Trauma for Truth: Part I

Several hours following Mikogami's stabbing…

Dusting off his brown fedora, Saito crouched to inspect the fresh puddle of blood. Lamps had been set up to provide much-needed light for the investigators combing the room which was otherwise illuminated by a single light bulb dangling from the ceiling. The way the light shined off the blood meant it had been shed recently and had not had time to dry.

It was clear the owner of said puddle had been dragged from its origin, as a crudely smeared trail of bodily fluids and organs led out from the only exit. There was no corpse to be found among said entrails. The trail went cold just a few feet down the hallway like they were in too much of a rush to dispose of the body and cleanup was out of the question.

Dozens of glass shards littered the soaked floor of the crime scene, many of which were riffled beneath and scrounged around a casket, which appeared to be the origin of said shards as it was filled part way with them.

Given its close proximity to where the victim had presumedly drawn their last breath and that its outer edges were coated blood presumably after escaping in a panic before his or her captors put an end to them, it was logical to assume that it played some role in the struggle and as such was labeled for impending forensic study.

The portly detective tilted his head, drawing his sights to his long-time friend and colleague, a veteran forensic scientist by the name of Shouta Shiro. They had worked together for nearly ten of their twenty-five year-long careers, solving hundreds of cases side by side over the course of their relationship.

"Well, Shiro," Saito began, "what have we found?"

Wiping off his glasses with a fresh pair of medical gloves, Shiro gave his report. "Not much to say now really," he said. "From the looks of things, the blood has only been here for around seventeen hours. All we can do now is bring a sample to the lab and run some testing."

"Hmph," Saito grunted, rising to his feet and flipping the fedora back on his brown crew-cut. "Guess we have a long night ahead of ourselves, then."

"Sir!" called out one of his newer associates, Akio Densuke, a recent and overly enthusiastic law school graduate. He rushed out of the frozen cubicle, nearly stumbling over his own excitement. "I found this tape in a VCR! It was hidden in one of the walls!"

"Goddammit!" Saito sourly expressed, regurgitating his displeasure. "How many FUCKING times do I have to tell you? Put on a pair of gloves before you touch anything!"

"Oooohhhh…shhhhit," he stammered, regret secreting through his dumbfounded expression. "um…my bad…"

"Ugh, never mind," Saito muttered, rolling his eyes. "Did you attempt to play it?"

"Uh…no."

The veteran detective inhaled heavily through his nostrils, exhaling as he slid his latex-gloved hand down his face.
The sky is blue…the grass is green… He muttered to himself as he pinched his nose. His deep breathing exercises did little to calm him. "Hand it here."

The newbie complied pupils submitting away from his superior.

He opened the top and found that the ribbon had been cut in two. "Please tell me it was like this before you pulled it from the VCR…"

"I…didn't really check…"

Annoyed and unamused, Saito slapped his face and dragged his hand downward, swaying his head in disbelief. "You're fired."

Stammering to say a word, Saito had none of it. He hushed the youth with the raise of his hand and pointed towards the exit.

"But I-"

Saito's look grew more stern. The kid knew then the decision was final and it was best to not cause a scene if he had any hope of returning for a second chance in the force.

Defeated and despondent, he took his leave, wiping some emotion from his eyes with his sleeve.

Saito looked to the heavens shortly after he left, hands firmly slapped to his sides. "God, save me from these damn amateurs..." How the hell did this kid graduate from law school…?

He was then met with a strong pat on the back by Shiro. "Heh heh, life is never too easy, now is it, Fukushima?"

"Nope, not at all."

"Let me bag the tape for you." Shiro motioned his thumb over his shoulder. "I believe #87 found something that might be of interest to you. You should speak with her."

He handed Shiro the tape. "Will do."

Normally, a member of the Discipline Squad would have accompanied Saito and his task force on their more delicate operations just in case shit was to go down. For some strange reason though, the Squad, as well as their flamboyant Ashikabi, Natsuo Ichinomi, hadn't been heard from at all in the past two days and were reported missing no more than sixteen hours ago.

This, thankfully, was not public knowledge, as if the word were to get out about it, escape attempts would be mercilessly more frequent and chaotic. Minaka made sure of that, blaming the squad for the current string of murders and kidnappings to install a grander sense of fear in the public if they dared try and leave the capital. Granted, Saito wasn't a fan of their brutal methods when it came to keeping order, but it did keep things peaceful for the most part, in his eyes at least.

So long as he wasn't the one who had to clean up after them it was all good.

He'd worked with the three of them regularly, #104, Haihane, in particular. He found her to be the most tolerable, as she kept quiet and focused on the task at hand for the most part. If only she weren't so damn forgetful…

The other two were the exact opposite in his mind. #105, Benitsubasa, or "The Basa-Bitch" as he liked to call her under his breath, was too cocky for her own good. Her self-centered and immature attitude had no place in his line of work let alone his threshold of hearing. On or off duty for that matter. Her constant bitchiness really cut deep into his self-control and coupling that with all the pin-headed amateurs he's had to deal with over the past few months didn't help matters either. That rookie he had just fired got off lucky given how much crap he had dealt with.

#04, Karasuba, was…well…let's just say she enjoyed being around the crime scenes too much and leave it at that.
He looked off into the distance where a crowd of his taskforce had suddenly gathered.

Kaho; Sekirei #87, was crouched at the wall alongside two other investigators, eyeing something that was not really noticeable from the distance Saito was standing at.

Kaho was the Sekirei of Saito's half-cousin, Oosumi Orihiko. Said Ashikabi had always tried to assist him in any way possible, and given the circumstances with the now-vanished Discipline Squad, he was more than willing to allow Kaho to take their place for the time being. That, and given #87's strong desire to fight their feared and respected leader, she was more willing to help in hopes of finding her.

The crowd dispersed once Saito hunkered down to her just as she turned to face him. "Find something out of the ordinary?"

She took a nod, pointing her latex gloved finger at the object of interest; a peephole. "Take a look."

Saito peered into the hole. Inside, all he could see was a chair, and a cassette player resting on the seat.
"Someone was watching the events of the struggle take place through this peephole," she concluded. "Convenient that it was drilled in just the right spot, so whoever was looking through it could watch the inevitable bloodbath."

"Or maybe even to sit and wait to clean up the mess without anyone seeing them." He pulled away from the eyehole, glancing over his shoulder at the crime scene. Sure enough, the hole lined up perfectly with everything noteworthy, front and center.

"Any way we can get in there?" he asked, turning back to his cousin's beloved.

She shook her head. "Not without breaking the wall down. Whoever was there must have locked up the passage leading to it since I had that group who were with me look for any clue as to how we can get in." Rising to her feet, she reached over her shoulder grasping at the hilt of her weapon of choice; a naginata. "Just give me the word, and the wall will crumble."

"Finally somebody who actually consults me before doing something they might regret!" Saito expressed in relieved satisfaction.

She giggled at his enthusiastic outburst. "Hehe, glad to be of service. I'll do my best to please."

He motioned his hand to call one of his fellow colleagues over. "You," he addressed the young man, "use that scanner of yours to detect any evidence on the wall. We gotta knock it down, and I'd rather not damage any more evidence.
The last thing we need is the wall crumbling down and breaking that tape in there."

The man saluted. "Right away!"

A purple line beaming from the device swept up and down the stone wall a few times. Moments later, he pulled it away and inspected the results.

"Find anything?" he asked.

The device beeped. "It's clear."

Saito gestured back to Kaho. "You heard him, do the thing."

"Certainly."

She reached behind her, grasping the pole of her naginata.

"Please stand back, Fukushima-san." She said, slowly drawing it into tenure.

Saito and his task force backed up several feet to license the Sekirei some much-needed space.

Kaho clamped her eyes shut, filling her lungs with a deep breath before focusing her sights on the wall. Twirling her weapon, she raised it above her head, the spinning escalating in speed until it was fast enough to rival that of a helicopter's blades. With a vocal grunt, #87 slammed the hilt into the ground at full force without warning, sending a shockwave rippling throughout the room. Said shockwave wasn't really all that powerful, only slightly on par with a swift gust of wind.

Letting out a relaxed sigh, she brought the elegant armament to her side, standing it next to her. A few seconds later, the wall gave way, crumbling down just inches from her feet in a dusty pile.

Saito approached. "Thanks, Kaho, but was all the flamboyance REALLY necessary?"

"It was. If I hadn't done that, we would have risked the wall falling upon any evidence which may have been inside," she explained. "What I did was channel my energies in such a way that the wall would fall outward towards me rather than inward, thus preventing such a thing from happening."

"Ah, I see." Sekirei…always finding some excuse to flaunt and show off their powers...Typical.

Given the darkness of the hidden room when they glanced through the hole, neither Saito nor Kaho were able to notice that the tape recorder was on the lap an eerily creepy white-faced marionette with red swirls painted on its prominent cheeks, it's dark clothing blended in with that of the room's pitch black tone.

Saito reached his hand out to grab the tape and was met with an infantile giggle erupting from the doll's clicking mouth as he inched closer. Slightly startled, he leaped back. Kaho poked the mannequin with the blunt end of her weapon to make sure touching it was safe. After three pokes, she swiftly swiped the tape from the puppet's classy trousers. Nothing happened. She handed the tape player to Saito, who opened its compartment. No tape was inside.

"Huh…" he sighed. "Why go through the trouble of hiding a tape recorder here if no message was in it to begin with…?"
Shiro approached once more, handing the detective a cassette tape contained in a zip-sealed plastic bag. "I found this buried under some of the broken glass while you and Kaho were speaking." He said. "It was inside another one of those tape recorders, but the damn thing's fried."

"Thank you.." He takes the tape from his hands. "Perhaps this will give us a better grasp on what's happened…"

He snapped the cassette inside and pressed the play button.

XXX-17 Hours Ago, Moments Before Mikogami's Death-XXX

Hayato Mikogami struggled to his feet as the girl raced off to help #107, still spitting out water and occasional bits of vomit. The two might expect money from him, and Mutsu would probably pressure him into repaying them. He was honorable like that, usually to his own detriment. Not that it was too much of a problem: money was something he had in abundance, and a modest, or maybe even slightly large, monetary compensation for saving his life would be a reasonable method of gratitude.

Suddenly, he became aware of a slight level of heaviness on his right side. There was something in his pocket? Reaching into it, Mikogamie pulled out a small cassette tape, damp from his time in the glass box but appearing to be functional. Two words:Left Drawer were written on it in black, he approached the nearby desk that sat innocuously in the corner and opened the drawer. Inside was a tape recorder, obviously meant for him. He pressed the "Play" button.

"Hello, Mikogami," a raspy voice, which Mikogami recognized as the same one from that marionette, said."If you are hearing this, then Yukari and Shiina have completed their game and gave you another chance at life. However, now that their game is over, your real test begins."

My game? Mikogami wondered. What was the voice talking about...and why was he feeling so light-headed right now? He felt cramps, and he was starting to shake all over in spite of the temperature of his body climbing. What was this? A side effect from his near-death experience?

"I am sure you have been feeling rather angst-ridden and nauseated. Cramped…light-headed…stressed, even. You may have written this off as simply a…biological response to the life-threatening situation you were in moments ago, but that is only half true. These symptoms are also a side-effect of a slow-acting nerve agent coursing through your veins, which can kill within two hours."

I've been poisoned?! Mikogami wanted to scream, but no words or sounds left his mouth as he continued to listen to the dooming tape.

"There is no hospital close by which can treat you in time, you are all but doomed to die here. However, I have taken the incentive to hide one vial of the antidote somewhere in this room with you. I have left you a single picture inside the desk you saw right after you picked up this cassette player, hinting as to where it can be found. Better find it quickly, though, as your organs will begin to liquefy in a matter of minutes. Live or die, the choice…is yours…"

XXX-Present Time-XXX

The tape's inner workings then hummed to a sudden halt.

"This is all a game to him. No worse than putting a puzzle together." Saito remarked, slanting his eyebrows.

"Looks like it," Shiro added. "The Demon Ashikabi, Death Sekirei, and Ashikabi of the South…all swiped out from under our noses…damn…"

"You didn't happen to find this picture the guy was talking about, did you?"

Another associate approached. "He didn't, but I did."

He handed Saito the photo: an x-ray of someone's body. A vial was inside the stomach. At the bottom of the photograph read the name of said individual: Sekirei #107, Shiina.

"Hmph," Shiro exhaled. "I guess this explains the mess."

"That it does," Saito agreed. "And given the fact that #05 suddenly dropped dead the other day, I guess we know who won…"

He continued. "Has anyone heard from the Demon and Reaper in the past day?"

"Not at all," Shiro replied. "The last time they were heard from was when they went to a clinic on the other side of the city yesterday morning. According to the documentation, they were slated to see Dr. Lawrence Gordon, who also seems to have vanished along with them."

Slumping his shoulders, the detective blew a heavy sigh through his tight, cracked lips. "Great, now we have four Ashikabi's and a doctor missing in action." He reached for his cellphone. "Better let the families know. Miss Takami and The Game Master aren't going to be happy about this…"

"What about #07?" Shiro asked. "Even though she wasn't winged by him, she needs to be notified about Mikogami as soon as possible."

"I'll personally pay the poor girl a visit right now. Shiro, I'm entrusting you take charge of our investigation for the time being. I'm going to get some of my guys down to that clinic to set up a crime scene in the mean time."

Shiro nodded. "You can count on me."

"I'll go with you," Kaho stated. "Given her status as a discarded number, who knows how unstable her mind will become after hearing the news."

Saito patted her on the shoulder just as he dialed Takami. "Thanks, kid. I'm glad I have someone I can count on watching my back…"

She bowed her head slightly. "The pleasure is all mine, Fukushima-san. I would be honored."

Saito raised the phone to his ear, the dial-tone clearing.

XXXXXX

The chirping beep of the MBI's head researcher's phone vibrated in the pitch black, dungeon-like holding cell. Across the room, a dim spotlight buzzed to a flickering prominence.

Takami Sahashi's eyelids ever so slightly cracked open. Groaning, she lifted her aching head from the old table, coughing as she inhaled some dust. How had she gotten here? She didn't remember anything past going home after a stressful day, taking a quick swig of scotch, then flopping onto her bed and letting sweet sleep take her over. So why was she here…wherever here was?
"Whe-…where am I?" she thought aloud, grazing a palm over her intoxicated cranium.

Oh, damn, she muttered to herself. The scotch must have been spiked with something…

That was the only explanation she could think of, and it would explain her headache to a degree. But why? Foul play from a particularly unscrupulous Ashikabi, perhaps? Izumi Higa would stoop to something like this, but going after someone as important as Takami would be too risky, even for him. So who would…

She motioned to stand, and a slight spark of an electrical current pulsed a painful spasm through her ankle. She let out a small yelp as it seared a minor burn into her talus. She shifted her sleep-gooed gaze to the floor to find herself cuffed to the wall by a shackle and chain.

…it can't be...why would he be here of all places after so long?

*Bzzzzzzzt!

The static ceased Takami's musings. Jerking her head to the direction of the noise with spontaneous instinct, she saw that it was a small television set. The screen finally cleared up,

…Jigsaw.

"Hello, Takami," it said."I want to play a game."

Takami remained silent and listened, taking only shallow breaths in the damp.

"Ever since you became a mother, and likely even before that, you have been a very secretive woman. You failed to inform either of your children of your occupation as a high-ranking MBI scientist, outright lied to them, and genuinely refused to give them information that they were all but entitled to. Through this, you endangered their lives, as well as the lives of others. Now, you must learn to stop hiding the truth in order to save your own…"

She let out a sneering grumble.

Takami got a little angry at this remark. What was a puppet of all things to question what she did and did not tell her children?

…yet a small part of her felt a pang of guilt at the puppet's damnation. But that mattered not, as she was a good provider of their material needs. That was enough to say she was a good mother, and no one would dare tell her otherwise because she knows what she's talking about.

"In order to tell the truth, you must first realize the consequences for withholding it."

She began to tug at the chain with her hands and was met with yet another nasty shock for her efforts.

*Click

The loud boom of the locked door's tumblers sprung loose. Takami's thoughts came to a sudden halt with all the grace of a traffic accident. A rusty creaking soon followed as a bright light shone through the crack of the slowly opening door. The sudden change in luminosity blinded Takami temporarily as she used the desk to hoist herself back to the chair. She raised her forearm to her eyes as they adjusted to the distortion. Despite not seeing anyone at the moment, she knew there had to be multiple individuals as she could hear an abnormal pattern of footsteps. Perhaps they were here to unlock the shackle? That would be wishful thinking, unlikely as it was.

Though her pupils stung when she peered in front of her, she was able to make out an outline of three figures eclipsing the light. Each wore stomach-turningly hideous pig masks and wrestling robes, though it was still too dark to really make out the color from the distance they were at.

The two on the left and right halted their movement, but the individual in the center, who also happened to be the shortest of the three, continued forth.

Filtering the air through her nostrils, Takami sat there sweating, though closely observing the approaching person's movements as they came closer stopping inches before the table, and crossed their arms.

The swine inclined its head down to the captive researcher.

"Hello, Takami," the figure said, its voice altered in a similar fashion as the demon doll from earlier.

The Sahashi matron kept quiet; an ill-amused look of disappointment demoting her once frightened expression. But why? Perhaps she was still feeling a buzz from the drugged scotch?

"…So tell me," the robed character went on, "are you ready to be truthful for once in your life?"

"You want some truth?" Takami snickered, smirking. "I'll give you some truth: you're a horrible actor."

The figure took a step back at this statement. "W-what are you talking about?!"

"Pfft. Oh cut the crap, Yukari. I know it's you." she boldly declared. "Do you honestly think for one second that I can't tell when I'm in the presence of my own daughter? That little strut you did and incline of your body as you just crossed your arms there was a dead giveaway. Now take that filthy thing off and address me properly!" She shouted, slamming her fist.

Unsure what to make of the situation, with a curl of the neck, 'Yukari' peered back at 'her' subordinates, glancing over the shoulder. The two observing Pigheads glanced at each other briefly before focusing their beady little eyes back at the unfolding scene, not uttering a single word while their captive continued to goad 'her' on.

"Well, I'm waiting."

"Hmph," she scoffed. "Fine…"

The accused removed their gloves, tossing them aside. She dug her lengthy feminine nails into the rubber cheek of her mask, peeling it off her visage, and confirming Takami's suspicion.

"…mom."