If one were to travel through the sullied backstreets of Osaka, it is unlikely they would expect to find, amongst the low income housing and pachink parlors, an bristling restaurant of western cuisine. Even more puzzling, then, was the seemingly state of relative emptiness, what little cars were frequently found to be parked in it far outstripping the average income of the locals. Such were the thoughts of one Tachibana Saburo - enforcer of the Akaihana Soshiki, the criminal mob that held control over a large portion of the slums of Osaka. Sent here to deal with...trouble, with one of the many third parties who participated in unlawful business within their territory. Yet as he stood outside the bizarre restaurant, their golden frosted windows leaving little to be known, he could not help but feel suspicious.

When the door was opened, a man in a suit greeted him, with what appeared to be a long blade where his arm should have been - the result of mutant quirk, he surmised. It seemed he would at last be allowed in. Following the man, he stepped into the building. It's insides were - he would have to admit - certainly luxurious, carpeted in the colors of red, white and mauve, western paintings decorating their walls. It was certainly...a foreign experience. Entering the dining room, he raised his eyes in surprise as he at last saw the one he had been sent to warn - a man of unearthly size, taller than him even as he stay seated in the wooden throne that he appeared to call a chair. To his left, one of his flunkies, a mere mutant type with a fly's mouth holding a rifle. To his front, a veritable banquet - half eaten, and yet larger than what he had eaten in the entire past day alone.

"I see you have arrived! Welcome - do take a seat" said the man, in a deep bass tone. Complying to the large man's request, Tachibana took his seat. Extending his hand, he moved to grab one of the many, many plates - just for his hand to be slapped away at the last minute. "Take a seat - not start to eat." the mafioso continued, in a jovial tone, as he finished yet another meal of his great feast. "You know," he began, as Saburo stood in confusion "It's not easy to get this kind of meal in this country - and though the local cuisine is fine, well," he chuckles, chewing on yet another meatball, "It's nothing quite like what i had at home."

"Mr. Needle, I have been sent to -" Saburo begins, before being interrupted. "I can't say I miss the old country, but you japanese are quite bizarre - all too bashful and restrained, too obsessed with public image." he finished another plate. "And all too restrictive! I have spent for bribes in a week what would have taken a very whole month in my homeland!" Mr. Needl- "And worst of all, sushi's nothing like what they hype it up to b.." he began yet again, before trailing off. His brows suddenly creasing, he turned to the kitchen. "Garçon!" he yells, as an man in kitchenwear rapidly walks through the door "Have you forgotten my order? You have put too much sauce on this pasta!" he exclaims, clearly displeased about the matter, putting the plate on the waiter's hand. "Hai, Mr. Needle. We shall make another one." he says calmly, before the portly man raises his arms in protest. "Don't throw it away - just scrape the sauce! You know what amount i want..." finishes the gangster, as he raises a long, thin glass of what appears to be a soda with a straw to his mouth.

Tired and annoyed by the continuous ignorance of this obese fool, Tachibana abruptly gets up from his chair, yelling. "Listen, American! You have flooded these streets with drugs - far more than what was allowed in your deal with the Akaihana! You are raising too much attention! You shall stop - or you shall face the consequences! he exclaims, ponctuating his statement as he drives his fist into the wooden table, the sound echoing around the restaurant...
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With little to no effect on the foreigner, who unimpressedly sipped at his drink through a straw, leaning his chair as he did. Spitting on the table, Tachibana turned to take his leave, walking through the empty salon floors of the dining hall. At his table, Sebastian finished the last drops of his glass, setting it aside as he reached into his suit...before he pulled out his sidearm, and brought it to face the walking enforcer. The subsequent crack was heard throughout the neighbourhood, and without any reaction, the corpse formerly known as Saburo fell to the ground as the walls around him were sprayed with blood.*

"Pfff." continued Greenfinger, nonchalantly. "Why would you turn your back on someone you have threatened?"

Holstering his arm yet again, the villain moved to take another plate, when a buzzing began in his pocket. Wasting no time, he removed the phone within, flipping it open to reveal the primitive screen and keys beneath. An ever increasing rarity, these days - though undeniable safe. "Moshi, Moshiii~" he stated, uncaring to the dead man in the room. Speaking came from the other side. "It's today, already? I'll be going, then" he states, closing the small phone. Immediately, he turns to his men. "Knifehand, dispose of our guest. And you - he points to the man with a fly's mouth. "Package my dinner. I'll eat it on the way to the meeting."

He stops for a moment, looking at the growing pool of blood in the floor "And do send those to drycleaning - I don't want to smell blood when i eat here tomorrow."