I told you this wasn't going to be fluffy.
But on the bright side, early update, just like I promised! And this chapter's a little longer than usual too. :)
Random, skippable note: I was working on the presumption that 1 munny equals 1 yen, and therefore 100 munny equals roughly 1 American dollar. So, um. Yup. Enjoy!
Isa is vaguely aware of voices somewhere in his vicinity.
"What was I supposed…passed out…"
"...can't risk…should've left him…"
He knows he should try to pay more attention because it sounds like something that concerns his immediate well-being, but his head feels like it's swimming in jello. He can gather that there are maybe two or three people involved in the conversation, and from what he can understand none of them are as concerned with his welfare as they are with saving face.
"We can't have him snooping around…"
The voices are still slipping in and out of his consciousness, like bits of white, crackling noise. With some effort, he strains himself towards a state of coherence.
"The public wouldn't take it lightly…he's injured."
"I don't give a damn! He's a liability…have to move him."
The voices fade in and out of clarity, as does Isa's wakefulness. It occurs to him that he should probably say something in his own defense.
"Don't…don't I get a say in this?"
Isa coughs at the dryness in his throat, the only sound in the otherwise palpably silent room. For the first time he tries blinking his eyes open, and for a moment all he sees is bright white before it fades and gives way to three looming faces, each adorned with a distinct version of a horrified look.
Two of the figures are wearing the castle's signature guard uniform. He's quite sure the one with the dreds is the one who apprehended him—he would've remembered if it had been the other guard, who is sporting a rather distinguishable set of scars and an eye patch.
The third figure is dressed plainly in a lab coat, and is the first to break the tension, "How are you feeling?"
The question feels obligatory, not at all sincere. Isa can't help it as a shiver goes up his spine, can't shake the impression that he could reach out to these three and touch nothing, brush aside air instead of flesh. He can't seem to place it—he'd say he gets the sense he's in the presence of ghosts, but even this isn't an accurate enough description.
"I would feel a lot better if I wasn't here."
The figure with the eye patch responds first, "Then you probably shouldn't have been sneaking around, ya' little shit."
His arms are crossed and Isa can tell he's not in a good mood. He makes a quick scan of the room and notes that the door is clear across the room. He considers the fact that it's closed and quite probably locked.
"Are you even planning on letting me go?"
Isa smirks and is pleased to see Mr. Eyepatch's one visible eye twitch.
The man in the coat merely chuckles, "To the point. I like that."
"Can you just scold me already then, so I can go home?"
The man pauses for a second, clearly choosing his words carefully, "See, it's not as simple as that. We, ah…have to make sure…that is…there are certain things we're not really ready to release to the general public, and we have to know what you've seen. A matter of public security, you understand."
Isa's eyes narrow—he doesn't like this. He's pretty sure these three are up to no good.
"…I don't know anything."
The three men trade glances, obviously all thinking the same thing.
The one with the coat wrings his hands, "We can't really be certain of that, now can we?"
It is at this point that Isa realizes they have absolutely no intention of letting him go.
He makes a move to bolt for the door, but before he can even stand up, the two guards have pinned him by the arms and slammed him backwards onto his back.
"Dammit! This just had to happen tonight."
The three men exchange phrases of panic and frustration as they attempt to subdue him—Isa is so busy struggling, kicking, anything he can do to get free that he can barely tell who's saying what anymore. With each line of exchange however, he becomes more and more terrified of the situation.
"What if Ansem finds out?"
"Fuck that. The Superior will be pissed if anything screws up his plans for tonight."
"Won't anyone notice if he goes miss—ow! Little shit kicked me."
"No one will look twice for a no-name like him when the mayor's own daughter goes missing."
And then Isa completely loses it.
"You can't do that!"
In all actuality, Isa doesn't give a damn about the mayor's daughter—at this point he doesn't even care about himself. All he can think of is that of all the people the mayor could've hired tonight to look after his kid, it had to be Lea.
He hears laughter above him, a hollow cacophony that sinks into his chest and turns to lead.
"Ask us if we have the hearts to care."
This is when everything culminates, all the regret for letting Lea leave the house, and for being completely and utterly useless—he lets all his frustration out with a scream.
"Hold…still…"
"Geez, this kid doesn't give up."
One of the guards takes a moment to unwrap the ascot from around his neck and gag Isa with it; this is when he sees it, glinting in the artificial light of the ceiling fluorescents. Isa doesn't even have the space within him to wonder where the man might've pulled a scalpel from.
"Give him the damn sedative, or I swear I'll knock him out myself."
Then it's a flurry of images, of curtains of blonde hair and white lab sleeves as he rocks violently back and forth against their hold. The two guards exert more force and he's flattened again, back straight and arms trapped at his sides. When he feels a pinprick of pain on his forearm, he nearly chokes on the gag.
This is bad, and Isa knows it; he tries to put up more of a struggle, but he can already feel the sedative taking hold of his faculties. The third man reaches out and touches his face, steadies himself for what Isa can only assume is the first incision. His thumb rests right beneath Isa's eye, and suddenly Isa is struggling to hold back tears because this is just wrong, wrong, wrong.
"I was in need of a new test subject anyway."
Isa feels the cold steel press right above his left eyebrow, but what terrifies him more is the way the man's thumb presses into him, how he doesn't even realize how violating this feels.
In that moment, all Isa can do is send up an apology—
I'm sorry Lea. I'm so, so sorry.
And then the first slash hits and everything goes red.
Lea has stopped looking for Kairi.
He knows exactly where she is, so it's not a problem (after all, it really isn't that hard to spot her sneakers peeking out from underneath the curtains). And it's not like he doesn't honestly like playing with her—he just needs a bit of a break, so he's taking advantage of this rare quiet moment.
Currently he's sitting on a plush 500,000 munny sofa, looking outside through the double glass doors and contemplating the fact that a freaking four-year old has an outdoor pool and he doesn't. The house is huge and shaped like a bracket, so it encompasses the pool and Lea can see part of the roof overlooking the water. He has the sudden urge to climb onto the roof and jump into the deep end, but the pool is just far enough for this to be a really stupid idea—it is, however, just close enough to tempt that stupid idea.
Lea debates whether or not to try this for a good two minutes, and is startled out of his thoughts by the sound of glass shattering in another room. He catches a sudden jerk in the curtains and hears a tiny gasp lost in the fabric and cloth.
"Stay here, Kairi."
"But Mr. Lea…"
"Stay put."
He slides up and off the couch, shoulders hunched and arms out. Noiselessly, he moves across the room and exits into the parlor, practically gliding through the hall. Here he takes note of the smashed remainders of a vase at the foot of its decorative pedestal. Cautiously he bends down and picks up one of the fragments, turning it in his hands. Perhaps it fell on its own?
Somehow this notion doesn't sit well with Lea, and he turns his attention towards the entrance.
He edges over to the door and examines it—there doesn't seem to be any signs of forced entry. In fact, the lock is still active and in place. Lea knows that this should calm him, but it somehow only disturbs him further.
Then, as if right on cue, he hears Kairi's screams back in the den room. His legs switch to automatic, carrying him back two rooms prior, only to find that the lights have been turned off and he can't see a thing.
"Kairi?"
He doesn't get an immediate answer, which sends his nerves into a panic. He tries flipping the light switch, but the room stays dark.
"Whoever's there, answer me!"
The silence he receives is unnerving—Lea can literally feel the hairs on the nape of his neck prickling straight. He can't even begin to think of how he's going to explain this to the mayor. Cautiously, he ventures forward, only to hit his shin on the couch.
"Sh—!" he stumbles forward and grabs the arm rest of the couch before he can fall over completely , curse cut short as he accidently bites his own tongue.
There is a part of him that feels incredulous, a part of him that can't connect what's happening with reality. Ten minutes ago he was playing hide-and-seek with Kairi. He's supposed to be able to take care of her, and ten minutes ago that had seemed like a relatively easy task. It has never occurred to him that something like this could happen in the span of a few minutes.
Oh dear lord, Kairi. Forget how the mayor is going to react—a deep sickness settles into Lea's stomach. How has he let this happen? She's only four years old, and god only knows what she's going through at the moment. The worst part is realizing that whoever is responsible is still roaming free somewhere.
As soon as this last thought goes through him, Lea tenses, suddenly very aware of his immediate surroundings. His fingers grip the couch harder, itching for his Frisbees. Slowly, he lets go and turns around.
Lea doesn't even have the time to react when something slams into his chest, knocking him back hard into the couch behind him. His head hits the arm rest on the farther end of the couch, and a thousand curse words instantly spring into Lea's mind, eyes clenching shut. All he can manage with the wind knocked out of him is a garbled outcry outlined with a hiss of pain.
The weight above him feels vaguely human, and he can feel the grip of two hands on his shoulders. He opens his eyes to see blue hair, a familiar mouth pulled into a frown.
"Holy—! Isa, you—don't—oh…oh god…"
And there in the darkness, Lea sees it: a red, jagged 'X' scratched across Isa's face, still fresh.
Lea bites back the bile in his throat, swallows until the air is lodged in his chest—he imagines this is how Isa must have felt when he found out about the tattoos, only a thousand times worse.
He moves to reach up, but finds that Isa has placed more pressure on his shoulders than is comfortable, and finds himself rebounding back into the couch cushions.
"Isa stop, get off."
Lea doesn't know why a deep fear is starting to fill the pit of his stomach—this is Isa. He's used to Isa's stares, but they aren't usually this…intense. At least, not like this—when Isa looks at him it's with a certain focus, like he's looking at the whole of him, for what he is. Now his focus seems farther, like he's trying to look past him instead, trying to search for something. Isa's eyes are steadfast and unblinking, bright despite the darkness, and…and…yellow.
Like clockwork, a gear shifts in Lea's mind and hits something, winds backwards until it can do nothing but break. With characteristic abandon, he thrusts his knee upwards until it connects with solid muscle. He feels the grip on his shoulders loosen slightly, just enough to give him the leverage he needs to push the other boy onto the floor. His instincts take over, and he bounds over the back of the couch.
He doesn't even make it five feet before he's hit by an inhuman amount of strength, with what feel like sharp claws digging into his back.
A scream of pure agony punctures its way out of Lea's throat—definitely not Isa.
Lea's breathing comes in sharp intervals, "What…are…you…"
The silence is the very last thing that Lea remembers.