Goemon Ishikawa, a serious, stern looking samurai. The thirteenth warrior of his line he was tasked not only with carrying on the good name of his family, but also their famous skills with a blade. Being of such noble stock he often wondered how he’d found himself roped into such a rag tag group of misfits.
Arsene Lupin III was a half insane, world-renowned thief. He was also an incorrigible womanizer and a glutton for each and every highly valued or polished rock he laid his eyes on. The gunslinger Daisuke Jigen was a little better, honorable and generally agreeable to those he knew well. At the same time, he may have had a harder head than Lupin’s. The three traveled the world evading the police, dodging security forces in wild schemes to steal priceless artifacts, jewels, paintings, wine and women.
Of course as a man of his stature and training, Goemon had been trained to resist such vice, at least he was supposed to. The group would often tease him with such temptations. It was nearly driving Goemon mad, the inane situations they forced him into, the schemes he’d be roped into, the situations Lupin’s personal mistress Fujiko would drag them into, all the while flaunting her generously endowed curves in their faces. Goemon felt the blood rush to his face recalling the last time Fujiko had practically shoved his face into her enormous cleavage begging him to help her break into the home of some billionaire fat cat; something that Lupin and Jigen had laughed about to no end.
Now here he was, nearing middle age, miles from Japan, still unmarried and running with a pack of most dishonorable albeit famous thieves.
Goemon stood up, breaking himself from his meditative trance and grabbed the nearest rock on the shore in a rare fit of anger. Turning towards the shore he aimed to throw it cleanly across the water.
“I wish…” he growled. “I WISH…!”
Fri Jun 10 09:20:50 2016