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His world is cold and dark.
He can hear quiet, muffled voices outside his cage; the one they draped a blanket over as if he was a goddamn parrot. That doesn't stop him from shouting obscenities at them. However, no matter how much noise he makes or insults he jeers to instigate, he is left ignored.
At least, verbally.
With each threat he makes or comments aimed at hurting their pride; they simply switch on the collar fastened tightly around his neck, shooting sharp waves of electricity throughout his body. A voltage nearly too strong for a lesser human, but is still considered weak from what he is used to.
It's enough to shut him up; if temporarily.
He shouts his displeasure for as long as his throat will allow.
Now, voice hoarse, esophagus raw, and hours (days?) later, he slumps against the cramped confines of the bars, eyelids half-mast. He hasn't been able to utter a sound in a while, not without great pain, at least. Every so often, he remembers to scrounge up his voice, in a valiant attempt of defiance. He has to wonder whether they are still nearby, they haven't shocked him in ages.
But now he's oh so tired.
Tired. Angry. Frightened.
He wonders if this is how he dies. Trapped inside this cold, dark prison. He wonders if this is what it's like to be thrown away; cast aside by his creators when he was deemed a "failure".
Compared to the others, he supposes he is. He also supposes this death is only slightly above dying back at the lab due to some unfortunate "mishap" like so many before him.
He never expected to be this lonely.
He releases a deep sigh as he finally allows his eyes to close. Licking chapped lips, he slides down the bars until he's curled in on himself at the bottom of his cage. His body wracks with shivers that only have him huddle tighter, tucking his legs up to his chest as far as they'll go, seeking warmth his body fails to regulate.
With another soft exhale, he feels his consciousness slowly slip away, like grains of sand easing between his fingers; a sensation he knows, but has no memory to attach to it. He feels his thoughts wane into sluggish, incoherent trails for however long it takes for total exhaustion to claim him.
Akihito sleeps.
Ryuichi stares out into the city's nightscape, lights in every color blaring in luminescence, cigarette burning forgotten between his fingers. Kirishima drones on behind him, reading off his tablet about their current stocks and sales. All boring, as not much has changed since the briefing last week; other than a slight decrease in numbers, it isn't a significant amount for it to warrant Ryuichi staying late, cooped up in his office. However, between listening to Kirishima rattle off numbers, or returning his sister's multitude of voicemails, he'll take the former.
His sister, Michiko, has been calling him incessantly for the past few days, leaving him shorter and shorter messages that have only devolved into threats for ignoring her. Michiko is smart, however, as she no longer divulges as to why she is calling, since in the past, Kirishima would relay the messages, allowing Ryuichi to make plans to avoid visits or events she was attempting to force upon him. These last several days, he has been burying himself in work to keep himself busy, the best excuse he can make, but even that won't keep Michiko away for long. Ryuichi has already pawned the issue off onto Kirishima, to answer some of the calls, and politely inform his increasingly irate sister, that Ryuichi, is, in fact, busy.
He doubts she believes it, but Michiko hasn't physically shown up yet, so he'll continue to push his luck. And maybe, just maybe, she'll forget, or better yet, give up. Unfortunately, "giving up" isn't in the Asami nature, and in some ways, Michiko can be even more stubborn than Ryuichi himself. Which is saying quite a lot.
Growing up, it was a constant fight for dominance between them, alternating between stealing each other's things, or breaking them in entirely new, and creative ways. Michiko lives under the impression that just because she is two years older, she's entitled to be the "boss", something Ryuichi wasn't going to lie down and take. As they grew older, the animosity between them dwindled, allowing them to hold actual conversations, though they still frequently rub each other the wrong way; the friction was ever-present.
Thankfully, they both went into separate fields. However, for a time, Michiko did want Ryuichi to earn a medical license of his own, so he could work in the hospital she opened up; which didn't matter in the end as she swiftly changed course to pharmaceuticals. Needless to say, Ryuichi blatantly, and without hesitation, refused her proposal and attended University for robotics instead –and later, business. Ryuichi has since been running his own successful business, SiON, creating AI and other technology that can be applied to people's everyday lives. On the surface, at least. What the public doesn't know, is that he also trades and imports illegal weaponry and substances through his underground channels; the black market is a separate, untraceable, source of income.
Soon, Ryuichi grows suspicious. For a while now, he evidently has not been paying any attention to the debriefing, and at this point, Kirishima would have cleared his throat or scuffed his shoe against the floor to draw Ryuichi's focus back to the matter at hand. The fact he has done neither has Ryuichi wondering if Kirishima is just as bored as he is.
Ryuichi doesn't have much longer to ruminate when Kirishima's tablet dings a notification. A sound that has become grating over time, as Kirishima never silences the damned thing. The happy chime is short, but something about the way it is slightly off-beat never ceases to fail at getting on Ryuichi's nerves. At the sound, Ryuichi suppresses a groan as Kirishima's voice trails off, to presumably, check said notification, allowing Ryuichi a handful of blissful seconds in silence.
Of course, it isn't meant to last. "Asami-sama," Kirishima breaks the lull; his voice almost hesitant. That finally grabs Ryuichi's attention as he swivels his chair around to regard Kirishima fully. Ryuichi stubs his long-forgotten cigarette out as Kirishima continues, "It appears shipment AG-309 has gone missing."
Ryuichi narrows his eyes, immediately regretting not having his cigarette.
The AG series is the latest model of kinetic knives. Knives that are capable of burning anything they cut, and of course, they have been outlawed upon their creation. Ryuichi, however, likes the thought of them; a knife that can efficiently slice through synthetic and organic material –including flesh, and with enough force, bone–, while simultaneously cauterizing wounds sounds like a dream for his more shady, extracurricular activities. A weapon like that won't leave any blood behind for evidence. However, the fact that the shipment has gone missing is concerning, "Where was its last known location?" He drawls, pulling his pack of Dunhill out from his inner pocket, he smoothly taps out a fresh cigarette.
These days, the old-fashioned form of cigarettes isn't nearly as popular compared to refillable pens. However, Ryuichi has always preferred the taste of the former rather than the latter. He finds the nicotine isn't nearly as potent in the pens thanks to stricter regulations.
Reflexively, Kirishima approaches with his chargeable, heated lighter as he responds, "In Sub-Area 06, district B, sir."
Ryuichi leans back in his chair, taking in a long drag, holding the nicotine in his lungs for several seconds, before blowing it out in a thick plume of smoke, "That is problematic," he says, mind already racing with countermeasures.
The majority of criminal and illegal dealings occur in the Sub-Areas. Just like the title, it is part of the city that was erected in excavated mines back when the world population skyrocketed, creating a need for more space and residential neighborhoods. While the city also builds up via skyscrapers, the housing on the surface is still overpopulated and significantly more expensive compared to the subterranean counterpart, which has become a lawless, and low-income based land. Later, they developed into slums, as the homeless are often chased underground, perceived as "eyesores" by the rest of the public. Over the past few decades, the Sub-Areas have drastically increased in size, while subsequently doubling the crime rate as the population down there grows denser.
"What are your orders?" Kirishima inquires, selecting the setting on his tablet that condenses it down into its pocket-size form.
"Contact–"
Before he can even finish, Ryuichi's phone beeps with an incoming call, and an inlaid light along the band around his wrist flashes blue. He stares at it for a couple of seconds, already with an idea as to who it is since not many know his personal number. He slides his thumb along the side of the band, unlocking the screen as it projects the phone onto the palm of his hand. And lo and behold, the name "Michiko" stares back at him.
"Change of plans, I'll go in person," Ryuichi announces, already pushing himself out of his chair.
A brief scandalized look flashes across Kirishima's face before he swiftly schools his expression back to indifference, "Pardon? You're going in person?" He can, however, not hide his distaste at setting foot in the underground, notwithstanding that they've both been there countless times. Though that was when Ryuichi was still building up both his businesses, but now that he is the CEO of one of the largest leading tech giants, as well as a top crime lord, he has since been able to delegate others to do errands in the Sub-Areas.
It's safe to say Kirishima hasn't missed them.
"Yes," Ryuichi slips on his coat, Kirishima still standing, dumbfounded in front of Ryuichi's now vacant desk, "We leave now."
They have only been in the car for fifteen minutes when his phone rings again. Ryuichi hesitates momentarily before answering with a quiet sigh, "With what do I owe the pleasure," he deadpans, making it clear that it is, in fact, not a pleasure.
"Where the hell are you?" Came Michiko's voice, anger apparent in her tone, as she too, hides nothing.
"Why, dear sister, I have been swamped with work."
"Yes, yes. So your loyal peon has been telling me for the past four days. Do try harder, brother; I do not believe you."
"You're going to have to, I'm afraid. Unfortunately, it is the truth," Of course, he conveniently leaves out the bit that he could easily have any number of employees, both legal and not, attend to the work he has been doing specifically to avoid Michiko. In fact, the SiON work he was delegating to himself, is usually done by his regular nine-to-five staff. "Can we make this quick? I have places to be."
Which, is not a lie. Already, Ryuichi can see the building containing the elevator to the Sub-Areas.
"I'm sure you do," Michiko snarks, "I RSVP'd you for the Charity Gala being held at the Ginga Center."
Ryuichi pinches the bridge of his nose, fighting back the rapidly building throb behind his eyes, "What day?"
"The twenty-third." So in seven days.
He lets the conversation lapse into silence in the pretense of checking his schedule, as Suoh maneuvers the car into the parking garage. Ryuichi allows the lull to hang long enough to deliver the best results, "Oh, it's a shame, but I have a very important meeting to sit that day."
"Perfect! Since the Gala is on the twenty-third of next month, you should have plenty of time to keep that day open."
Ryuichi can hear the smugness in her tone, as it was practically dripping with it.
"Now seriously, where are you?"
"I did not lie. I have places to be."
"Okay, but where? I'll meet you there. I have something for you."
He can feel the corner of his mouth twitches slightly upward, "The Sub-Areas." Silence immediately reigns.
There's a gusty sigh, followed shortly after by a click of her tongue. Ryuichi's smirk grows, "Fine, I'll reschedule." If there's one place Michiko refuses to step foot, it's the Sub-Areas. She's never explicitly told him why, or so much as hinted at an explanation, but Ryuichi isn't above using it as a means to keep her off his back.
Abruptly, there's another voice on the other end of the line, higher-pitched, and feminine, yet too far away to decipher what is being said.
"Hello, my love," Michiko sing-songs, the lilt in her tone vastly different from what she normally uses around him. The pet name, however, is enough for Ryuichi to immediately know who it is, though he has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. He does take the opportunity to hang up on her, not too keen on listening to her sickly sweet voice, and clearly, there isn't anything more that needs to be said.
Ryuichi holds no obligations to divulge his business with her anyway.
Momohara Ai, a pretty blonde thing; last time he saw her at least. She tends to change her hair color with her moods, though she defaults to a light blonde. She's utterly not to Ryuichi's tastes, a little too fickle and meek, but to each their own. Momohara has been Michiko's pet/lover/partner for nearly three years now. If Michiko gets to talking, she can go on and on about the perfection that is Momohara. She's quiet, annoyingly, besotted. And because of her strange obsession, she's sought to find someone for Ryuichi, believing he will never know true happiness until he has what Michiko has.
The older they get, the more insistent she becomes.
Ryuichi sets his phone on silent, clenching his fist to close the screen. He wants no further interruptions while he's underground. In such a lawless land, there are typically hostiles hiding behind every corner, and Ryuichi has built his empire too high to be taken out by some unknown punk feasting on the scraps cast their way; especially not for being distracted.
Seated in the back of the limo, he slips out of his nice, expensive suit jacket and into one significantly more befitting for the slums. A long, well-worn leather trench coat with scrapes strategically applied for added effect, while simultaneously keeping his guns hidden from plain view. He then tussles his hair slightly from its slicked-back state until the strands fall against his forehead. Ryuichi doesn't want to draw more attention than necessary but is also needing to be recognizable to the right people. There are no concerns with muggings, as anyone who attempts such stupidity with him will surely regret it later. Still, the fewer people that witness him passing through the Sub-Areas, the better. Unfortunately, however, Kirishima and Suoh are rather conspicuous themselves, but both vehemently refuse the idea of Ryuichi going alone.
They have agreed to walk some distance away, with the goal of drawing fewer eyes to them than if they were grouped together.
Without a word, Ryuichi exits the limo, followed by both of his long-time colleagues. The only two that have stuck around from the very beginning, without turning traitorous, and subsequently, forcing Ryuichi's hand in taking them out. Unfortunately, a life of crime comes with costs and decisions he quickly had to learn to live with.
The large, glass doors automatically slide open upon their approach, leading them directly into the reception area; like most buildings these days, the interior is mainly white with high ceilings. The reception desk sections off to those just entering, and the many that are currently waiting in line just passed the sensors that scan for contraband.
The security for the elevators has always been aggressively stringent, with cameras on nearly every corner and guards lurking, waiting to catch anyone even the slightest bit suspicious, to haul them to a back room for an impromptu interrogation. Not that they'll ever give Ryuichi any problems, especially with the connections he has in the police force.
It's rather ironic, really, that they heavily monitor the entrance of the Sub-Areas, while doing next to nothing to police any of the illegal activities happening down there. In a sense, they are simply containing the majority of the city's crime rate in the Sub-Areas, with the pretense of cracking down on crime. Not that any of this matters to Ryuichi, in fact, it works perfectly in his favor to have a zone that allows him to act freely in his underworld business. It's unfortunate, however, that he has grown to be such a well-known figure through SiON, that venturing into the Sub-Areas has become significantly more difficult. This is why he rarely permits his pictures to be taken and subsequently plastered all over the web.
Ryuichi has developed countermeasures, such as an AI that will sweep the internet and remove the few paparazzi images of him that occasionally crop back up. To the public, he simply comes off as mysterious, someone that generally likes to keep private. Though he has to balance it out, by occasionally showing his face at events or holding public press conferences to announce new products, all to avoid any suspicion that may crop up.
They wait in line to the receptionist like the good little civilians they need to appear as. After each person is checked in, they are led to the scanners by an armed droid. The droid stands at about the average male height, entirely white other than the small amount of black that peeks out between its joints, and completely devoid of any facial features. Ryuichi is thoroughly familiar with them, as it was his company that developed and marketed them. If he recalls correctly, they are the KAIGUN 1.8 version and are outdated compared to its three newer variants. The KAIGUN are designed specifically to appear as robots as opposed to the RETA that are meant to fully blend in with society.
Several people are turned away, one older gentleman is even escorted to the door, shouting profanities about the unfairness of it all. When it's finally their turn, Kirishima flashes his card at the woman behind the desk, the card that will give them special clearance, under a false title and name. Similar to what the Government drones use to enter and exit the Sub-Areas seamlessly and without record. The woman's gaze focuses hard on the card, with zero emotion as she searches it for any signs of forgery; she will find none. As predicted, she simply nods her head, silently gesturing for them to continue through the censors, which should be temporarily deactivated, allowing them to pass with their concealed weapons or any other contraband they may have.
There's a long line of normal civilians that have already passed the screening, queued up along a blue strip of light that runs across the floor to keep things orderly. Ryuichi, however, bypasses the entire line, heading straight for the large, industrial elevator doors; earning scathing looks from those that have, most likely, been waiting a majority of the day.
The elevator only runs once every four hours, unless, for scheduled material shipments, or select groups of people; i.e Government officials or anyone who has the clearance are granted special exceptions. People such as Ryuichi, though the masses here aren't aware of that, and it is, by no means, any of their business. They can glare and mutter as much as they want, but it absolutely does not affect him.
There's an armed guard and another KAIGUN stationed by the elevator door, standing stoic and completely ignoring the line. That is, until Ryuichi approaches, drawing attention to himself. Immediately, the guard turns a heated glare his way through the visor of his helmet, before marching directly towards Ryuichi, XR Pulsar held diagonally across his body, nozzle pointed at the floor. The perfect stance to avoid miss-fires, while also allowing a swift position change to hold the gun at the ready if need be.
"Hey! Back in line!" The guard demands, voice deep and rough. He isn't allowed to get any closer as Kirishima smoothly steps in front, ID card held out for viewing.
"We have permissions," Kirishima calmly intercepts, forcing the guard to pause mere feet away. He appears almost reluctant to so much as glance at the card, as if he's so hell-bent on throwing his authority around, that the thought of compromise pisses him off. Unfortunately for him, this is a battle he cannot win.
"State your business," the guard attempts to assert an authoritative role, but with no grounds to stand on, he will get nowhere.
"That is not required," Kirishima easily counters.
The guard makes a sound of frustration. His inner war is palpable on his face as his cheeks grow ruddy with his constrained ire and the tight clench of his jaw. Eventually, his eyes flick slightly downward to regard the ID, in a decision that appears to have pained him. The way he glares at the card almost seems as if he would like nothing more than to vaporize it, but instead, he whirls around, stomps towards the control panel next to the door, and aggressively taps in the –rather long– code. Seconds later, the large, impenetrable doors slide open, revealing the well-lit interior of the elevator.
Ryuichi saunters passed, sparing not a single glance at the guard on the way, stepping into the elevator along with Kirishima and Suoh, "No one else moves!" the guard shouts towards the rest of the people still waiting, evidently, taking his rage out on them since he was unable with Kirishima. The guard achieves one last withering glare before the doors close, officially sealing them inside.
"Beginning descent," A feminine, robotic voice announces seconds before the elevator starts to move. The elevator itself was built for high capacity. It is large enough to comfortably fit a little over one-hundred people at a time, with an absurdly large weight limit, rendering it capable of moving industrial machinery, or cargo from the surface level to the underground and vice versa.
They stand in silence other than the slight whir emanating from the elevator when Kirishima speaks up, "Shall I contact Sakazaki and inform him of our arrival?"
Ryuichi only needs to ponder that for a moment, "No. It will be best for us to show up unannounced."
Sakazaki is a freelance trader, whose base of operations just so happens to be located smack dab in the center of Sub-Area 06, district B. He tends to know all the activities and different groups that operate within the Sub-Areas, as Sakazaki himself will often be the go-between guy, if he's paid well enough, that is. Sakazaki is a finicky bastard, Ryuichi hates having to deal with him, but unfortunately, Sakazaki is the only third-party that will have any inkling of an idea of what organizations have the insolence to intercept Ryuichi's ware. To Ryuichi, it sounds as if it's some new group that doesn't yet know the rules, which puts Ryuichi in the position of teaching them their place. And he's sure to make it memorable to prevent any future repeats.
He just has to find them, first.
The entire trip down takes about three minutes, but once the doors slide open, the change in the atmosphere is drastic. While the surface is well-lit and spotless, in contrast, the under is dim and coated in years worth of built-up filth. They exit out onto a grated metal platform with zero guards in sight. The exterior of the elevator shaft on this end is old and rusted, with holes patched up by random strips of sheet metal in various stages of corrosion.
It's been a couple of years since Ryuichi has been down here, and a lot, yet nothing at all, has changed between then and now. It's just as loud as he remembers with yells of an argument echoing from somewhere off in the distance, and the occasional pops of a gun firing. The lack of wind leaves the air here stagnant, the only airflow coming through large vents sporadically spaced out along the stone of the ceiling. Which does jack shit other than offer a way to filter in new air.
The Sub-Areas are sorely lacking in natural lighting, relying heavily upon artificial lights attached to the buildings, which doesn't offer much. He's aware that most inhabitants require supplements to give their bodies the vitamin D they can't receive while practically living in a cave. Whether they actually have the insurance to cover them is another problem. This succeeded in creating a demand that has brought versions of the supplements into the black market, to be sold or even traded for. Ryuichi himself doesn't care to jump into the supplement market, finding he earns significantly more with the addictive drugs, not including the income from buying and reselling weaponry and other illegal gadgets.
Synth bombs are rather popular these days, as they effectively shut down most nearby electronics by interrupting the frequency of radio waves. They're more commonly used for robberies as they block alarm systems and security cameras for a short duration.
Ryuichi sticks to the only footpath off the platform, casting a quick glance back at Kirishima and Suoh; the former failing to hide a look of disgust, and the latter as stoic as ever. They fall further behind as Ryuichi descends the stairs, and fortunately, there aren't any people mingling near the elevator, limiting the number of witnesses as it would be difficult to appear as if the three of them weren't together, considering they were the only ones that stepped off the elevator.
He follows the dusty road leading towards the first few rows of buildings, lit up by an assortment of neon signs; some blinking erratically as they come close to dying. Already, he can hear the distinct buzz of a crowd, multiple voices talking at once and blending together into an incoherent mess. As he rounds a corner, he finds the street practically crawling with pedestrians as groups or people clump together off the side of the narrow road, chatting and laughing as others rush passed in their own haste. Despite it being late into the night on the surface, the under lives on their own time, not having a sun to dictate when night and day are. Leaving people to simply sleep when they feel tired and not stick with a schedule.
Every person that Ryuichi passes, he makes sure he inspects their faces and outfits. If anyone were to try and pursue him, he'd recognize them immediately. Even if he doesn't notice them right away, Kirishima and Suoh are following far enough to not draw attention, but are still within sight, going through the same process as Ryuichi himself; memorizing faces amongst the ceaseless crowd.
Practically all the buildings here appear to have been constructed haphazardly, with no two buildings matching; whether it be in style or material, each one was rather unique, yet incoherent in whatever blueprint they followed. If they even referenced one. Most of them were in various states of falling apart, with large cracks or holes in the walls. Doors were either missing entirely or barely hanging off their hinges, yet people casually flocked in and out of them, uncaring of whose home or business they are entering. Since most of these buildings were erected with housing in mind, the shops that opened up over time can be hard to distinguish from the others. Some at least have custom posters or signage indicating what it is they sell or a service they provide, while some require knowing where they are located; usually by word of mouth.
And that's the kind of location Ryuichi is on the hunt for.
Sakazaki's shop is unmarked, only allowing those that know of him and the work he does to find him. Since the elevator let them out in Sub-Area 06, district D; they have a ways to travel. It's fortunate that Ryuichi still knows all the shortcuts and back roads –in the random maze that make up the Sub-Areas streets– that will get them to where they need to be sooner.
Now, they could have taken the Sky Tram, and he uses "sky" loosely here, as there is no actual sky. The tram runs along rails attached to the stone ceiling, making travel quicker, especially with how rapidly the Sub-Areas have been developing in size. However, the Sky Tram is typically crowded at all times of the day and precariously shaky; thus not trustworthy on whether it'll remain fastened to its tracks. Thanks to the narrow roadways, vehicles are practically useless here, which leaves walking or using the Sky Tram the only viable options to get from point A to point B.
A motorcycle can get through on the less dense streets, but with how jam-packed the populated roads are, it's easy to get trapped in the middle of a crowd. Weaving through bodies on foot and, in the end, is significantly faster.
Akihito flutters in and out of consciousness; so many times he has since lost count. Often, it's a noise or a voice that jars him awake, but with the blanket in the way, he's never able to see who or what is disturbing his rest. At one point, he's positive someone set something rather heavy on top of his cage; he remembers aggressively startling awake at the suddenness, and he was sure to make his displeasure known, with what remained of his shot voice. Which, isn't much, thanks to the initial shouting and cursing he did when he arrived here...wherever here is.
The last thing he recalls is that he was in the lab, splayed out on the metal table with a bright, fluorescent light blaring in his face. The next thing he knows, he's in a cage, as some sleaze bag with a goatee leers at him through the bars.
Thus began his verbal tirade and complete defiance; successfully pissing Goatee off.
Akihito doesn't know when, or even who, fastened the shock collar around his neck, but Goatee wasted no time in abusing its effects. So much so, that a burning sensation began on the skin hidden under the metal ring, and expanded out to the surrounding areas.
Now, Akihito has no idea how long he's been cooped up inside his tiny prison, but hunger and thirst began to creep up; and his body's poor composition leaving him unable to regulate temperature properly, has him shivering until his teeth chatter, or break out into a sweat. But once the perspiration cools, he goes right back to trembling in a nonstop, vicious cycle. The fact he's stark naked, lying atop a metal floor sure as hell doesn't help.
He's been drifting in and out of sleep for what feels like days, Akihito's not positive. As soon as he feels like he may officially fall asleep, a sudden slam scares him fully awake, eyes flying open and heart jack-rabbiting in his chest. It takes him a second to recognize it to be the sound of the door, and from what he reckons, the door is tough to open, requiring a certain amount of force to get it to move. The sound is immediately followed by a quiet curse, the voice belonging to Goatee.
However, something about his reappearance feels amiss compared to all the other times.
"Listen, a lot of shit happens every day here," Goatee says as he walks further into the room, "I really would've appreciated a heads up," he complains under his breath, but Akihito hears it anyway.
"And I'm sure you know what that all is," A new voice chimes in. Deeper, and smoother than Goatee's or any of the other "guests" that have filtered in and out since Akihito's containment here. That immediately draws his attention, as he pushes himself up onto an elbow or risk the lethargy pulling him under again. "I need information, Sakazaki. Information I know you have." The voice practically demands, leaving no room for argument. There's a cold edge in his tone, one that would probably leave most people terrified, but for some reason it causes goose bumps to rise over his flesh and a shudder to run through his body.
Weird.
But then he processes the words the man said. So Goatee's name is Sakazaki. Akihito feels as if he's heard that name a few times here, but wasn't in the right head space for his brain to retain that information. Or maybe he just didn't care enough. Either way, he knows now.
There's a soft chuckle, "I may," Sakazaki eludes, "For a price."
"Of course. Kirishima."
It's then that Akihito becomes aware of the presence of more people. He focuses his senses, detecting a total of four bodies, three closer to the door, and Sakazaki on the opposite side. One of the presence by the door moves, who Akihito assumes to be this Kirishima guy, as he crosses the room, the floor squeaking as he goes until he's near Sakazaki.
"Name your price," Kirishima says. His voice isn't as deep as the first guy, and flatter, reflecting zero emotion.
Sakazaki makes an exaggerated humming sound in thought, playing up that he's unsure of his information's worth, but even Akihito can tell he has a price in mind already, "I'd say five-million Tir with do," Akihito can hear the sneer in his tone, and practically envision the smug look shaping Sakazaki's features.
From what Akihito recalls, Tir is a digital currency that is specifically used in under-the-table dealings as it can't be tracked.
"Asami-sama?" Kirishima defers, presumably, to the guy calling the shots.
There's a pregnant pause, "Fine," Mister nice voice, aka Asami, agrees. There's more extended silence before Akihito hears a little chime.
"As always, pleasure doing business with you," Sakazaki laughs. Asami's lack of response speaks volumes, that he, in fact, does not feel the same. Akihito doesn't necessarily know the going rate for information, but he wouldn't be surprised if Sakazaki over-charged.
"Now tell me what you know."
"Yes, yes," Sakazaki dismisses, "It's been rather unruly down here the past few weeks, or was it months?" he stops to ponder briefly, "Anyway, not important. There's been a lot of material traffic; goods if you will. More than usual. Some guy going by the name Shift -dumb, I know- approached me, wanting me to buy a container of LK Assault rifles. But when I inspected that shit, they were all marked! I can't go around selling marked weapons, the fuck?"
"Get to the point," Asami practically snaps.
However, Sakazaki plows on as if Asami hadn't even spoken, "So I turned him away, told him if he wants to do business with me, he's gotta bring me goods that can't be traced back to me, y'know? He leaves, and I think nothing else of it. But about a week later, he's back, this time, with unmarked rifles. So I buy these for two-mil, right? We both go our separate ways, I distribute them to the underground population -as I do. Then three days later, guess whose back? Shift. This time, he's got two crates of tear gas. We get to talkin', or well, I do the talkin', Shift isn't great at reciprocating. So I ask where he's been getting all this merch from since I thought it weird how frequently he's been stoppin' by. Normally, I get a shipment from my regular groups once a month, and Shift here shows up three times in that same timeframe. Weird, right?"
"Very," Asami deadpans.
"But of course, he doesn't give me anything, just kinda grunts. Anyway, long story short, about a week later, one of my regulars mentions some of their wares going missing. Lo and behold, it was the second batch of rifles I purchased from Shift. Of course, I told these people shit since they didn't pay me for any information. And it's none of my business, 'cause I still got paid for reselling them."
"Do you know which group he's affiliated with?"
"Nah, didn't ask. Don't really care, if I'm being honest. As long as I get paid, I'll do business with anyone."
"What does he look like?"
This time, it sounds as if Sakazaki genuinely pauses to consider this, "Tall, muscular, blond hair, and a serious case of resting bitch face."
"Can you tell me anything else about him? Area of operation?"
"Nope, nothin'."
"One last question; has anyone brought by a shipment of knives?"
It takes Sakazaki a moment to respond, "No. Not yet at least."
There's another long, almost uncomfortable pause. Akihito is partially expecting a fight to break out; would encourage it, even. But the lapse drags on, neither party choosing to be the one to disrupt the silence first. Minutes go by, and Akihito is half tempted to say something but bites his tongue at the last second. If they choose to duke it out, then Sakazaki will most likely lose. Akihito only caught a quick glance at him, and already knew he wasn't a fighter. Hell, Akihito hasn't even seen this Asami guy, but just hearing his voice makes him sound like a capable fighter. Maybe it's his calm, collected cadence. The complete confidence that oozes out of every syllable, which is, unfairly, doing something to Akihito; something that has never happened to him before.
It's making him hot and bothered. Igniting a fire within that he never knew existed until this moment. Akihito has heard loads of people speak, but none have caused a reaction like this. Akihito couldn't give two fucks about whatever Sakazaki was saying, but his blabbing elicited a response from Asami, though, unfortunately, in short sentences. But regardless, it had Akihito listening with rapture.
The silence reigns, even as Akihito gets a brief whiff of nicotine, so faint he's unsure if he was imagining it, but then hears a quiet exhale, increasing the scent marginally, even with the minor barrier the blanket affords him. Shortly after, Akihito starts to grow woozy. He wonders if it correlates with the smell, or if he was bound for a dizzy spell; hard to say when one has been trapped inside a cage for an unknown amount of time.
Akihito shifts himself into a seated position, elbow having long grown tired from supporting his weight, hand tingly as it loses sensation. Unfortunately, as he moves his leg, he jams his toes against a bar, and a reflexive, rasped, curse falls passed his lips, "Shit." Instantly, Akihito goes still, sensing a change in the prior, tense, silence, to one of confusion.
No surprise. Akihito is pretty positive Sakazaki is the only one who knows Akihito is even here, or maybe he had forgotten all about him. Akihito doesn't even know the guy, not really, but he wouldn't put it past him to utterly forget he left someone inside a cage.
Abruptly, a presence approaches his prison, and one side of the blanket is flipped upward to drape across the top, exposing all his naked glory.
Four pairs of eyes are staring directly at him.
Suddenly self-conscious, Akihito pulls his knees to his chest, covering his modesty.
For a long moment, no one speaks a word.
Sakazaki is the first to break the silence by releasing a loud, awkward laugh, "I honestly thought he was dead." His tone is completely uncertain, and that paired with the very fake laugh, pins Sakazaki down as a liar –a shocker. Not that anyone else in the room acknowledges the statement. Akihito himself is preoccupied with taking in the appearance of the three other men.
The one closest to him, also the one to reveal Akihito, has short, dark hair and glasses. Another, nearest the door, is huge. All muscles with buzzed, blond hair, and both are entirely overdressed compared to the hoarder's treasure trove that is this room.
Last but not least, is a man in a long, worn coat. But even though he's clearly dressed down, just his entire aura reeks of wealth. His black hair is tastefully disheveled, but it's his hard, golden gaze that seems to pierce right through Akihito that makes it hard to look anywhere but him.
Feeling cornered, Akihito narrows his eyes into a glare, which only succeeds in causing the man to smirk slightly before he suddenly speaks, "Sakazaki," he begins with that delectable voice that Akihito instantly knows this man to be Asami, "What do you have here?" Asami's gaze flicks towards Sakazaki, but only for a moment, then right back to Akihito.
Sakazaki stutters and stumbles over half-words until he seems to give up, and unable to find an immediate excuse, simply falls silent.
"I doubt this is just a regular human," Asami prompts, "A RETA, perhaps?"
The man nearest, Glasses, is the one to respond, "There's a little blood under his nose, and signs of irritation around the collar. RETA's do not bleed nor bruise. Though they can pass perfectly well for a human, otherwise," At this, Sakazaki's face begins to change an interesting shade of red.
"So what makes him so special, I wonder," Asami continues to push, eyes finding Sakazaki again, "You typically don't care for anything...ordinary."
"I'm human!" Akihito finally snaps; or well, tries to. It comes out rough and not nearly as loud as he would have liked, but dammit! He's tired of them talking about him as if he isn't sitting right here, completely exposed. He may be the one trapped in a cage no bigger than a large dog kennel, but he's not stupid and he's even literate.
Akihito's voice draws Asami's piercing gaze back to him, "Yes, but that's not all, is it?"
For whatever reason, hearing that voice specifically directed at him has an involuntary shiver race through his body, nipples growing hard with the impromptu chill. Akihito's relieved his knees hide them, but the shudder itself did not go unnoticed as a flash of heat dances through Asami's eyes; there one second and gone the next.
It's actually rather fortunate that Akihitos's too weak for anything else to turn stiff. He doesn't need that embarrassment on top of everything else.
Akihito zips his lips, unable to refute Asami's claim, but also knows better than to be his own walking advertisement.
This, apparently, doesn't matter as Asami turns once again to fully regard Sakazaki, "Well?"
Akihito misses Sakazaki's weak excuse when he feels his body sway a little as the wooziness continues to increase, grasping onto a bar near his hip to keep himself upright.
"You and I both know that was a lie."
Sakazaki visibly frets, before he finally caves, "Fine! I don't know! Happy?" he snaps, "Four days ago, some guy dragged his unconscious ass here, claiming he was a Bio Spec."
Bio-engineered Species, or Bio Spec for short. Akihito bites his bottom lip, suddenly feeling very exposed and not of his lack of clothing. A bout of nausea was beginning to twist his stomach into a painful knot.
"Why would anyone bring a Bio Spec to you?" Glasses asks, perplexed.
"Hell if I know," Sakazaki rubs his neck, for all intense and purposes, appearing to be stressed by the whole situation, "Guy told me he was needing to be 're-homed', and at the time, I figured it would be easy. That I could sell him for a hefty chunk."
"Bio Spec's are heavily regulated by the government, and obtaining one can take years and cost you millions. They wouldn't allow one to be 're-homed'," Asami calmly explains, eyes narrowing, "So what aren't you telling me?"
"As I said, I figured I could get rid of him quickly and he would no longer be my problem, and I would be significantly richer from it. The problem was what the guy accidentally let slip after I already paid."
"Which was?"
Here, Sakazaki hesitates, "I asked which facility the kid came from, but the guy dodged the question, and instead let slip that what he just sold me was 'deemed a failure', and thus, needed to be relocated."
Akihito's vision tunnels as he teeters precariously side-to-side, before gravity wins, pulling him down.
"I haven't known what to do with the kid after that."
"If he was considered a failure, that would make him an illegal creation," Asami summarizes. Hearing those words causes Akihito's heart to ache, but his consciousness is slowly slipping away from him, leaving him unable to ponder why.
Akihito vaguely registers what happens next.
"Give me the keys," Asami demands, with what appears to be a gun in his hand, barrel trained on Sakazaki. Akihito can't be sure with the way his vision is fading in and out.
"What? Why?!" Sakazaki snaps, hands raised in shock surrender.
"Take it as compensation for all the half-truths you've told me today. I believe this should fully settle the five-million Tir."
Glasses kneels down by the large padlock on his cage. Akihito watches warily, but unfortunately, he's unable to remain awake for whatever Asami has planned.