Electra Heart had long been a stop for shady men to find a "date" and for even shadier business deals to transpire. The bass beat pounded in his soul, the lights dazzled magenta-turquoise, and Present Mic had someone very important to meet.
It was almost laughably easy to bribe all the workers. If things went well tonight, he'd be a rich (well, richer) man. He paused for a minute in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror to pop his collar. Oh, yeah. It was Present Mic's time to shine.
The crowd of sweaty deviants parted before him, everything from the studded leather jacket he wore to the two feet of hair piled atop his head screaming danger. Up a winding spiral staircase he climbed to his own private little lounge, the writhing bodies on stage only catching his attention for a moment or two. His client, however, was already waiting for him on the STD-ridden couch.
"Kenshiro! It's as much of a pleasure as always to see you!" he simpered and stayed standing. Hizashi towered over the short, horizontally inclined, man. Perfect. And then, dropping the pretense, he leaned in close. "Let's talk business. Get comfortable."
Hizashi gestured for the attention of a scantily-clad waitress. Just to freak his client out, he leaned in close and whispered, "Four shots. Two vodka, two water. Put the water in yellow glasses and the vodka in purple." Oh, they all knew him here. He blew more money in a single night than the rest of the normal patrons did in a month. Kaneshiro shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Let's get to the heart of the matter, yeah? You've been selling and selling and selling all day long, but you haven't bought since March. Where've you been getting your stuff?" The round arrived, and Hizashi wordlessly thanked the waitress by pressing a 5000-yen bill into her hand. "Cheers," he held up his first 'shot' for a mini-toast.
The fat little traitor clinked glasses, as was dictated by social etiquette. But would he squeal? "I don't know what you mean," he said airily. There were sweat stains under his armpits visible even in the low light. Disgusting.
"You don't know?" Hizashi hissed, downing his first 'shot' in one smooth motion, "That's weird. Do you think Chihaya'd know?"
Kenshiro choked on his own, very real, liquor. "What do you mean?"
"Your daughter, dumbass. I wonder what she thinks of her unemployed daddy who can still somehow afford to send her to Hosu High even though all he does all day is sit around and watch TV. Do you think she knows where you've been buying your product? Because it sure wasn't from me. And meanwhile you've been running around selling piss-poor product getting people sent to the hospital! It's only a matter of time before the police get involved and start trying to track me down for even more than they already are. So, I'll repeat my question one last time. Where've you been getting your stuff?"
Kenshiro had nothing to say except a weak "what?"
"You heard me. All you have to do is just tell me, and start buying my goods again, and you'll both have someone to come home to at the end of the night."
His client tensed as if to get up from his seat. Hizashi smirked, cold, down his nose at Kenshiro. "She's got this real pretty blonde hair. Does she get it from her mom? I think she'd hate if you weren't to get home in one piece tonight."
"What do you want from me?"
"I think I've been pretty clear. Information and your patronage." Hizashi was getting awfully tired of repeating himself. "See, I'm not an unreasonable guy. I don't really want to hurt you or your daughter. The thing is, if you don't tell me what I want to know right this goddamn minute, things are gonna get a whole lot more interesting."
Kenshiro's face clenched into a whimper. Was he about to cry? "Fine. Fine! I'll talk! I've been buying from…." and then he muttered something too low to hear.
"What was that?" Hizashi whispered, low and cloying, face close enough to Kenshiro's that if he so desired he could kiss him.
"I've been buying from Sugimoto!"
Hizashi recoiled away, twisting into a grimace and swore loudly. It took him a moment to collect himself before he returned to his calm-ish state and spoke again. "Get out of here. Go home to your daughter and tell her it'll be a couple months until she gets her new phone. I'm charging you double for the next month."
"What-you can't-!"
"See, lemme tell you a little something about being a villain. I do what I want, fatty. Now, run home with your tail between your legs. I'll be in touch!" and then Hizashi strutted down the stairs, laughing all the way.
Hizashi didn't see Kenshiro leave. He shook it off, left the waitress and bartenders hefty tips, and called one of his henchmen around front with the car.
The bright red Ferrari reminded Hizashi of something he couldn't quite put into words. All he could say on the matter was that he liked it quite a bit and that it was one of his finest purchases. The seats were comfortable and it accelerated in the blink of an eye; perfect for getaway driving. And, hey, the Voice Villain had a brand to uphold.
There was one tiny little catch about getaway cars, though. For one to get away in it, it had to be parked in a convenient location.
And at the moment, the report he was getting was that his minions were off around town taking it on a joyride. He'd be sure to chew them out about it later. Sirens sounded in the distance. Kenshiro had squealed, hadn't he? Who else could it have been?
"You little shit!" he hissed, taking off into the narrow alley beside the club. Whether the insult was directed at his useless groupie or the traitorous pig, even he wasn't sure.