Hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter as much as the last one.
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A woman screamed.
A second man, this one taller wearing a black ski mask, burst into the room through the back door. He wasn't just holding a gun like the old man though – no he had two machine styled guns.
"Put your hands up and get on the fucking floor!" He hollered waving each in a different direction. "Get on the goddamn floor!" Someone started to cry but otherwise everyone did as told lowering slowly to the ground arms in the air. "Put your cell phones into the bag if you refuse or claim to not have one that old guy over there will blast out the trash's brains." He hissed holding the black bag out.
With shaking hands everyone did as told and Blackberries, iPhones, Nexus, Touch, and Razors were given up under the hostile eyes of the man. Once the bag was full he simply knotted the drawstring and tightened it before throwing it behind his back. Waving his gun he started to shepherd the people into the circular office.
But Sena didn't notice any of that; screams, cries, and other noises of fear were drowned out. The only sensation he was aware of was the burning touch of the gun against his forehead. The smell of oil and gunpowder tainted his brain and the expression on the old man's face bore into his.
Despite the heavy set of his jaw, the man almost looked bored, his muscles loose and poster slouched. A finger rested over the trigger and his other hand was stuffed in the pocket of his tan Ralph Lauren trousers the thumb attached onto a brown belt loop.
But behind large thin wire glasses, his eyes betrayed him, glinting but remaining sharp while calculating his next move. They held no remorse to what he was doing and simply saw through Sena as if he were nothing more than a billboard on a busy highway.
Sena frowned noticing the reflexive outlining circle around the man's iris.
"Hey get away from him!"
Sena's heart dropped, this was the worst thing that could have happened, he'd rather the old man have shot him on the spot. Chuubou came running up from the backroom and the other – younger – man wearing the ski mask leaped out at him.
Using the skills from constant baseball practice he faked left then bolted right his eyes locked on Sena. "No!" Sena screamed, in a blur Chuubou fell. Dazed Sena realized that the man had turned and thrown him to the ground faster than his eyes could follow.
"Shut up kid," the older man warned blocking Sena from running over to Chuubou by digging the gun harder into his forehead. "Dumbass," he growled to the other guy and grabbed Sena's arm with an iron grip. Sena gasped hunching over from the pain but otherwise kept his eyes glued on Chuubou.
He twitched slightly and Sena could make out the slightest movement. Good he was breathing. Sena turned his attention back up to the old man, wait why wasn't he wearing a mask? So different from the younger man he wore an expensive red knitted vest under an even more expensive looking button up shirt and there was a slight hunch of age to his back. His pants could only be described as 'trousers' and on his wrist looked to be a golden Rolex watch.
Not stereotypic of a jewelry robber.
The younger guy grunted before waving his own gun at Sena. He flinched as the older man had placed his own gun against the side of Sena's stomach. "Now listen 'kay kid? We're going to need you to unlock some of these," the old man hissed into his ear.
Oh god his legs were going to give out any second, he was shivering hard enough that the gun was practically vibrating against him. But he couldn't fall down, would they shoot him if he did? Sena forced his attention back onto the old man. "B-but I can't," he said weakly only to release a pained yelp as the old man twisted the gun hard against his side.
"Unless you want one of these fine people to get shot in the head, find a way." He warned thin lips curling. Sena nodded slowly flinching as the man moved closer. He first patted down the pockets on Sena's black trousers before sticking a hand into the pocket of the lining to his blazer. Sena swallowed dry as he dropped the keys into Sena's hand.
For a moment he wondered why the man didn't just open it himself, but quickly dismissed the thought as he stumbled across the room the keys rattling in his hand. The following minute was the worst of his life thus far. The jewelry store had always felt a little to him like heaven; pristine in a mildly cool way.
Now with the smell of gunpowder, oil, and sweat stinging his nostrils and the whiteness of everything the room felt opposite of heavenly. The teeth of the key snared against the dry skin of his thumb leaving a trail of dark red in its wake.
Sena jerked back his head hitting what he assumed was the gun owned by the old man. "S-sorry," he muttered and was only answered by the empty black sack the man dropped next to him. With only the sound of his heart thumping against his ribcage in exchange for silence Sena silently slipped priceless jewels into the bag.
The room felt too hot and he distractingly wiped away sweat in the space between his eyebrows with the cuff of his sleeve. Sena's eyes darted over to Chuubou, he was still lying motionless on the ground his face turned the opposite direction.
Maybe if he worked fast enough they would leave before Chuubou woke up and Sena could rush to his aid. There wasn't any blood but Sena knew how strong and athletic Chuubou was – he wasn't the type of kid to collapse with a single hit.
But, he thought glancing at the younger of the two robbers; the scary guy did look freakishly strong. And from the way he practically shoved Chuubou into the ground, not afraid to use complete force, he was ruthless.
If Chuubou awoke soon he wouldn't think about any of that, no he would instantly attempt to save Sena again. And if that happened – well Sena couldn't even think about what would happen to the boy. Mamori would have already known what to do, heck the second the robbers brought out their guns she would have made sure the police were already there.
Sena's breath caught in his throat realizing his idiocy – he should have pressed the panic button the second the old man had held him gunpoint. Glancing up he realized that the button was only inches from his head and a buzz spread throughout his body.
Simply by pressing that button the cops would instantly arrive maybe in time to catch and imprison the robbers. Perhaps by doing what he had so far, he already lost his job. Speaking of which, where was Doburoku? The thought was only a passing one along with thousands of others, mentally forcing them away, Sena attempted to concentrate.
He needed to press the panic button unnoticed by the sharp eyes of the old man behind him. Sweat collected in the palms of his hands – surely the man had also noticed the button and was keeping a close eye on it.
Could he tell what Sena was thinking? The gun pressed tighter into his adnominal region Sena choked on spite as a response. "Hurry it up," the old man hissed before releasing some of the pressure. Sena nodded not even registering what he was putting in the bag anymore. His legs throbbed at the lack of blood flow and his breath was coming out in small puffs.
The fluorescent lighting oozed through his skull – had they turned the air conditioner off? Sena's whole face felt flushed and was probably wet from sweat. But none of that mattered; he had to reach that damn button!
Swallowing salty spit Sena shot a look back to it, careful not to tilt his head too much he wasn't sure if the old robber's attention was on him or not.
"That's enough," said the robber's gruff voice. Sena made a split decision and while standing up pretended as if his knees gave out. Reaching out for the counter he stretched far enough to firmly press the red button.
Relief washed through his system – maybe now the nightmare would end.
Present
Sena frowned pressing his brow together, the rest was blurry but due to a throbbing pain on the left part of his brain he could guess what happened next. The old man had hit him with the butt of the gun knocking him out.
But why was he here?
Staring around the depressing state of the van Sena shifted uneasily in his seat. His seat, of course, being the wet and in certain spots eerily sticky floor - which actually didn't even count as a seat. About half an hour ago the van had stopped moving and Scary Guy had jumped out leaving Sena utterly alone.
He had tried opening the door, but with both hands tightened behind his back with a good layer of duck tape and rope, failure had been swift. Pain wasn't though, it seemed as if every part of his body was either in pain, dirty, or both. There was surely large bruises forming on his arms and on the ribcage due to the nauseating smell and tickling sensation running down the side of his face – he was bleeding on his forehead.
And he really, really, really had to pee.
All these factors led up to only one thing.
Thick tears trailed down his face only making matters worse as he couldn't easily wipe at the tears and snot as they crawled down his face. And this only made him cry harder to the point where he was sure that the van was shaking along with his own trembling.
This carried on for a good ten minutes until he was simply too exhausted both physically and mentally. Wiping his face against his knee caps Sena was relieved that they were dark enough to hide any blood stains. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to stand another round of crying so soon.
If not for the pressing issue of his bladder Sena probably would have fallen asleep on the spot. Instead he attempted to move around as much as possible and a couple times struggled through his bindings to no success.
What felt like eons later the side door to the van slid open attacking him with blinding light. Instantly the image of the old man holding the gun to his head can to mind and a wave of panic hit. Crouching away Sena shut his eyes hunching his shoulders together.
"Get out," a voice ordered different from the other two from before. Sena cautiously opened his eyes taking in the image of the young man standing in front of him. Blond with sharp mint green eyes and a lean frame he stared at Sena expressionless.
When Sena didn't move the youth gave an overdramatic sigh and crawled into the van shoving at the piles of crap in his way. "Come on don't be annoying," he grunted grabbing onto Sena's shoulder and dragging the boy closer. Sena didn't resist still too busy with a high-pitch buzz locked inside his head.
Getting out of the van was difficult – his legs were as steady as cooked pasta and without the aid of arms he couldn't contain any prospect of balance. So instead of even bothering to try and get hurt Sena just sat at the edge of the van staring at the ground.
His legs were getting cramped up again and sweat was making his face itch. "Whoa, kid - don't pass out now," The blonde ordered jumping around him, out of the van, to catch Sena from a face plant into the gray cement.
"What's wrong with it?" Another voice demanded coming from every direction. "Kid's in fucking shock – shit!" He snapped but Sena couldn't reply. He was too busy as seconds later another with dry heave of stomach acid forced itself up his throat. The blonde had nimbly moved out of the way while still keeping a hand on Sena, keeping the boy from landing in a pile of his own puke.
Sena whimpered still needing to pee – badly. He opened his mouth attempting to force the words out, empty air came instead. The blonde somehow managed to pull him away from the puke and out of the van, but Sena couldn't remember even the slightest effort on his part.
His brain twisted again fading everything to black and Sena slouched even more against the blonde. The pain in his stomach would have caused him to heave again otherwise. Cold sweat itched across his skin and Sena looked into the cool green eyes of the blonde.
"Well fuck this-"
--
Sena woke up slowly, first he became aware that he was still tired and attempted to return to sleep. A throbbing headache soon followed and Sena breathed deeply trying to find a rhythm that would wash it away.
Then he realized that he didn't have to pee anymore and his brain twitched locking on something. Why had he needed to pee? Swallowing Sena ran a dry tongue over the layer of uckness on his teeth. He was really thirsty. But that could wait for later, sleep now, water later.
As soon as that thought passed a warm greasy scent invaded his nostrils. Instantly Sena's eyes flickered open and he rubbed at the pound of eye glunk that had formed on the inner corners. Sitting up his stomach grumbled again and Sena stared at his surroundings passively.
He had been placed on top of a pile of clothing – mostly old large orange t-shirts and was wearing one of said orange t-shirts. Curiously he checked underneath and colored lightly – nothing else. Standing on wobbly legs Sena instantly slipped falling halfway on the t-shirts and on the cold floor.
Trying again – this time much more cautiously – Sena stood and sniffed with all intentions of finding the greasy food. His stomach felt clenched and the headache wouldn't go away. Raising a hand to his head he frowned touching cloth. He pressed darker and hissed at the pain. Better not do that again.
Glancing around Sena realized for the first time that he didn't have the slightly idea where he was. Scratching at a bleak memory he came up mostly empty, expect for getting third place in the school spelling bee.
But no memories of the spelling bee could explain what he was doing in a rather deserted warehouse. Well not completely deserted he realized chewing on a bottom lip, there was still the greasy food to be had. And – after paying closer attention – he realized it smelled more and more like fried chicken.
How would Sena realize that though? Frowning he tried to remember ever eating fried chicken, strange – he knew how it would taste and could even picture a piece of chicken breast wrapped around in golden breading. But he couldn't think of any single time he had eaten fried chicken personally.
Brushing off the weirdness before it could seriously get to him Sena started heading in the general direction the smell was coming from. Careful of where he stepped, not wanting glass piercing his bare feet.
Sena's head snapped up the second he heard voices – two males muttering too low for him to properly understand. He didn't want to eavesdrop anyway, just get some food. "Excuse me?" He asked surprised how hoarse and deep his voice was.
Rounding around some complex apparatus he came face to face with the two men. They both had stopped talking the second he had started and stared at him in exchange of an answer. Glancing over them Sena realized that sure enough contained in a paper bucket was fried chicken.
It was placed on top of an empty milk carton along with a bag of what appeared to be forks, napkins, and things of the such.
"You're awake," the blonde one stated snapping Sena's attention away from the chicken. "Oh yes but I'm still tired though. I'm more hungry than more tired though, would you mind?" Sena nearly begged and the blonde waved a hand to the food.
Sena thanked him before crouching down at the milk carton and gently took a piece of meat out of the red and white bucket. Even though he didn't have any memories to back up his reasoning Sena figured that simply holding the chicken in his bare hand would be too hot.
So instead he peeled off one paper plates and put it there scurrying the room for a free chair. Finding none he instead stayed crouched on his knees. The shirt was long enough that even by doing this it draped almost to his feet.
Sena took as large as a bite as possible and relished on the juicy, crunchy, and salty taste. He practically didn't breathe until he was left with a couple of bones. He debated on taking another piece but already his stomach was beginning to feel better if not a little blotted.
Picking up a napkin while standing at the same time Sena scrubbed at his hands and face before fully taking on his current company. They were younger than he had thought at first – older than him by far but under 21. The blonde one had several piercings in his ears and two silver piercings under his bottom lip. He was wearing a black collared button up shirt with no sleeves, dark jeans, a series of tattoos down his arms, a studded belt, and Converse.
The other boy was glaring at Sena and wearing a white tank top, baggy jeans, and had zero body fat whatsoever. Instead he seemed to be packed with pure muscle, a mess of heavy dreadlocks ran down his back and Sena could make out a tattoo on his back.
The chicken sat uneasy in his stomach and he could feel his face redden. Standing up he stammered, "Sorry that was rude of me wasn't it?" Their expressions gave nothing away but Sena could feel the awkwardness sitting in the room.
"Well, um, I'm Sena – you wouldn't happen to know why I'm here would you?"