1

Supremacy

Niragi

Silence lingered around the room. Utter silence as they all stared at the radio placed in the centre of the table they crowded around. It had been too long. Too long since the last update on tonights game. It was a spades game, a physical game. Right up general Aguni's alley. And yet.. It had simply been too long. Niragi drummed his fingers on the table and cracked his neck before he smirked in Hatter's direction.

"Guess they're all..", he began but found himself cut off by Hatter's growl.

"They are not dead," Hatter spat at Niragi, his dark eyes unyielding.

This was why Hatter was their leader. No matter how much kindness and humour he showed people, he still knew exactly when to drop that mask. Knew exactly what his entourage was thinking and how to plan the next steps so they could escape the Borderlands.

Takeru Danma or Hatter, as he was known amongst all members of the Beach, was their Number One and lead one of the two factions that governed the Beach. General Aguni, their Number Two, lead the other.

The tension between these two factions, the Executives under Hatter's rule and the Militant Corps, under Aguni's, ran high, and everyone was waiting for the day they'd finally clash. Of course the Militants would win that battle, they were the only ones with access to weapons, Niragi told himself. But so far Hatter had managed to keep general Aguni and his lackeys at bay.

"The game should be finished by now, we all know that," Niragi cocked his head playfully as he paused, "and I bet Chishiya was one of the first to bite the bullet. But for the General not to answer the radio after a spades game..." he clicked his tongue.

They all stared at Niragi, he could feel their eyes on him as he held Hatters gaze. That's it. Niragi thought. Show us just how powerless you really are.

Hatter's eyes flicked to the radio before reaching for it. He wouldn't give Niragi what he wanted. Wouldn't let him get under his skin so he began, "You know I can't help but wonder Niragi..." He paused, waiting for Niragi to take the bait. He didn't continue until Niragi finally cleared his throat and asked, "wonder what?"

Hatter smirked at the subtle annoyance in his tone before he continued, the radio now resting in his palm. " I can't help but wonder why, out of all people, it is Chishiya you hate the most. It's almost as if you were scared of him."

Niragi heard the others chuckle. He clenched his left fist hidden under the table, his right still drumming on the table casually. They were laughing at him. Like he was some kind of joke, just like they did way back when.. No. He told himself. He would not let his thoughts go there.

He released a breath, he wasn't aware he'd been holding, before slamming that door in his mind shut. Cold fury blazed in his eyes as he glared at Hatter, who had already turned his attention to the radio in his hand, and raised it up to his face.

"The answer is in our hands. Get back now," Hatter ordered through the radio.

"Hello?" a strangers voice answered.

The corners of Niragi's mouth quirked up. Perhaps Aguni really had lost the game. That would explain why a stranger had gotten his hands on his radio.

"I repeat. The answer is in our hands. Get back to the Beach."

The Beach, originally known as 'Resort Hotel Tama Pacific Beach' in the old world, was Hatter's idea of a utopia. The only place in Tokyo's twenty-three wards with electricity, that wasn't controlled by game masters, working cars and a common goal – to gather all the game cards and send a player back to the real world. And Hatter, being Number One, would be the first to go. If he survived that long of course. Niragi, was Number Four, and general Aguni's second in command. If one of them died, everyone else would move up a number, and be one step closer to going home.

Hatter placed the radio back onto the table in front of him. "You are dismissed." His voice was firm. Niragi couldn't help but notice the slight tinge of worry in Hatter's tone. He itched to use that observation against him. Force the others to laugh at Hatter, force them to doubt him.

Swallowing his pride, his head turned towards the other executives, now getting up from their seats to leave Hatter to his scheming.

A pair of eyes locked with his across the table. Mira made no indication of getting up from her seat as she stared at Niragi, and a feeling of dread made his blood run cold. It was like she could see right through him. Like all his secrets, his lies, his shame were exposed and she could see it all laid out before her. The same way Chishiya always did.

Despite his heart hammering against his chest, Niragi winked at her and ran his pierced tongue over his lips before leaping out of his seat. He quickly grabbed his gun resting on the table in front of him and threw it over his shoulder.

"Let us know when you find their cold, dead bodies," he mused and stalked out of the meeting room, head held high. He had to get away from this group and find a place to deal with his rage. Somewhere no one could witness just how much Hatter and the others had gotten under his skin tonight. Except this hadn't been a one off. Lately Niragi found himself tumbling into the darkness of his past more than he'd like to admit. And that made him vulnerable. I will not be weak, he repeated to himself as he blindly made his way to the pool bar, the weight of his rifle on his shoulder the only source of comfort.

Loud music was blaring from speakers all around the pool area. Like every night most of the Beach's members, now back from their games, were out here partying, savouring what little time they might have left. The crowd parted at the sight of him, desperate to get out of his way, to avoid falling victim to his unpredictable wrath. I am not weak. They fear me. I will never be weak again.

"Move," he growled as he pushed the bartender out of the way a little harder than he'd planned. Glass shattered behind him, but he didn't care. Why should he? No one had ever cared about him, so why would he extend a kindness he had never known - to a stranger, of all people. He closed his eyes for a split second and shook the thoughts from his head. "I will not be weak," he whispered to himself as he scanned the cupboards for something strong to drink.

"You need stitches," a worried voice rang behind him. Unable to decide what he wanted, he randomly snatched two full bottles and turned around. He briefly studied the scene before him, broken glass scattered across the floor, drops of fresh blood reflecting the lights dancing around them.

"Did you have to push him!?" Niragi's head snapped toward the voice, his eyes meeting those of a young woman - a girl, really. Anger and annoyance painted her face. He didn't know her, didn't know if he'd seen her before, if she was new here or not. Not that it made a difference. He didn't know most of the Beach's members, didn't bother getting to know them. He knew most wouldn't survive the games. So why waste his time?

Niragi shrugged slightly and moved to head to the door that led to the hotels wing he lived in. Part of him knew exactly what would happen next. Yet some small part in him begged him to get away, to overhear her next words. Glass crunched beneath his boots as he moved away from the injured bartender. Three steps. He'd made it only three steps when the girl spoke again, his back now turned to her.

"You're a fucking coward."

Niragi sucked in a breath and halted. He could feel the gathered crowd around them tense. There it was. The last little push that unleashed his memories, made them flood through the door he'd fought so hard to keep closed. Before his mind's eye he saw that baseball flying at him, felt the crunch of shattering bone as it collided with his face, could feel the blood gushing down his chin. But most of all he could hear their laughs, their threats, their mocking words. Coward, loser, pathetic. The words rang in his ears. That's what they'd called him. Every single day. For years.

Coward. In a split second he pivoted. Loser. He barely registered the sound of shattering glass as he dropped the bottles of alcohol he'd been holding. Pathetic. Two steps was all he needed to close the distance, gun aimed at her head.

"Say that again," he dared, resting the muzzle of his gun against her forehead. Rage drowned his thoughts, numbing his mind and body. He let it rush through him, welcomed it. Anything was better than remembering. He'd lash out at anyone who made him feel that fear again. He didn't give a damn how many people died by his hand. Anger was the easiest way to distract his mind from the sorrow that threatened to consume him. "Say it!" he yelled, pressing the gun closer to her head. The music stopped, heads snapped in their direction. He hadn't yelled that loud, had he? Tears streamed down the girl's cheeks as she closed her eyes, her body shaking with fear.

Niragi was suddenly painfully aware of the crowds eyes resting on him. He could feel them holding their breath. One question currently flashing through their minds. Would he do it? Was he going to shoot her?

That's it. Fear me. For I am not weak. Witnessing the fear on those pathetic faces calmed him. He was in control now. Safe.

His gaze fell back upon the girl whimpering beneath the touch of his gun. He cracked a wicked smile and purred. "Who's the coward now?"

The girl sobbed, her shoulders shaking with fear, which only made him shove the muzzle of his gun to her head harder. "Well!?" She flinched as he raised his voice.

"Yeah I thought so," Niragi let out a mocking snort, before sighing dramatically and paused.

"But. I'm feeling generous today," Niragi finally finished, basking in the attention and fear of the surrounding crowd.

He lowered his gun, head cocked playfully and watched as the girl before him crumpled with relief.

"Pathetic. You'll never survive this place," Niragi spat as he straightened, then slung his gun over his shoulder and left. Glass crunched beneath his boots with every step. He stopped for a brief moment to grab a bottle of booze at the bar and left the gawking crowd behind him. All he wanted now, was to make it to his room, and make damn sure not a single drop of liquid remained in the bottle he was holding by dawn.