Chapter 3

Kaito isn't sure how long they leave him in there, but it was definitely longer than usual.

He's patched up his stomach the best he can; fortunately, Irish hadn't taken the plastic bag when he'd kidnapped Shinichi, so he had extra bandages and even a few granola bars and water. He stayed next to the door, ready to spring up and attack the moment Irish opened the door.

God, he'd never hated anyone more in his life! Snake had only inspired this amount of hatred once, when he learned about Pandora, and even then it hadn't lasted this long. Kaito had felt many different kinds of hatred before, but never this cold, heart-stopping rage. His hands curled into fists. He wanted to break every bone in Irish's body and leave him face down in a river.

Shinichi shouldn't have been treated like that! Irish didn't deserve to feel the undersides of his shoes. Shinichi was good, the only good thing he had in this hellhole, and he'd do anything to avenge that.

The door unlocked and Kaito, taken off guard, couldn't dodge the hand that snatched him by the hair and hauled him out. He fell onto his hands and knees and before he could even move, the muzzle of a gun pressed in between his shoulder blades. Kaito twisted his head around just far enough to see cold, killer eyes and long blond hair. "If you try to escape, I will shoot you," the Organization member said. "Get up and move."

Obeying, Kaito stood and the blond led him down the hallway, hand on his shoulder and gun to his back. His eyes flickered around, memorizing the way. He had to, was going to, escape and find Shinichi, but he had to lose the blondie first. It wouldn't take long—

The man shoved him into another room and as Kaito shot back to his feet, the door slammed shut. The room he was in was longer than it was wide, walls and floors white except for one of the long walls next to the door. That wall was completely mirrored with another door set in the center, bolted shut. The air tasted like chemicals and antiseptic. But that wasn't what held Kaito's attention. No, that belonged to the metal chair bolted to the floor with Irish chained half-naked to it.

Stalking closer, Kaito couldn't stop staring. Irish's eyes were hazy, pupils dilated too far to be anything but drugs, and a bloody rag had been shoved in his mouth. Kaito's lips twitched up; he couldn't help it. He… he wanted to hurt him. More than anything, more than he'd ever wanted to hurt anyone before, both for Shinichi and for himself.

If anyone deserved it, it was Irish.

He stopped in front of him. Unseen from the door, a tray of tools sat innocently on a table. Kaito recognized some of them—ones Irish had used on him—but others were unfamiliar, like a pair of pliers. He didn't want to think about why those were there. "What is this?" he rasped, his throat still sore from his screaming.

"Your revenge."

His head turned so fast his neck cracked. Over the door he entered through was a camera and below it, a speaker. So they could see him then. "What are you talking about?"

"Irish has outlived his usefulness," the voice said. It was deep and honeyed, definitely male though Kaito knew how easy it was to change one's voice. "While he was correct to bring the situation to light, he had no right to lay a hand on Absinthe, so I took his tongue. I'm allowing you to finish the rest."

He stepped back, narrowing his eyes. "You… you're Anokata."

"Correct, Kaito Kuroba." The lights flashed and the mirrors brightened, revealing them to be two-way mirrors. Kaito's blood chilled. On the opposite side, Shinichi was handcuffed to a chair with a similar tray right beside him. Neither could take their eyes off the other, ignoring the strawberry-blonde woman in the room with Shinichi. Bruises covered Shinichi's cheeks and Kaito could see the outline of a bandage under his black shirt. "I wish to offer you a deal."

"What deal?" Kaito couldn't stop the hostility from leaking into his voice.

"You want revenge for what he did? If you don't, that's fine. But for every tool you refuse don't use, its counterpart will taste Absinthe's blood. Sherry will make sure of it."

"That's not much of a deal, is it?" Kaito growled.

"No. No it is not. I suggest you get started, Kaitou KID. Start with the fillet knife… and do try to have fun. This is for both of you, after all."

Shinichi looked terrified. He hid it well, but unlike Kaito, he didn't have a master poker face. His jaw was too tight, his knuckles too white, tears budding in his scared, yet determined eyes. Kaito knew what he had to do.

Shinichi would do the same for him if the situations were reversed. Shinichi had done everything he could up to here to protect him. It was time for Kaito to return the favor.

He started with a series of lines across Irish's chest. No intricate designs, no words, just a bunch of shaky, inexperienced lines that ended up looking like a grid. Irish trembled and moaned, but didn't scream—he must be under some powerful drugs. Or shallow cuts just weren't that painful. But they would be, Kaito thought as he balled up his fist. They would be.

The beating Kaito brought down upon him caused Irish to jerk and shout. He struggled against the chains, but drugged and in pain, he couldn't do anything but take it. Kaito had never seen anything more pathetic in his life.

It made him sick to his stomach.

Kaito used each of the 5 knifes on Irish, creating small cuts then beating the blood out of him. He was careful not to cut to deep or around arteries. Who knew what would happen if Irish died so quickly? No, that's wrong—he knew what would happen. His hands shook as he set down the knife and grabbed a container of salt. He couldn't look at Shinichi and hoped Shinichi felt the same; he didn't want Shinichi to see him like this. He poured the salt over the cuts.

Soon, Irish's screams of agony trailed off into sobs. It was easier to ignore him as Kaito moved onto the Taser. Irish jolted and shook from the electricity flowing through damaged muscles and nerves, but it was quiet. Too quiet. An inexplicable wave of anger washed over him. Irish didn't deserve to be quiet.

Kaito grabbed the hammer off the tray and brought it down on Irish's wrist. A sickening crack filled the cloying air followed by howl. He raised the hammer to strike again— "Stop," Anokata ordered. Kaito obeyed. "Use the pliers first."

He hesitated, hand hovering over the tool. He licked his lip. "H-How…?"

"Do you need an example?"

Before he could respond, a sob of pain crackled over the speaker. Kaito's head spun around so fast his neck cracked. Sherry was bent over Shinichi, her own pliers gripping one of his fingernails as she slowly pulled it out. "Stop it!" Kaito screamed, slamming his fists against the glass. "Stop it, I'll do it! Damn it, stop!"

She didn't stop. Kaito watched in morbid fascination as one bloody nail slid off Shinichi's pinky and dropped to the floor. Shinichi trembled in his chair, his mouth bleeding from where his teeth had gone through skin. "Do you need another example?" Anokata asked.

"No!" Before Sherry could start again, Kaito grabbed his pliers and started pulling. It was messy; Irish attempted to scratch him so Kaito couldn't get a good grip, causing him to stop and readjust. Soon, a little pile of fingernails formed on the tray. Was this good? Or did Anokata want him to remove Irish's toenails too or worse—Kaito gagged—his teeth? Kaito cautiously put the pliers back and, when no reprimand or scream came, grabbed the hammer again. There were several bones left that such a small hammer could break. And… it kept him from thinking about the last tool.

But soon enough, Kaito was out of bones and only had one thing left to use: a pistol. He didn't know much about guns—he never intended to use one—but he knew enough to check the chamber. One bullet. "What do you want me to do?" Kaito asked. He already knew the answer.

"Kill him."

Kaito obeyed.

Flesh exploded from Ir—the corpse's head, splattering the white wall behind it. Kaito turned away, shaking, his breath coming in pants. It wasn't killing him that made Kaito sick. He'd never thought someone earned death before, but fuck did that bastard earn it! But it wasn't the fact that he'd pulled the trigger that scared him; it was that he didn't feel bad about it. Kaito had truly wanted him to die, so he killed him. Was it this simple? Was taking a life really this simple? Everything can be stolen except for a life. That wasn't true, Tou-san. Not anymore.

Click.

The glass door had unlocked. Kaito rushed through, knocking his tray down in his hurry. He shot over to Shinichi, who embraced him, arms freed when Sherry left. Kaito expected to be pushed away, yelled at, cursed and hated. Instead, bloodstained lips pressed into his hair. Strong arms curled around him, trapping Kaito to his chest in warmth he never wanted to leave. Shinichi's pulse was strong against Kaito's forehead and his collarbone caught the tears that unknowingly flowed from Kaito's eyes. Shinichi was safe now, he'd be okay!—

He was babbling, countless "I'm sorry"s pouring out of him. He couldn't stop, not shaking, or babbling, or crying—

But Shinichi whispered reassurances into his ear, "Thank you" and "It's okay now" being the most common of the lot.