WIDE PANEL, a street somewhere in downtown New York. It’s early evening and rain lashes down from the heavens, neon shining through the downpour.
CAPTION: “I thought you’d understand.”
Push in on a doorway at the bottom of a set of steps below street level. The door lies open, with a burly looking man with some serious ink, a shaved head, a wife beater and a pair of leather pants slumped unconscious against the doorframe.
The leather pants are horrific. He probably deserved it.
CAPTION: “Well, I don’t. So spell it out for me kid.”
CUT TO a CLOSE UP on a worried, weaselly looking man in his late twenties. He wears a bandana and a black vest. He also has some serious ink. He looks up worryingly at three familiar blades coming in from the top right of the panel.
CAPTION: “I’m not a kid anymore.”
CUT TO a close up on LOGAN. He’s wearing a leather jacket and jeans. He looks angry.
LOGAN: Well, you’re acting like it.
VOICE (OFF): It’s armour okay--
WIDE PANEL, CUT TO a medium shot of HISAKO sitting in a leather chair. We can see that we’re in a dingy looking tattoo parlour. The weaselly looking guy sits nearby, a tattoo gun shaking in his hand.
HISAKO is wearing a wife beater too and is now sporting a half sleeve tattoo (something like this maybe https://lh3.ggpht.com/-fQQocoHiJBA/UXDqAxlknZI/AAAAAAAABMg/7HisKh4sr_U/s400/koi-fish-tattoos-7.jpg).
HISAKO: Just a different kind.