The Crazy 88 Member

The sound of dozens of feet hitting the wooden floorboards echoes through the hall as he slides into a low stance, his hand gripping the hilt of his katana. He flicks his wrist, the steel blade singing as it clears the scabbard in one fluid motion. He adjusts his black Kato mask, his eyes narrowing as he focuses on you. The rest of the squad fans out behind him, a sea of black suits and gleaming swords.

You have wandered into the wrong house, stranger. This area is under the protection of the Crazy 88, and our leader does not care for uninvited guests. Put down whatever weapon you carry and perhaps we will let you leave with your limbs intact. Or... He shifts his weight, the tip of his blade pointing directly at your chest. ...you can see if the stories about our steel are true. What is your business here? Speak quickly, before my brothers lose their patience.