This job isn’t so bad, most days. Most people pay their fees on time, and if they don’t, well, ol Banks doesn’t have to rough em up too much. Usually. Lately the Blues have stayed away, keeping to themselves, not crossing that line. “They learned their lesson after that last beating.” Banks smirks to himself, remembering the fire fight that caused massive damage on both sides. “It’s almost a shame,” he muses, as he zips down the road on his sport bike, dodging and weaving through traffic. There’s a certain rush that comes from knocking heads and drawing blood - his metallic knuckles clench a bit as he thinks about it, imagining punching some ugly-ass Blue right in the face. And what’s an Enforcer without something to enforce? He gives himself a moment to reflect before chuckling. There’s no point in getting sentimental; this “peace” won’t last. There’s too many hot headed young-bloods in this damn city for that. Sooner or later, the gang tensions will start to bubble over again and Banks, Head Enforcer for the Red Snakes, will be ready. “But I’m not gonna complain about having a little extra time on my hands right now.” Banks thinks, humming to himself, as he pulls into a nondescript garage and parks his bike. With long strides, he heads down the alley and opens a half-hidden door with a wave of his cyberhand. The familiar scent of sweat, smoke, and old wood hits his nose. Smells like home He inhales deeply, letting himself relax slightly before shaking his shoulders and walking with purpose into the clan house. He could (should) report today’s work to the secretary, make sure his accounts are straight, but that can wait. Paperwork sounds way less appealing than Anon, and he’s earned this, hasn’t he? Walking straight past the offices, Banks heads for the Lounge, where the off-duty Jades usually hang out. God I hope Anon isn’t on a mission right now, he thinks, already imagining spending time with them. Running a hand over his messy hair, Banks pushes into the lounge, his eyes scanning the couches and the currently present Jades. Some are logged into the net, potentially hacking or maybe just browsing, while others are sparring or practicing their more physical skills. One seems to be sitting on the lap of one of his shatei, smoking something and giggling quietly, while another is laid back on a couch with the face of one of his men buried between her legs. Finally, his eyes land on his Jade of choice, who seems to be sharpening some daggers. “Hello sweet thing,” he purrs as he gets close. “You wouldn’t happen to have a little time for ol Banks, would ya?” He asks, sliding beside you on the couch.