Title: Under The Spotlight
Character: Ryouken
Word Count: 984||Chapters: 1/1
Genre: General||Rated: G
Notes: Ryouken is pretty. Very pretty. So, ideas spun around and turned into Ryouken is a supermodel. This is mainly a little character piece to set the world out in my head. Once I develop it more, things could change.
Challenges: Diversity Writing (DM/5Ds/VRAINS), B26: non-canon scene; Word Count Set Boot Camp, #5, 984; Character Diversity Boot Camp, #48, excellent
Summary: Even Revolver needs a job when he's not in Link VRAINS. And it must be a job where no one would suspect him of being a cyber-terrorist. Which is exactly what he has.
Endless light shone down. Ryouken knew not to move. He'd done this before, far more times than he could count. He could breath, but that was it. He couldn't breathe deeply; he couldn't look as if he were breathing at all. Just enough so he didn't pass out from lack of air.
If he'd had a choice he would have passed out from using up all of his strength in VRAINS but that wasn't one of the options available to him for now.
So he sat – or lounged if one were to be absolutely fair – on the stage, in blinding light, and let people he really wasn't all that fond of take pictures of him. He twisted, turned, posed, moved just as they said, paying only enough attention to their words to know how to do it, and caring for absolutely nothing else.
The main part of his focus remained where it properly belonged: considering the issues that he and his father and everyone else dealt with in cyberspace. It was almost time to start their final plan. Once that came to fruition, then the problem of the Ignis would be dealt with forever.
In absolute truth, Ryouken could not be happier at the thought of all of them being gone. Not only would humanity be that much safer, then he would have finally set everything to rights that had been so far out of sorts for so many years.
"Tilt your head, please!" The photographer's voice cut through his thoughts and Ryouken tilted his head, his flawless smile not faltering for a moment.
He wanted this session over with. He wanted to get out of here and get back to his real job. All this did was bring in useful cash flow and provide a cover that he didn't think anyone, not even Playmaker would crack.
You had to think to look at something to uncover what it really was, after all, and who would look at world-famous supermodel Kogami Ryouken and even consider for a moment that he could possibly be the absolutely infamous and feared Revolver, leader of the Knights of Hanoi?
That's why I do this at all, he reminded himself, shifting at another request. He'd needed some sort of cover job once he reached a point where he could be more useful to his father, and nothing else interested him. College wasn't a bad idea and he did take a few classes here and there, mostly the sort of ones where he didn't have to put in much effort. But for the actual work that most people saw…
He was in magazines and on billboards, advertising this, that, and the other. Most of them he didn't even know what they plastered his face on, and he cared even less.
He thought Spectre knew. Spectre was, officially, his personal assistant, though he'd only taken up the position in the last few months. Until then he'd only shown up to water the plants in his office – Ryouken's official office, that was. The one where people who wanted to hire his face went. Not the ones who wanted to hire Revolver.
He had more fingers than he had people who knew Revolver and Ryouken were the same person. And as far as he was concerned, it could stay like that.
But Spectre was one of those and he kept flawless track not only of everything in VRAINS but everything in the real world as well. If Ryouken ever wanted a comprehensive list of everything his face had ever appeared on, Spectre could provide it.
Why bother? That's not me. It really wasn't. It was Kogami Ryouken, who wasn't the same as Revolver. He had to work as Ryouken, but still… not the same thing at all.
Sweat trickled down the side of his cheek, but before he could wipe it away, Spectre was there with a small pad, dabbing at it, making certain it vanished without leaving any smeared traces behind. Being under the lights meant a lot of makeup and the lights themselves meant a lot of heat, whatever the temperature was outside.
Ryouken nodded, just the fainest hint of a movement, not enough for the cameras to pick up even if they were still snapping. He wasn't going to claim they weren't. The actual cameras for the photoshoot might not be, but the ones for one of those 'behind the scenes with the famous supermodel' might well be. Sometimes they didn't tell him when they were doing one of those. Supposedly it made his reactions 'more real'.
Oddly enough, the camera workers who did that at the wrong time ended up losing what they'd recorded before it could be revealed to the public. Sometimes even before they could see it themselves.
One reporter had asked him once about a small rash of incidents where some of his photographs had been destroyed by unknown effects – at least that was what they called it. Ryouken knew what really happened. He'd smiled innocently and claimed that he knew so very little about computers beyond the basics that someone could claim little green aliens did it and he would have known no better.
The one problem with the innocent, idiotic supermodel persona he'd developed was that there were a few people who dug up his father's history and wanted to know why he hadn't taken after him. Ryouken held himself back from raging at them, but only by the barest edges.
He did take after his father. He worked himself to the bone to please his father. And so few people would ever know that truth.
"I think that's it for today," the photographer finally said. "We're not going to need you for another few days." They would work with other models; Ryouken already knew that.
This would give the Knights of Hanoi time to put their plan into effect.
Revolver loved his job.
The End
Notes: I also wrote this as a late gift for SilvorMoon's birthday.