The basement of the club had dual purposes, the Doll reflected, as he surveyed his domain. The obvious was the playground of the very wealthy and very debauched; there was a creative variety of BDSM equipment set up around the dark room, all lovingly tended to, all available for the right price. It was frequently in use for such purposes, the thunderous music upstairs covering the sounds from below.

The other purpose was much more sinister, and much less publicized.

Equipment that could be used for pleasure could be turned to produce dire pain as well, after all. The Doll had made this his realm, employing a sadistic sense of humor and an intimate knowledge of agony to become Fudomine's primary inquisitioner. He looked harmless when not wearing the surgical mask that was one of his trademarks; delicate, almost feminine features, deep blue eyes, thick black hair worn shoulder-length. Ibu Shinji was hardly the sort of person one would find threatening if one bumped into him on the street.

Truth be told, not even most of the local yakuza found him threatening. He wasn't tall or broad in the shoulders; when he spoke it was a quiet monotone, a stream-of-consciousness monologue that went on and on and ON AND ON until people either tuned him out or he decided he didn't have anything else to say. Most discounted him completely.

A lot of the time they found out the hard way why he wasn't to be discounted.

He went about the meticulous task of cleaning the tools of his trade; the needles that could gouge out eyes without effort, the tiny little scalpels that were marvelous for making incisions that stung under the application of a mild acid, the rough iron shackles that kept his victims where they belonged while he worked. He was a fastidious sort of person, and disliked a dirty working environment. Pity he couldn't do much about the permanent bloodstains on the floor.

He heard the door slam, his head jerking up and a hand reaching for the needles..though the brash, rough footsteps marked the incoming person as Kamio. He relaxed, placid eyes observing the Neko as he slid into the basement. "Damn, doll, don't you ever come out of here?" The redhead's incessant use of the pet name had given Shinji his yakuza handle. He didn't mind. It beat a lot of the other things he could have been called.

"Why should I come out of here? I like it here...it's quiet down here except when there's someone screaming...I like the screams, though...they're nice screams but only when I'm causing them...well, I like it when Tachibana-sama causes them too because he's good like that...I want to be good like that...they never listen to me until it's too late and then they scream...I like the screams...they're good screams...I should make you scream...no, I can't do that, Sanada-sama would hurt me..."

Kamio silenced the stream of words with a kiss on those pretty lips. "You're not allowed to make me scream, doll. Save the needles for the ones that deserve it, okay?" The redhead and the dark-eyed one were the oldest of friends, former lovers, tighter than most people who were actually related to one another. They worked together so much that it was almost expected that if you saw one, the other couldn't be too far behind.

Shinji sighed, reaching for his surgical mask and slipping it back into place. "You're no fun, Aki...you'd be so much fun to tie up and make scream...oh, that's right, I forgot, you're a prude...that's why you live with a big chunk of ice...he's a really hot chunk of ice though...I bet he's good in bed...if he ever actually fucks...does he ever actually fuck you, Aki?...he's probably really boring..."

"Good god, Shin!" Kamio had gone as red as his hair, much to Shinji's amusement. The Neko was notorious for being the world's biggest prude, in spite of being one of the few yakuza with a permanent live-in lover. The mere mention of bondage was enough to get Kamio to blush like it was nobody's business...which was why Shinji insisted on doing it on a regular basis. He, at least, could get away with it without a throwing knife embedding itself in his gut.

"You're cute when you blush, Aki." The door opened as they headed back out into Sinpathy, the Doll falling silent as the outside world made its presence known. The mask was in place, the walls of silence were up. The lull between victims was to be enjoyed, after all.