Ink Intertwined
The buzzing of a tattoo gun filled the shop. Hannibal found it faintly calming and relaxing, the smell of antiseptic, the abrasive pain that vibrated from the needles of the gun, the soft murmur of his tattoo artist’s words in his ear, it was all intensely pleasant and an excellent release from the miseries of the past month.
The breach was sealed and the kaiju were gone for good, supposedly. Hannibal Chau was basically a king. His competitors wanted what he had, the PPDC wanted a slice of his fortune, every no name and person with any regard for wealth wanted a bit of what Hannibal had. Not to mention the fact that someone had put it out that he was dead. A rather inconvenient rumor to dispel. He’d been stuck putting down attempts on his life and business for the majority of the past month and he wasn't entirely happy about the inconvenience.
That’s not to say that business wasn’t booming. Chau had planned for he eventuality, stockpiling kaiju organs and remains just in case the goons at the PPDC did manage to stem the flow of beasts from the breach. Chau was sitting pretty atop a mountain of money. Regardless, the last month had been miserable. Hannibal’s fist curled into a ball and he wrinkled his nose in distaste, frowning.
Liu Min, his tattooist said something softly and Hannibal turned his head slightly towards her, replying in his low deep rumble, “Yeah, I know. It’s just been a huge pain in my ass.” Making an effort to relax, Hannibal sighed. He was seated in a chair that gave Liu Min optimal working space. The gangster was dressed in nice black slacks belted with an equally nice black leather belt. His shoes were significantly less ostentatious than his usual gold plated ones, though still extremely high quality black leather. Chau was wearing a wife-beater and little else on the top half of his body, other than a gold linked chain around his neck. Fine black lines curled from under the shirt up on Hannibal's chest, the tattoos underneath a sure mark that there was more to Chau than met the eye. Hannibal's green and black brocade suit jacket and vest, along with his dress shirt were neatly laid out on a counter in the back.
Hannibal's arms were bare, his hands ringed in gold, the faint outlines of writing crossing his knuckles and faded sparrows lined the backs of his weathered hands. His arms were curling with traditional Chinese style ink, all in black-and-whites, some of it clearly newer than others. The style was clearly Chinese, but the subject seemed to waver, stylized kaiju curled around his right arm, the one that took his eye out was the centerpiece. Liu Min was leaning over his left arm, working on his newest piece, a gorgeous lining of Otachi and her spawn soaring their way up towards his shoulder, tails wrapping around the inside of his arm.
Hannibal Chau was a survivor and a victor. The kaiju had made his fortune and fame, secured his wealth for the entirety of the foreseeable future. Chau knew more about the beasts than most of the PPDC’s K-Science division put together and he respected the power and brutal strength of the monsters. He was also a smug motherfucker who thought of getting the tattoos as a symbol of his own life, affirmation of his defeat of the little bastards that came so close to taking his own.
