves the thinking to someone else. In the driver’s seat though, he’s a beast. There is no rival for his reflexes there.

Hacking/Computer Operation: B+

Required the knowledge to operate and maintain the Focus but he would rather leave the heavy-duty hacking stuff to the others.

Observation/Interrogation: C-

He can read body language and tone decently well. Knowing what to do with that information is a whole different ball game though.

Linguistics: A

Knows his stuff and makes sure to look into the accent and colloquialisms too.

Teamwork/Cooperation: C

As a support member, he doesn’t feel the need to know all the ins and outs of his team members. He probably wouldn’t be so good at it anyway. Besides, when he’s on the road, he’s his own boss. No one knows the roads like he does.

【 Spy High 】

CODENAME: LANCER - Yuto Shitanaga

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___________________________________________ Yuto Shitanaga (二 祐人) _______________________________________________ 18 | 09/06/03 | ♍︎ ___________________________________________ #7ea7d8 [+] ▼ p e r s o n a l d e t a i l s ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Gender - Male ► Sexuality - "This concerns you, how?" ► Nicknames - Z ► Codename - Lancer ► Place of Birth - Tokyo, Japan ▼ p h y s i c a l i t y ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Height - 5’ 10” ► Weight - 150 lbs ► Ethnicity - Japanese ► General Description - Black hair, black eyes, a displeased neutral expression. Clear skin and a matured jawline that often makes people misestimate his age. Training has tempered some musculature into his frame, though his previous thinness makes it look more impressive than it actually is. From his flat stare to his expensive clothes, there’s a lot of stuff about this guy that makes it seem as though he’s looking down on you, as though he shouldn’t be anywhere near this middling Texan public school. Only the latter part is correct. [+] ▼ l i k e s ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Foreign movies ► Going fast ► American soft drinks ▼ d i s l i k e s ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Texan sushi ► Texan fried food ► Texas ▼ g o a l s ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Returning to his family home. ▼ f e a r s ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► "...Rejection, I suppose? What would you like to hear?"

biography If you’re going to devote your life to some obscure, expensive pastime, Yuto would recommend being born into a family responsible for 5% of Japan’s GDP. The Shitanagas are a clan that go way back, sitting on top of a shipping conglomerate that traces its roots back to the Meiji Era. Yuto was given free reign over his hobbies and expenditures on two conditions: that he attended his classes, and that he presented himself as a suitable heir to the conglomerate. He stuck to those guidelines… loosely. Always testing how much he could get away with. It’s not like his parents were ever around long enough to notice, especially once they had to pick up his older brother’s slack. So he tried a whole bevy of hobbies. And he discovered karting. The feeling of having your own life in your hands, the wind whipping through his clothes. He didn’t just love it, he was freaking good at it. Better than anything else he’d tried. His parents approved for the most part. The sport gave him a bunch of chances for sponsorship deals and subsequent connections for the family business. He was a prodigy tearing up the European circuits and it was great until he declared his intentions to remain in Britain for his career. The one that wasn’t set out by his parents. A week-long argument erupted, promises of disownment and emancipation getting thrown about, resulting in Yuto driving his father’s precious Aston Martin into the neighbor’s pool. Suffice to say, he was out. Yuto’s future was up in the air and it was only on the word of some no-name colleague that his father decided his fate. He would be shipped off to the States to live with his maverick uncle, Hirose, the CEO of Texas’ largest sushi restaurant chain. It was a punishment of the highest order but Yuto was given one small act of mercy. A deal. Redeem himself with exemplary university records and he would be let back into the family. That was around four years ago. He got stuck in an American public school, he hated it, then he woke up in a sterile room to a Russian woman and an offer he couldn’t refuse. Even though his mission performances lie in the middle of the bell curve, and he spends most of his time with Promenade waiting for the other agents to get out whatever building they’ve saved from an explosion, graduation is in his sights. He’s driving out and he’s not looking back for anyone. ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ talents and skills Tactical Driving – It started as a hobby, then a promotional gig for a family acquaintance, then a brief career on the professional circuit. Yuto has years of karting under his belt, with many more trophies to show. He was intending to promote into F1 before the big move sent him to the backwaters. Luckily, Promenade has fulfilled his dream of racing full-sized cars, even if it’s in an unconventional manner. Being one of the support members rather than the frontline gives him all the extra practice time he needs. As a result of this and the Neural Sync, his reflexes and co-ordination go beyond any professional level he would have achieved out on the racetrack. He hopes that they’ll give him aerial lessons soon. Languages and Accents – Fluently speaks Japanese, English. Proficient in Mandarin and French. Basic knowledge of German. Talks to himself when he believes no one is listening, practicing the accents and mannerisms he observes in films and school. Internationally Cultured – Rich boy has been places. Fashion – From streetwear to more sophisticated attire, Yuto observes the trends of his age group and can blend in with most crowds depending on his preparation time. Piano/Organ – The plan was to use his eight years of classical training to teach his cousin to play the organ for Sunday service when old lady Gwendolyn had to retire. NOT to wake up at seven every weekend to do it in his cousin’s stead. Basic Mechanics – Learnt alongside the tech-savvier agents. Knows enough to maintain the non-computerised parts of his vehicles but that’s pretty much it. “Business Mode” – Something he picked up from his entrepreneur uncle, a trick along the lines of ‘talk less, smile more’. A deeper voice, a cool smile here and there. If Yuto lets his supposedly handsome face do all the talking, for a brief moment of time he can give off an air of mystery and sophistication, making strangers give him more leeway than they usually would. It has helped him out of a few situations before, though the cracks start to appear if he talks too much.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ [+] ▼ g a d g e t s ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Ford Focus – Promenade vehicles come in all sorts of models but Yuto deemed this one best for daily use. Used for recon, getaway driving, and dropping his cousins off at basketball practice. Seats seven. A hidden fingerprint scanner on the steering wheel prevents anyone outside of Promenade from accessing the vehicle’s hidden upgrades. Special features include but are not limited to: ► Armored Plating – Completely bulletproof, even on the tires. The windows’ tint can be turned on and off for use during the day. ► Offensive Hubcaps – Polearm-like attachments stretch out from the hubcaps, slashing the tires of anyone driving too close. ► Homing Missiles – The car has a maximum of six missiles. They’re deployed from the HCC. ► Smokescreen – Is emitted like an exhaust rather than a projectile. ► Caltrops – For pursuers behind. ► Nitrous Propulsion – Every driver should have a need for speed. ► Holographic Control Centre – By wearing a special pair of glasses he keeps on his person, the driver’s seat turns into a remote AR communication center where he can talk his teammates through any sticky situation they may encounter. Holographic screens and keyboards surround him, and they can only be seen through the glasses. Other agents may also have their own pair. ► Revolving Plates – License plate that switches from his uncle’s registration for daily use to a randomly generated plate for missions. ► Remote Control – With a few quick presses on his smartphone, Yuto can see and operate from the driver’s seat’s perspective or even place the car on autopilot to navigate to his location. ► Ejector Seat – Yuto has no intention of ever using this. ► Unscrubbable Smell of Old Soup – Don’t ask. ► Focus Glasses – Allows access to the HCC. Also has night vision and thermal imaging modes. ► Lower Face Mask – Compact design to help conceal his identity. Functions as a gas mask/respirator when needed. ► Yamaha R1M – Yuto’s ride of choice, though he hardly gets to use it on missions. Or any other time… ► Stun Baton – Has quite the kick. ► Tranquiliser Pistol – Usually shot from the safety of his car. ► Pomade – Five dollars from Walmart. For emergency use only.

[+] ▼ p e r s o n a l p l a y l i s t ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Changes - David Bowie § ► Nobody - Mitski § ▼ s h o r t c o m i n g s ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ► Can’t hold a substantial conversation for longer than ten minutes. ► Unaccustomed to the necessary violence of the job. ► Finds it difficult to make tough calls when his colleagues’ safety is on the line.

psyche Here’s the thing about Yuto. He’s good in class. He’s athletic. He’s hardworking when he wants to be. He’s polite. But he sure as hell isn’t friendly. Talking with the guy always gives the vibe that there’s somewhere else he’d rather be, though even the concept of him viewing anything favorably can be absurd to people that don’t know him. He’s always trying to find the best way to wriggle out of conversations, with situations often blowing up when this is met with resistance, but he swears it’s not malicious. Dude just finds people to be a lot of effort. They’re strange and unlike him and expect too much from a guy they’ve hardly spoken to. And it’s just going to be awkward for both of them eventually so why not just pull it out from the root? He’s just a guy that wants a stress-free life. And people are the most stressful thing of all.

G R A D E S

Strength: B

Has good stamina but otherwise is the same as his peers.

Intelligence: A

He’s a master of cramming rather than studying. Picks up on concepts quickly, plus it’s not like he has much else to do with his time. Often does his schoolwork ahead of schedule to free up more driving hours. Doesn’t see the point of it all but he knows it’s necessary.

Close-Quarters Combat: C

Can take down the average underpaid security goon but will struggle against anyone more experienced. Isn’t that what the stun baton is for?

Firearms: D-

Never had an interest in firearms in Japan, continues to have no interest now. He knows how to switch the safety off at least? Asking him to shoot at anything further than ten yards is too much though.

Concealment and Disguise: B-

Has since learnt that the trick is to talk sparingly and let his appearance and actions carry the rest.

Strategic Thinking/Leadership: C

Sounds like someone else’s problem.

Mental Agility/Intuition: B+

Bit of a mixed bag. During an operation, he leaves the thinking to someone else. In the driver’s seat though, he’s a beast. There is no rival for his reflexes there.

Hacking/Computer Operation: B+

Required the knowledge to operate and maintain the Focus but he would rather leave the heavy-duty hacking stuff to the others.

Observation/Interrogation: C-

He can read body language and tone decently well. Knowing what to do with that information is a whole different ball game though.

Linguistics: A

Knows his stuff and makes sure to look into the accent and colloquialisms too.

Teamwork/Cooperation: C

As a support member, he doesn’t feel the need to know all the ins and outs of his team members. He probably wouldn’t be so good at it anyway. Besides, when he’s on the road, he’s his own boss. No one knows the roads like he does.

[c a n c e l e d]

Gonna be trying for the Peach Blossom role and I will reserve Na Jaemin for my FC

Spirit Wielders!

MACKENZIE LI - Lakewood High
Monday, 1 October 2029 - 7:30 am

---

“Ah, how the battlefield calls. At ease, peons, for your savior has returned.”

“I can’t-- I c-can’t do this.”

Her sneakers were slapping the concrete towards the gym as soon as her mother’s car disappeared from sight. The girl looked anxious as ever - hair a little messier, eyes a little more sunken in. Every aspect of her appearance seemed designed to slip under the radar with one exception: the obnoxiously bright skateboard sticking out of her backpack. It felt like a demonic ‘KICK ME’ sign.

“Our inspiring entrance!” Venga hissed from inside her brain. Which was a thing that happened now, a lot, for some reason. “What are you doing, child? You mock me with your cowardice.”

Mackenzie locked the cubicle door and hung her backpack against it. “I can’t. I can’t, I can’t, I just…”

It was a mistake coming here so soon after that attack. Aliens- Demons were real, for heck’s sake! Why on earth would anyone be leaving the house after—

It all came back in the flash. The news reports and the memorials and the family discussions and the ‘what comes next’s. The losses mourned; none of them hers though. She knew their names and their faces, shared classes and volleyball games with a few of them, but held no right to memorialise them. Not after cutting all her peers out of her life for a year.

Mackenzie squeezed her eyes shut, cutting off impending tears and catching her breath. The world was a muted red when she finally opened them again.

No. No, no, she couldn't do this again.

“I…” It seemed redundant to repeat it. Somewhere within, she heard Venga growl in anticipation.

“A suitable opponent indeed. Release me, child.”

Standing on the toilet seat cover, Mackenzie peered out of the overhead window and did just that. Venga’s gargantuan form materialized. The building shuddered as he touched down, dust and metallic creaks emanating above her. She could already feel her heart rate accelerating.

And as it foretold, a monstrous "YAHAHAHA!" echoed through Lakewood High once again.

тнє fℓσωєяѕ σf уσυтн

Interested

Lostman Graffiti

NAGAKU OTOYA - Northwestern District: Yajirui-Kan
@Crowvette

---

Let’s just get it out of the way. Otoya wasn’t a fan of that golden boy taking the club’s helm. He didn’t like the way he dressed, the way he talked. Guy was like a spotlight shining directly into his eye. Though Sayuri, bless her heart, always had some praise (or excuse) for him, Otoya was never swayed. He knew what that type was like.

So he abstained, his seat half-turned away from the group as he plucked a countermelody to the beat in his earphones. A small show of rebellion that brought him a little satisfaction, even if no one else visibly gave a shit. He didn’t pack anything large, once again just slinging his guitar case over his back.

He scratched at a bruise through Hiroyuki’s little spiel. Simple enough.

“Oi, wanna check the basement with me, Fumiko?” he asked, jerking his chin down the hall.

Lostman Graffiti

NAGAKU OTOYA - Central District: Outside Sharehouse
@HereComesTheSnow @Crowvette

---

"Yo, shit."

Shit was damn right. This day was shaping up to be a whole lot of it. As Fumiko fretted about, Otoya rested his hands on his knees, waiting to catch his breath.

“Giant rat,” he said, as if that explained everything. He heard how stupid that sounded and added, “It’s big.”

A groan as he hoisted the guitar case off his shoulder, letting it rest by the dinner table. Fumiko was right about needing a weapon. Where the hell was he gonna get one? Mentally running over the belongings he had in the sharehouse, there was next to nothing. His guitar was a hard ‘fuck no’. Spare drumsticks were too short. Stolen umbrella was too flimsy. Kitchen knives were communal and therefore sacred.

Ah, whatever. It was preparation for a ‘what if’ scenario, hardly a priority. If their luck held out, that obese nightmare would run out of food and be out of the block by morning.

Otoya peeked out the window hoping to see exactly that, only to narrow his eyes in annoyance.

“Fuck me, there’s another one."