A/N: Life happened. Also, apologies about the update and takedown. I noticed a few errors that slipped over my editing.
Tamaki's shoes clicked along the floor with each footstep. He maintained his professional demeanor: hands held behind his back, wearing a gray, two-piece suit, accented by the thin-rimmed glasses adorning his face and combed-back hair. Keeping himself calm was no easy task. The guards of G Block had already briefed him on the situation; two Deadmen were missing, nowhere to be found in the prison. If anything troubled him, it was the idea of two little birdies escaping their cage.
From the quick briefing call to his office, he was told that the search team was frantically trying to figure out where they had gone. What should have been a menial task was proving difficult. The collars should be able to track them, but that capability had never been tested outside prison walls. Unlikely as it seemed, he was faced with the possibility that they were already gone. He clenched his teeth at the thought. No one, he said to himself, escapes Deadman Wonderland. Not on my watch.
He found himself in front of a great steel door. A small pad sat on the adjacent wall, green lights tracing the outline of a human hand. Tamaki pressed his hand on the pad, and the lights responded in turn. A scan of his prints was compared against a full database of approved staff. The system found a match and opened the door for him.
The secret room bustled with technology and panic. Guards, officers, and general technicians ran around the room from station to station, trying to pinpoint where their fugitives were headed. Tamaki was always impressed by the devotion put into their work. Fear of death proved to be a powerful motive.
Tamaki kept his hands on the small of his back, eyes narrow and face stern. His aura exuded serenity, a mask for the storm raging beneath his skin. The room seemed to go silent when he entered the room, footsteps echoing through the chamber. They stopped and stared. "Well?" he shouted, more for volume than out of spite. "Don't just stand there. Get back to work!" They did as they were told, resuming their duties.
A guard approached him. "Sir!" he said with a salute. "I assume that you've been briefed?"
Tamaki glared at him through squinted eyelids. "Would I be here if I hadn't?" He walked past the muttering minion. "We have a pair of runaways, yes?"
The guard accompanied him to a central table. "That's correct, sir." He pressed a button on the underside of the table, bringing up a translucent holographic screen from a projector on its surface. The screen was colored with visuals and a map of the prison itself, which zoomed in on G Block. "At around 1130 hours, we lost tracking on their collars." He pointed at a pair of small red dots that vanished after a few seconds. "No trace of their existence. Could've been something interfering with the GPS signal, but they somehow eluded all of the cameras and guards." A small green appeared near where the red ones died out. "Well, except one."
"They bested one of the guards on patrol?" Tamaki pondered, stroking his chin. "Even through the Worm Eater?"
"They're not Undertakers, sir. They have the weapons, but not the training." The guard swiped away a few visuals and brought up profiles of the escaped Deadmen. "It also doesn't help that he fought against Woodpecker and Hummingbird. Weapons don't help against her if she gets the first move."
Tamaki sighed. "Ignoring that minor detail, why did you take so long to tell me about this?"
"W-well..." the guard stammered.
Light flickered off of the promoter's glasses. His eyes opened in a slim gaze. "Well what?"
"We... we didn't notice until at least half an hour after their tracking fell off. It took a guard on mail duty checking their rooms to find them missing. That was after we found the dead guard."
Tamaki fell into a chair at the table, massaging his temples with shaking hands. His elbows held the brunt of his weight against the table. "And why," he hissed, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose, "didn't you find out immediately? Why did it take a damn newspaper boy to see that they were gone?" He raised his voice with each word, intensifying the emotion in the room. Guards started dropping their tasks again and prepared themselves for the inevitable outburst.
"Sir," the guard said, "that falls on the watchman..."
Tamaki beat his fist into the table. "Then who was the fucking watchman?!" His voice boomed. The people stood still. Anger was not an emotion he displayed often. He clenched his teeth together. "Bring him to me," he growled. "I have words for him."
The guard across the table from him looked back at one of the technicians, who responded with a shrug. "Um...," he mumbled back at his superior. "Right away, sir." He rushed through the entrance/exit door, keeping up a sprinter's pace.
Tamaki swore he could feel a vein burst underneath his skin. His blood boiled just below the surface. He pulled a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and pressed it lightly against his forehead. Part of him wondered why he trusted such incompetent fools to do the grub work. Right, he answered, because there aren't enough people in the world to trust.
A nearby technician swallowed the lump in his throat while Tamaki polished his glasses. Did he dare approach that man right now? He thought about all the things that could go wrong, all the words he could say that would cost him his head. Even so, he had questions that needed to be answered. He approached the man. "Er... sir?" he asked.
Tamaki turned his head up and stopped his polishing. His face had softened, but still carried a look of bottled fury. "What?" he snapped.
"It's just... why are so worried about finding them? Won't the collars kill them in a few days?"
Tamaki sighed. The voice sounded strangely familiar to him, like... a thief gone missing. "It's a matter of principle, my dear boy." He slid the glasses back onto his nose. "No one escapes Deadman Wonderland, understood?"
Yō nodded under his helmet. "Yes, sir. Understood, sir."
Tamaki rose from his chair, adjusted his suit jacket, and checked his watch. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to speak with an associate." He turned toward the exit, strolling casually. If not for the buzzing of computers, his newly donned aura would suggest that nothing was out of the ordinary.
"But... what about the watchman you wanted to see?" Yō asked.
Light flickered off the rim of Tamaki's glasses. He sneered at the thought of a poor lamb sent to the slaughter. "Send him to my office. I'll be waiting for him." The door opened in front of him, and he took the exit into the darkened corridor.
Yō returned to his "assigned" station and resumed his work. He didn't know much about the way the collars worked, but this was the easiest way to find his sister. Minatsuki, he thought. I'll find you. And we'll make this whole thing right.
Ganta's head broke the surface, and he consumed a mouthful of air. He could feel Minatsuki slipping in his grip as the tide tugged on their bodies. However, he found it relatively easy to stay afloat in the salty water. As she slipped out of his hands, she rose to the surface, resting on her back. Even through the jump, she remained unconscious.
He treaded over to her body. Her chest didn't appear to be moving. Shit, he thought, she's not gone, is she? He checked for a pulse at the base of her neck. A slow beat rippled beneath her skin, but it was steady enough that he didn't think she was in any immediate danger. Still, he needed to get her to shore and fast.
He threw his arm over her stomach, forcing her down and over his shoulder again, then onto his back. Her head rested against his back, arms draped over his shoulders. She was about his size but much lighter, which made it easier for him to keep his head above water. Despite this, he still had to expend more effort than he wanted to with his current blood supply.
Each paddle of his legs and stroke of his arms brought with it burning exhaustion in his muscles. The gauze covering his face peeled away, salt seeping into his wounds. He clenched his teeth, holding screams behind his lips. As close as they were now, they couldn't afford being caught by his inability to bear a little pain. I need... to be strong. He thought back to Kozuji and Senji, when they called him a weakling. Now more than ever. We can't fail. Not now.
The journey to shore proved arduous. He wasn't even sure if there was a shore. Tokyo was nothing more than a sinkhole now, a lake surrounded by concrete and housing the biggest violation of human rights since Unit 731. But his resolve did not waver. He had a goal in mind, two lives on the line, and more than a handful of dreams to fulfill.
He looked to the great steel wall surrounding the lakebed. How the hell am I supposed to get two people over this thing? he thought. Then again, nothing they had done today really made sense. This wasn't the most well-planned escape. They were running on whimsy, some melting pot of 'maybe we can do this' and 'why the hell not?' It amused him, almost, to think that they had come this far.
Conveniently, Ganta spotted a small ladder scaling the wall. It was definitely not wide enough for one person, and might not even hold the weight of two people at once. But it was something, a chance. And that's all that he needed right now.
He picked up his pace, stroking rapidly to get to shore. It took every ounce of strength he had to keep both himself and the girl unconscious on his back afloat. Every now and then, he would sink his head below to ease the pressure, letting the air and salt keep his back just above the surface. Then, he would resurface like a whale for gasps of air. He wasn't sure which method was physically harder, but it was more effective than collapsing from exhaustion and drowning. He had to stop and readjust Minatsuki's grasp on his neck once or twice; the increase in speed caused her weight to shift more often.
The steel wall edged closer, enough that he could see it through the murky water of the lake. Salt would sting his eyes with each plunge of his head, but he couldn't stop staring at the final stretch. All of the day's efforts were about to pay off.
He stretched out his hand, reaching for the ladder. The cold metal slipped from the moisture on his fingers. Don't give up now, he thought, reassuring his grip on one of the steps above him. You're there. You made it. Minatsuki's weight on his back made the climb harder, and she only slid backward as he tried to climb the ladder. How am I supposed to get her up there when she's off in cuckooland? He kept her left arm locked in place with his hand, other reaching up to an overhead bar.
A thought crossed his mind. He summoned what strength he could, lifting himself up. The gap between steps in the ladder was just bigger than his head. He pressed his chin into one of the rungs. It wasn't a great hold, but it would be enough for him to throw his arm up to the next step. He let go and reached up again, grabbing the step quickly. He slipped for a moment, but tightened his grip and stabilized. He pulled himself up again and repeated the same process.
Before he knew it, he had scaled most of the ladder. A cough echoed in his ear. Droplets sprayed on his neck with successive heaves. Is she awake? he asked himself.
She opened her eyes slowly, lids caught halfway over her irises. A groan escaped her throat. "Ganta?" she muttered. Her vision was still dark, but she could make out shapes well enough. Her dress, soaked from the lake, clung to her skin uncomfortably.
"Hang tight," Ganta answered. "We're almost there."
Her eyes fell shut again to fatigue. Her head was a clouded mess, racing to try and figure out what was going on. Where are we? she thought. What happened back there?
Ganta threw his arm over the last rung. He nudged his shoulder under her arm, trying to get her attention. "Hey," he whispered. "Do me a favor?"
She responded slowly. "What's up?"
"Hold onto the ladder." He grabbed her wrist, guiding her hand to the metal rods. She wrapped her fingers around it. She wasn't even sure if she could hold up her own weight right now, but she'd give it a shot. Ganta's voice came to her again. "I need you to hold on for just a few seconds. I'll pull you up."
She nodded with weary eyes. Why did she trust him so suddenly? He's just some crummy boy, Hummingbird's voice echoed in her head. He was supposed to be a fun plaything. You're actually falling for his bullshit?
He kept us alive, she answered. It's the least we can do for right now.
Tch. If you want to be a softie toward him again, fine. Just don't come crying to me when he breaks your little heart.
Minatsuki held onto the ladder tightly as Ganta slid out from under her. He climbed the rest of the ladder, falling onto his knees to catch his breath. Minatsuki wasn't faring as well: she was struggling to keep her grip, as her muscles had not yet recovered from their weakened state. "Don't you dare forget about me!" she shouted up the ladder. Part of her wanted him to forget. She'd wronged him in enough ways already, between the lying and almost trying to kill him.
Ganta leaned over the edge. Despite his exhaustion, he managed to smile. "Not a chance," he said, extending a hand.
She felt her face heat up. Such a simple gesture, but it meant much more to her. Even through everything she'd done to him earlier, he still wanted to help? She grabbed his hand. "Why... are you doing this?"
"Because we have to stick together, remember?" He pulled her up over the steel wall, and they both fell to the concrete.
She wrung out one of the ends of her dress. "So fucking what? You're going to forgive me so easily after I almost killed you back there?" She gripped the other end, wringing it dry like the first. "That doesn't make sense."
He chuckled. He felt like he needed to do something to lighten the mood. "Because that's not you."
She looked up, mouth slightly agape. She had told him about how the Branch affects people, about her... other side. But for him to claim that it wasn't her? Bullshit. Bullshit bullshit bullshit. "How can you say that?"
He shrugged. "Just call it a hunch."
She felt her blood heat up beneath her cheeks. No, she heard Hummingbird mutter. Don't fall for it. Just remember that he's like that old man. Like Yō-yō. Like everyone who ever tried to victimize you. But even through her words, she couldn't help but feel appreciative. She couldn't remember the last time someone treated her that way.
But we owe him now, don't we?
Nonsense. You saved him earlier. Consider yourselves even.
Ganta stood up. The sun cascaded down on their soaked bodies, a chilled breeze flowing through his hair. He stretched out his arms, basking in the warm sensations and inhaling a full breath of fresh air. He never thought he'd miss this. Being stuck in Deadman Wonderland made him miss a lot of the simple pleasures of life. He sighed in contentment. "I'd almost forgotten," he thought out loud, "what a beautiful day looked like."
He'd spent a week there; she'd been locked away for years. How could he talk? Minatsuki's eyes glistened in the sun. He was still so naive, carefree. Still just a child, at the end of the day. But there was something that she admired about his innocence. "Yeah," she muttered. "I can imagine." She rose to her feet, a half-faked smile on her face. She nudged him in the back. "Come on, let's see the sights."
A dissonant, distorted chord rang through the air, accented by a percussive, harmonic melody. Tamaki never did understand the guitarist's taste in music: loud, abrasive, necrotic. But he was good at what he did, and that was often all that mattered. In turn, Tamaki's office was brighter than his studio. He practically had to squint when he walked in. "So," the man said in a weary, tattered voice. "You have a couple freaks on the loose?"
"That's right," Tamaki affirmed. He sat calmly in his chair, legs crossed and hands in his lap. He brought his fingers up to his face, the tips of his thumbs resting on his chin. "I need you to round them up for me."
He smirked, running a hand through his long red hair. "What kinda coyotes chewed their own legs off that you need me to do the dirty work?" He strummed another chord. "I'm an Undertaker, the Ubermonk, not some babysitter."
Tamaki leaned back in his chair, resting his hands in his lap again. "There's a reason I require a man with your... talents, Genkaku."
Genkaku turned his attention to the knobs on the head of his guitar. That last chord sounded off, and he needed to correct it. "Yeah, and what's that? We talking Mockingbird on the run or somethin'?"
"Not quite that level, but close. The newcomer, Woodpecker, and his new friend Hummingbird." Tamaki adjusted his glasses, giving him time to focus. The very sound of their names sickened him right now. "We suspect they took down an armed guard on their way out."
Genkaku didn't respond, fixated on the offending off-key string. He plucked it a few times to make sure it was in tune with the others.
"He had a rifle infused with Worm Eater."
Genkaku twisted the knob hard. The string snapped instantly, lashing his knuckle. A thin stream of blood flowed down his hand; he did not wince. "The fuck are you talkin' about?" The Worm Eater was supposed to make them unstoppable, the anti-Gods to the Deadmen. Sure, the guard probably lacked proper training, but he still should have been able to subdue them.
"They killed a guard armed with Worm Eater," Tamaki replied. He rose from his chair, hands behind his back. "We lost tracking on their collars some time ago. We don't know where they are or where they're going. All we have..." He nudged his glasses back into place. "All we have are police reports and word of mouth." He walked over to Genkaku slowly and adjusted the alignment of the man's robe. "I won't tolerate failure again. So I'm sending the best."
Genkaku shoved his boss away and walked toward the back of the office. He reached into his pocket, pulling a cigarette to his lips. He lit the tip, puffing a few samplings of nicotine. The temporary rush was one of only two things that made him feel alive anymore. It was also the only way he could think. Somethin' about this doesn't seem right, he said to himself. He paced around the back corner, rubbing his chin. "What do you want me to do that the poison can't?"
Tamaki sighed. He dared not tell anyone but his most trusted Undertaker about this. He strolled to the great window overlooking his theme park of a prison. "I told you already, the collars aren't tracking them." The thought was nauseating. "They've probably malfunctioned."
Genkaku stopped his pacing and stifled a laugh to a chuckle. "You're shittin' me, right? Both of them at once? Damn, this is too convenient."
Tamaki spun around quickly. "You think I want them out on the streets, spreading the truth about our little operation here?" If all those secrets surfaced... they'd be shut down for good, and with nothing to show for it. All that research gone to waste... "Besides, there are little birdies talking of a plan to escape. We must make an example of these two."
"So get a damn bounty hunter," Genkaku ordered. "You hired me to watch Deadmen, not hunt them."
"What's the difference?" Tamaki fidgeted with a pen laying on his desk, clicking it back and forth. It was a nervous twitch he had picked up recently, an irrational comfort. He certainly needed it right now. "I'm asking you to do your job where others failed."
A phone rang on Tamaki's desk. He pressed a small button, bringing up a translucent screen. A guard stood on the other end. "Sir, apologies for the interruption..."
That voice..., Tamaki pondered. Why are you so familiar?
"...here to see you."
Wait. What did he say? "I'm sorry, can you say that again? I didn't quite catch that."
"I have the watchman who was on camera duty when the fugitives escaped. I brought him here to see you." The pleading screams of the guard could be heard, muffled through his helm and by the distance from the microphone.
"Right," Tamaki muttered. "Bring him in." He closed the screen.
"The hell is that about?" Genkaku asked.
"A friend. The watchman who didn't do his job." He snickered. "Would you... care to show him how we handle laziness around here?"
Genkaku flashed a smile. He never turned down a chance at saving a poor soul.
The bookcase in Tamaki's office slid open, revealing the steel hallway leading from the Director's chambers to this secret chamber. The guard from before was carrying his companion in by the ropes binding his wrists. "No! Please!" the prisoner cried. "Have mercy! I didn't know! I couldn't have known!"
Tamaki walked over, a coy smile etched on his face. He delicately removed the guard's helmet. The man beneath was nothing more than a blubbering shell now. Tears streamed down his face, the realization of death slowly dawning on him. "So..." Tamaki began, squatting down to look his traitor in the eye. "You were on duty when my little pets escaped, is that correct?"
The man didn't respond. He sniveled a few tears back, but made no other sound.
"I'll take that as a yes," Tamaki said. Genkaku walked over to the man, guitar drawn. "Tell me," Tamaki continued, "have you met our dear friend Genkaku? He's our resident spiritual guide, of sorts. You might even call him a monk."
Genkaku sneered. "The Ubermonk." He flipped a switch on the back of his guitar's neck. The components swiveled and turned, shifting into new positions. The headstock split open, revealing a gun barrel built into the neck. The body made room for a trigger and grip. Genkaku pulled a small purple bead from his pocket - matching the ones on his neck - and clicked it into the chamber.
"But you can call him," Tamaki went on, "your executioner."
The man burst into wails. "No! Please, I've never done anything wrong before! Give me another chance and I won't let you down again! Just... please, let me live!"
Tamaki gripped the man's chin and brought his face up. He peered into the man's bloodshot eyes. The man peered back; he saw nothing resembling a soul. "Sorry," Tamaki said. "But that's not how things work around here." He released the man's face and rose to his full stature. "You must be made an example of how we tolerate failure. Goodbye, and thank you for your service."
Genkaku pulled the trigger, silencing the man's cries for a case. A rush of pleasure raced down his spine, much stronger than anything the nicotine could provide. Another soul saved... but it wasn't enough. He needed more. And Tamaki had already given him the targets.
"Now, Genkaku." Tamaki ran his fingers along the man's slender shoulders. "Tell me that you have a taste for more. You wouldn't turn down a chance to satiate your lust for death, would you?"
Genkaku snickered. "You want them back dead, then?"
"No. I prefer them alive, if possible." Tamaki returned to the view. "Although we can scavenge whatever's left of them if an... accident were to happen."
Yō's eyes widened beneath his mask. Is he... is he going after them? Dammit! He gave a sharp salute."Am I dismissed sir?"
"Hm?" Tamaki looked up at the other guard still here. "Oh, of course! Please, leave us."
Yō walked back into the hallway. The bookcase door slid shut behind him. He pulled off his helmet and sank to the floor. What could he do now? He had to find a way to get to Minatsuki, to protect her from this madman... if that was even possible. But how could he get to her if he was stuck in here?
He thought back to his operation earlier that day. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the stack of Cast Point cards. If he was lucky, they'd still have his entire stash on them. Whether it could buy off his sentence, he wasn't sure. Still, it was worth a shot.
He rose from the ground and sprinted down the hallway. He had to find a vendor.
It's only a matter of time, you know.
A matter of time until what?
Until you lose your temper again. Or he says something that just jabs at you the wrong way. And then I'll come out again. And trust me, I won't fail this time.
No. You're wrong about him. He's different, I can tell!
Please. You're following your heart into the lion's den. I'm here to save you, remember? That's why you created me, all those year's ago...
And I don't need you anymore! I can look out for myself.
Is that so? I'd love to see you try. Maybe you can. But I doubt it. Danger will come knocking at your doorstep again. One wrong step into a back alley, one misspoken word to the wrong man, and you'll be stuck with no way out. And then... I shall return.
Try me. I'll show you. I'll show everyone.
Then I shall sit back and watch, ready to take over when necessary. This is my body, too, don't forget that. Because the second you do, you'll be vulnerable. And that's when you'll find me the most virulent.
