[fic] Destruction (Ken + Chikusa)
Err, so I come out of my non-posting coma with a fic. I will post something of substance soon, I promise. First, I must get this monster out of the way. Gahhhh it doesn't even make sense to me. HOW DID YOU GET OVER 4,000 WORDS?! *A*
Anyway, yeah. That's all. Aww, khr_fest, how I love you... >_>
Title: Destruction (comes before rebirth)
Author/Artist: antireality
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Prompt: I -- 61. Ken/Chikusa - choices; "we could just get up and go - no one would miss us"
Word count: 4,225
Note: Somehow this turned into some kind of AU about Ken & Chikusa's adventures in one of those stereotypically unorganized mafias. I'm not quite sure how it happened, to be honest O_o
Summary: Chikusa and Ken knew what they had to do to get along, even if it meant working for the gangs they detested so much. It was never what Ken wanted and, even if he never said it, Chikusa didn't want it either.
They were used to coming home bruised and broken, beaten and sore. It was, after all, part of the job description. Not that they didn't take the chance to complain about it anyway.
"Hey, four-eyes! What do you think you're doing?!" Ken yelled, kicking his leg.
Chikusa paused, halfway through taking his top off. He looked at him curiously, then smirked. "What, you don't like what you see?" he asked, stepping sideways to dodge the rocks that flew his way.
Ken glowered. "Put your shirt back on or get into a room or something! Hey, it's not funny! Stop laughing!" he yelled, getting more and more frustrated as Chikusa continued to laugh at him.
He dropped his shirt on the ground, kicking it away to the corner. "If I wear that thing for any longer all those loose threads'll be floating through my bloodstream," he said, then started on his pants.
"Woah! Noooo you don't!" Ken yelled, running over and turning him around, shoving him into the bathroom. "You're not going starkers around me! I'll have to bleach my eyes out, pyon!"
Chikusa smirked. "Fine then. If I keep my pants on, will you help me wash my back?"
And he needed the help, too, judging by the long, angry welts cutting into his back. Most of the blood had dried by now and was most likely not his own but he would have some trouble washing it off on his own.
Ken just laughed. "Yeah, right. You've done it before on your own, one more time won't kill you," he said and then stormed out of the room, kicking the door shut behind him.
Ken was such fun to antagonize, Chikusa reckoned. It was a wonder he didn't do it more often. Oh wait, he thought, letting the water run over his shoulders. He did.
The nicest way to put it was that they worked for the mafia, but the reality of it was far worse. The men were thugs, crude scum that crawled the earth, but they were just organized enough to give the two of them jobs that paid. As long as Ken and Chikusa could show that they were as ruthless and bloodthirsty as the rest of them, they were in.
Mostly they did the grunt work and the more dangerous tasks that were given only to show that they were expendable. Ken was useful mostly for the raw force and power he showed while Chikusa was more of a strategical player. On good days, the two of them combined ade an awesome team. Every other time they were dysfunctional and unorganized and did nothing but constantly fight.
During the day, they were to stay in the underground hideout. Of course it was underground, Chikusa thought bitterly, what kind of mafia stereotype would they be without an underground hideout? It was here they would wait for their next orders, and it was here that they got most of their injuries.
During the night -- what little of it they got, anyhow -- they returned to the old amusement park. Somehow they'd stumbled across it, power and water miraculously still running, and made it their home. All they did was clean themselves up a little and sleep a few hours before they were off again.
They had no leisure time, no time to themselves. They were beaten and ate barely enough to keep them alive but whatever happened out here was infinitely better than where they used to be.
After all, they still remembered very clearly what the inside of a cage looked like.
"Hey, Kaki-pii!"
Chikusa didn't look up, just waved him away and bent over his papers. In the base, you didn't speak to each other. You just worked on what you could and at the moment, Chikusa was working on their development plans.
Of course, Ken didn't really give a shit about what the boss said they could and couldn't do. He toed the line just carefully enough not to get himself thrown out. "Oi, four-eyes! I'm talking to you!" he yelled, getting up on the table and sitting on Chikusa's papers.
Chikusa growled, glaring at the blond sitting on his work. "Whatever you've got to say had better be important otherwise Boss will skin you alive -- that is, if I don't get to you first. I hear animal skin makes a good rug."
Ken just sat there obstinately, crossing his arms and legs and refusing to move. "Guess what I heard, Kaki-pii. I heard they're sending you to infiltrate the old slaughterhouses," he said. "And guess what else I heard?" he continued after Chikusa refused to respond. "I heard that there aren't many people that come back from that place alive."
Chikusa looked at him. "What, are you worried about me?" he joked, shoving the man off his desk and off his papers.
The blond man glowered. "Hell no! I ain't worried! I'm just saying that you better come back alive or I will piss on your corpse and dance on your grave until even Hell won't take you in."
Chikusa smirked. Of course. Of course Ken wasn't concerned, but the words reminded him of something he'd said himself, years and years ago. "Lovely. I'll be sure to keep that in mind if I ever consider dying on a mission. But, you're in luck. I'm not going anywhere; you'd be useless without me, after all."
For that, Ken kicked him in the arm. "I don't need you around, you egotistical freak!" he exclaimed before scampering away.
Chikusa almost laughed at that. Even though neither of them would admit it -- they were far too proud, after all -- they knew that they depended on each other. As much as they could try to deny it, the knowledge was there and it haunted them and somehow they knew that they couldn't escape each other even if they tried.
"Kakimoto, you're wanted."
He stiffened, looked up. It wasn't the Boss, thank God; nor was it even his right-hand man. It was just a messenger; someone even lower on the food chain than he was. He nodded and quickly shuffled his papers together and leaving his little desk. The man had already disappeared -- apparently he hadn't planned on sticking around for very long.
A smart move on his part, as far as the Boss was concerned.
The short walk to where the Boss lived wasn't long or complicated, it was just a path that could only hold danger at the end. Each step was taken with caution and you counted them, wondering whether they would be some of the last steps you would ever take.
Of course, Chikusa wasn't afraid; he'd crawled too far out of the dirt to give up now. Even if that man shot him in the head, chances are he'd still be able to take out three of his men before he died out of sheer willpower.
Well, maybe not that much, he thought. Maybe just two of them.
It didn't take long to get there and when he did, he knocked on the door confidently. There was no reply -- not that he really expected one -- so he just swung the door open to announce his presence.
The Boss's "office" was more of a bedroom, really, with a huge bed and three couches and a tiny little desk, jammed into the corner. Chikusa highly doubted that anything ever happened there, unless it included one of the many woman he had crammed into the tiny room.
"Boss, you wanted me?" he asked, eyes looking anywhere but the woman that had already begun to drape themselves over his body. He'd be lying if he wasn't reacting -- hell, who wouldn't be, no matter how disgusting they thought it was? -- but he just swallowed and clenched his fists and tried as best as he could to ignore it all.
The boss looked at him, beady eyes boring into his skull. Chikusa looked right back at him as though to say "I'm not afraid of you." The man laughed and beckoned him closer. "Aah, yes. Kakimoto Chikusa, one of the new small fry. How are you liking it here?"
"Pardon me if I might say it, but small talk doesn't suit you. Sir," he added on as an afterthought, thinking that it sounded stiff and unnatural coming from his lips.
He laughed, a big, hearty laugh that, coming from him, was most definitely forced. "I like you already, Kakimoto. But you're right, there are more important things to get on to. I have a job for you; a "special request" if I do say so myself."
Chikusa nodded, casually shrugging the women off his shoulders. It took a while but they eventually got the message, sulking away with pouts on their plastic faces.
"There's a place near here that I don't like. It's stealing all our meat, as well as our best customers. So, I need you to go in there and... shake things up a little," the boss said. He wasn't even looking Chikusa's way, more occupied with what was going on on his lap; not that Chikusa really wanted the attention.
"How am I supposed to 'shake things up a little'? Surely you can't expect me to go in alone and cause any considerable amount of damage?" Chikusa asked. He was getting a really bad feeling, and it was just getting worse and worse as time wore on.
The boss smirked. "Oh, just take a bomb, a hand gun or two, you'll be fine. I've heard quite a few good things about you; I'm sure you'll be fine."
Chikusa sighed. "Yes, Boss. Now where is it I'm supposed to be going?"
He might have just been imagining it, but Chikusa could've sworn that his smile was mocking him. "The old slaughterhouses," the Boss stated before taking his papers from him and shooing him out of the room.
Chikusa stood there for a while before he remembered to move. Well. Wasn't this interesting.
He remembered something Ken said to him a while ago, during one of those rare moments they saw each other in the base.
"One of these days," he'd said, looking serious for once in his life. "One of these days, we're getting out of here. No one would miss us."
It was all he'd said before Ken was called away, and Chikusa had almost forgotten it. Somehow, at that moment he'd remembered. He wasn't sure how, wasn't even sure why, but it was there.
He considered it for a moment, thought about it for a long time. Considered just getting up and leaving, leaving everything behind. They'd done it once, they could do it again.
It was tempting, oh, so tempting. But for some reason, he didn't. Just continued on like always. Like always.
In the end, he never told Ken about it. Not that he really needed to, anyway; Ken would just punch him in the stomach and tell him to get over it, like he always had. Then again, it would have worried him even more had it been any different.
He remembered things from back in the labs, flashes of memories that he'd never gotten over. He remembered sneaking into the operating rooms, watching his friends die, one after the other. He remembered being chased and having a collar forced onto him like some low animal. He remembered the days of starvation, the nights of screams and huddling as close together as you possibly could.
Those days, no one comforted him, no one comforted anyone. Instead, Ken would punch him in the stomach and tell him to grow some balls.
He laughed. Back then, abuse that didn't come from their captors was a kind of relief; a kind of knowledge that you could still control your own fate, if only by a little. Back then, it meant a lot to him. Meant a lot to them all.
He remembered when they were small; remembered when they had broken Ken down until he was hardly worth the dirt under your show. He'd crawled towards him and told him that they were leaving. As soon as his leg healed, they were leaving.
And they did, too. Most of it was a blur for Chikusa -- too fast and too complicated and, probably, too traumatic for his mind to remember. As far as he knew, Ken had forgotten what happened as well, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that they were never going near another cage ever again.
Ken wouldn't worry. He knew that there was no chance of him dying -- they'd come too far together for one of them to drop out now. That's why he didn't say anything when he left that night.
In all honesty, Ken was sick of it all. Sick of the gang that they'd sided with, sick of the useless missions that tired him out and degraded him past the point of really being human anymore. In his mind, it wasn't any better than being back in the lab. They were still kicked around like dirt -- the only difference was that here, they were shiny dirt that gained maybe a tiny bit of respect.
He knew, even before Chikusa did, that the boss was sending him on a suicide mission. Whispers had floated down through the ranks that the two of them were beginning to worry the boss; beginning to suspect that they might try and take over his position on the top of the dog pile. The boss was getting paranoid.
They needed to be exterminated. "For the good of the gang."
Ken didn't care much for what small-minded men thought of him, nor what they tried to do to get rid of him. He just sat there and picked fights and waited for his next job, if there was one coming. Sometimes he'd have to wait for days on end before anything came for him.
He could hear them whispering behind his back, talking sometimes about the two of them, sometimes about other people. Always talking, always whispering; it was how information floated through the ranks, be it true or false.
"Hey, guess what I heard?"
As much as it irritated him, his ears couldn't help but pick up everything anyone said. If he were like Chikusa, he could sort the information in his head, compare it with what he already knew and determine what to make of it, but he didn't have the patience for something like that. He just chucked the information somewhere at the back of his head and forgot about it.
"The boss sent that kid to the slaughterhouse, did you know?"
"Yeah, I heard. No one's come back from there before, not even Boss's old right-hand man..."
Ken sighed. Of course they were talking about Chikusa, and he laughed at them calling him a "kid". They didn't have anything to worry about, though; there was absolutely no way he was going to let Chikusa die in a clichéd place like that. He would never let him live it down if he did.
Besides, Chikusa was far too proud to let it happen.
Still, there was an air of uncertainty and Ken couldn't let it rest. To use the commonly abused cliché, this was something he had to do himself.
Infiltrating the slaughterhouse could hardly be considered a challenge, Chikusa reckoned. The extent of their security might as well have been a few scary-looking dogs for all the difficulty it posed. It was ridiculous, really; he'd managed to sneak in with a bagful of explosives without so much as a siren going off.
Then again, he thought as he carefully made his way down the darker corridors, it could all be a trap. He wasn't stupid, he knew the boss wanted them gone, and this was quite likely his way of telling him he was fired.
Nevertheless, there was no use thinking about it, turning it over in his mind. He had no doubt that things would eventually unravel themselves; whether by his own hands or the boss's own free will had nothing to do with it. Right now all that mattered was that he had a job to do and goddamn was he going to do it well.
It wasn't too hard for him to keep to the shadows, keep quiet, silence those who saw him as quickly as possible. In his mind he knew where to go, which corners to turn; he'd slaved over the slaughterhouse's blueprints for days on end before he went anywhere near it. He knew where he was going, and which rooms were more likely to have people in it.
Right now it was nearing two in the morning and all but the most important people were sleeping. That was fine; it wasn't a job based around killing so much as it depended on simple, easy destruction. Destruction was easy, it was mindless, not something that required you to think. Perfect for people like Ken, then, Chikusa thought, and laughed.
He tensed, sinking down under a nook in the wall as he heard footsteps running towards where he was standing. He quieted his breath, stilled his heart and listened.
"Something's happened."
"What's going on?"
"An intruder?"
"Boss wants everyone meeting at the usual place. I don't care about your sleep! Get your lazy asses up and marching before you find my foot where your lungs should be!"
Chikusa carefully melted into the small group that had formed in front of him and followed them as they ran down the corridors. Something had gone awry deeper in the slaughterhouses, and this was probably the easiest way to get around. Surprisingly no one questioned him and was quick to dismiss his backpack when he said it was "For the Boss's eyes only."
He could hear voices now, loud riotous noises and angry yells and one unmistakeable voice.
"Get out of my way, pyon!"
Chikusa stiffened, realizing just who it was that had managed to break into the slaughterhouses as well. Of course, it just had to be Ken; who else would be able to fuck things up as badly as to have the whole building out for his skin without actually doing anything?
At that point he was past thinking, relying on instincts that he'd spent years perfecting. He pulled out a pair of yo-yos -- a strange weapon, he would admit, but each needle was tipped with a very lethal poison that, depending on the intent, would leave you dead by the end of the day.
"Ken, you fool!" he yelled, attracting the attention of not only the blond man but also everyone else that happened to be standing nearby. They reacted quickly, missing barely a beat before they were on them, lashing out with whatever they could.
A primitive bunch of fools, Chikusa reckoned.
Ken grinned, bowling through the slowly massing crowd of people to stand by his side. "Thought you might need some help, Kaki-pii. You're useless without me, after all~" he laughed, swiping at whoever managed to come near.
Chikusa didn't reply, flicking his yo-yos back and forth, striking as many people as he could and watching them fall. He had two handguns in his bag but they were more of a last resort that anything. Guns were inefficient in large crowds; only one bullet at a time, one person down at a time. Chikusa couldn't afford inefficiency.
He carefully manipulated himself so that his backpack was hanging on his front and pulled out a bomb. He set the timer, lobbed it into the crowd and yelled for Ken to pull back. Ken nodded, mauling through the crowd with Chikusa following closely after.
"Oof-- ow," Chikusa grunted, falling to the ground as the small bomb exploded, a deep boom resonating quietly through the air. Looking back, he could feel the heat against his face, watching as a budding fire clung to the debris and the few bodies lying on the ground.
Ken's grin stretched across his face, making him look like a satisfied cat. "I told you you couldn't do anything without me!"
Chikusa sighed, quickly getting back up on his feet. "Ken, they're coming."
"My time to shine, pyon!" he exclaimed, running towards the people coming his way. He was quicker than them all; much, much quicker than the average human man. He was feral, ferocious and wild and had abilities that most people wouldn't even dream of having -- all at the price of a broken childhood and losing what innocence he might have had far too early.
Chikusa was reminded of it every day, every minute he spent with Ken. Most would call them unfortunate, maybe feel a little sympathy for them, even, but Chikusa didn't despise his past. If anything, he was glad for it. Because of that, he knew exactly what it took to stay alive in his world of destruction.
Most would call them unfortunate, but neither of them really regretted it. All they regretted was the years of being locked in a cage, doing nothing to fight back.
They were going to get those years back if they had to drag it kicking and screaming from the dying hands of a desperate, dying man.
That morning, many died in the old slaughterhouses. Still cooling corpses lay across the floor, oozing blood over paperwork that revealed the human trafficking that was going on behind the stone walls.
Ken and Chikusa found people, more people in cages just like they were. Their faces were cast downwards and skin clung to their bones. When Chikusa lifted their faces they didn't respond, just stared at him blankly, looking at him with dead eyes.
"What are you going to do with them?" Ken asked curiously, playing with an arm through the bars of the cage.
Chikusa stood up and walked away, disgusted. "Leave them," he said, not looking back. "They're dead anyway."
Ken nodded, not saying anything as Chikusa took one of the bigger bombs from his bag and put it down under one of the tables. He recognized the dead look they gave him, too. They were all too similar to the expressions of his friends, of the friends he left behind in the labs. There was no coming back for them.
They ran. Ran through the corridors, through the people that tried to stop them, away from the source of so much carnage as Chikusa dropped as many bombs as he could. He felt them go off through the building, one after another and slowly, things came crashing down and the fire was raging high, high above the ground.
They left the slaughterhouses, then, and were completely silent as they walked back to their own hideout. They were still silent as they cleaned themselves up, washing off the blood and treating the many burns scattered across their bodies. For once they helped each other, quietly going about what was now a ritual.
And then, after that was finished and done, they slept.
They went back to the base, much to everyone's surprised. No one actually expected them to still be alive, not when the boss practically ordered their deaths. But the two of them had come back anyway, Ken as loud as always and Chikusa as cautious and plotting.
There was no way they were going down. Not now, not ever.
Days turned to weeks, weeks to months as Ken and Chikusa stayed on, through the horrible jobs and the things the boss made them do. Ken hated it, hated the way they were still being treated even though they were possibly some of the best at their jobs, but there wasn't really anything they could do.
Chikusa yawned, dropping down onto the couch. It was then that Ken stormed through the door and into one of their rooms. He came out a few minutes later, threw a bag Chikusa's way and didn't say anything. He didn't need to; Chikusa knew exactly what he wanted.
[One of these days, we'll get out of here.]
Barely ten minutes later they'd already left their hideout, all their worldly possessions slung over their backs. They caught a train out of the city, going as far away as they could from that life. These people didn't know who they were, didn't know what kind of lives they'd been living. With their passably tidy clothes and brushed back hair, they could've been your average salaryman.
The arrived at a train station some five hours away from where they started. It was getting dark and they didn't really have anywhere to go but what mattered was that they were away from that place, away from the horrible pay and the horrible jobs and the horrible people.
"Kufufu, what do we have here? Yesterdays trash?"
Ken growled and Chikusa narrowed his eyes. The man was dangerous and they both knew it, with his smirking eyes and cocky posture just daring them to fight back.
It wasn't much of a new beginning but they did what they could, took what chances were thrown their way. If they had to go from being one person's slave to another, then so be it. As long as they were alive, that was all that really mattered.
>>END
Anyway, yeah. That's all. Aww, khr_fest, how I love you... >_>
Title: Destruction (comes before rebirth)
Author/Artist: antireality
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Prompt: I -- 61. Ken/Chikusa - choices; "we could just get up and go - no one would miss us"
Word count: 4,225
Note: Somehow this turned into some kind of AU about Ken & Chikusa's adventures in one of those stereotypically unorganized mafias. I'm not quite sure how it happened, to be honest O_o
Summary: Chikusa and Ken knew what they had to do to get along, even if it meant working for the gangs they detested so much. It was never what Ken wanted and, even if he never said it, Chikusa didn't want it either.
They were used to coming home bruised and broken, beaten and sore. It was, after all, part of the job description. Not that they didn't take the chance to complain about it anyway.
"Hey, four-eyes! What do you think you're doing?!" Ken yelled, kicking his leg.
Chikusa paused, halfway through taking his top off. He looked at him curiously, then smirked. "What, you don't like what you see?" he asked, stepping sideways to dodge the rocks that flew his way.
Ken glowered. "Put your shirt back on or get into a room or something! Hey, it's not funny! Stop laughing!" he yelled, getting more and more frustrated as Chikusa continued to laugh at him.
He dropped his shirt on the ground, kicking it away to the corner. "If I wear that thing for any longer all those loose threads'll be floating through my bloodstream," he said, then started on his pants.
"Woah! Noooo you don't!" Ken yelled, running over and turning him around, shoving him into the bathroom. "You're not going starkers around me! I'll have to bleach my eyes out, pyon!"
Chikusa smirked. "Fine then. If I keep my pants on, will you help me wash my back?"
And he needed the help, too, judging by the long, angry welts cutting into his back. Most of the blood had dried by now and was most likely not his own but he would have some trouble washing it off on his own.
Ken just laughed. "Yeah, right. You've done it before on your own, one more time won't kill you," he said and then stormed out of the room, kicking the door shut behind him.
Ken was such fun to antagonize, Chikusa reckoned. It was a wonder he didn't do it more often. Oh wait, he thought, letting the water run over his shoulders. He did.
The nicest way to put it was that they worked for the mafia, but the reality of it was far worse. The men were thugs, crude scum that crawled the earth, but they were just organized enough to give the two of them jobs that paid. As long as Ken and Chikusa could show that they were as ruthless and bloodthirsty as the rest of them, they were in.
Mostly they did the grunt work and the more dangerous tasks that were given only to show that they were expendable. Ken was useful mostly for the raw force and power he showed while Chikusa was more of a strategical player. On good days, the two of them combined ade an awesome team. Every other time they were dysfunctional and unorganized and did nothing but constantly fight.
During the day, they were to stay in the underground hideout. Of course it was underground, Chikusa thought bitterly, what kind of mafia stereotype would they be without an underground hideout? It was here they would wait for their next orders, and it was here that they got most of their injuries.
During the night -- what little of it they got, anyhow -- they returned to the old amusement park. Somehow they'd stumbled across it, power and water miraculously still running, and made it their home. All they did was clean themselves up a little and sleep a few hours before they were off again.
They had no leisure time, no time to themselves. They were beaten and ate barely enough to keep them alive but whatever happened out here was infinitely better than where they used to be.
After all, they still remembered very clearly what the inside of a cage looked like.
"Hey, Kaki-pii!"
Chikusa didn't look up, just waved him away and bent over his papers. In the base, you didn't speak to each other. You just worked on what you could and at the moment, Chikusa was working on their development plans.
Of course, Ken didn't really give a shit about what the boss said they could and couldn't do. He toed the line just carefully enough not to get himself thrown out. "Oi, four-eyes! I'm talking to you!" he yelled, getting up on the table and sitting on Chikusa's papers.
Chikusa growled, glaring at the blond sitting on his work. "Whatever you've got to say had better be important otherwise Boss will skin you alive -- that is, if I don't get to you first. I hear animal skin makes a good rug."
Ken just sat there obstinately, crossing his arms and legs and refusing to move. "Guess what I heard, Kaki-pii. I heard they're sending you to infiltrate the old slaughterhouses," he said. "And guess what else I heard?" he continued after Chikusa refused to respond. "I heard that there aren't many people that come back from that place alive."
Chikusa looked at him. "What, are you worried about me?" he joked, shoving the man off his desk and off his papers.
The blond man glowered. "Hell no! I ain't worried! I'm just saying that you better come back alive or I will piss on your corpse and dance on your grave until even Hell won't take you in."
Chikusa smirked. Of course. Of course Ken wasn't concerned, but the words reminded him of something he'd said himself, years and years ago. "Lovely. I'll be sure to keep that in mind if I ever consider dying on a mission. But, you're in luck. I'm not going anywhere; you'd be useless without me, after all."
For that, Ken kicked him in the arm. "I don't need you around, you egotistical freak!" he exclaimed before scampering away.
Chikusa almost laughed at that. Even though neither of them would admit it -- they were far too proud, after all -- they knew that they depended on each other. As much as they could try to deny it, the knowledge was there and it haunted them and somehow they knew that they couldn't escape each other even if they tried.
"Kakimoto, you're wanted."
He stiffened, looked up. It wasn't the Boss, thank God; nor was it even his right-hand man. It was just a messenger; someone even lower on the food chain than he was. He nodded and quickly shuffled his papers together and leaving his little desk. The man had already disappeared -- apparently he hadn't planned on sticking around for very long.
A smart move on his part, as far as the Boss was concerned.
The short walk to where the Boss lived wasn't long or complicated, it was just a path that could only hold danger at the end. Each step was taken with caution and you counted them, wondering whether they would be some of the last steps you would ever take.
Of course, Chikusa wasn't afraid; he'd crawled too far out of the dirt to give up now. Even if that man shot him in the head, chances are he'd still be able to take out three of his men before he died out of sheer willpower.
Well, maybe not that much, he thought. Maybe just two of them.
It didn't take long to get there and when he did, he knocked on the door confidently. There was no reply -- not that he really expected one -- so he just swung the door open to announce his presence.
The Boss's "office" was more of a bedroom, really, with a huge bed and three couches and a tiny little desk, jammed into the corner. Chikusa highly doubted that anything ever happened there, unless it included one of the many woman he had crammed into the tiny room.
"Boss, you wanted me?" he asked, eyes looking anywhere but the woman that had already begun to drape themselves over his body. He'd be lying if he wasn't reacting -- hell, who wouldn't be, no matter how disgusting they thought it was? -- but he just swallowed and clenched his fists and tried as best as he could to ignore it all.
The boss looked at him, beady eyes boring into his skull. Chikusa looked right back at him as though to say "I'm not afraid of you." The man laughed and beckoned him closer. "Aah, yes. Kakimoto Chikusa, one of the new small fry. How are you liking it here?"
"Pardon me if I might say it, but small talk doesn't suit you. Sir," he added on as an afterthought, thinking that it sounded stiff and unnatural coming from his lips.
He laughed, a big, hearty laugh that, coming from him, was most definitely forced. "I like you already, Kakimoto. But you're right, there are more important things to get on to. I have a job for you; a "special request" if I do say so myself."
Chikusa nodded, casually shrugging the women off his shoulders. It took a while but they eventually got the message, sulking away with pouts on their plastic faces.
"There's a place near here that I don't like. It's stealing all our meat, as well as our best customers. So, I need you to go in there and... shake things up a little," the boss said. He wasn't even looking Chikusa's way, more occupied with what was going on on his lap; not that Chikusa really wanted the attention.
"How am I supposed to 'shake things up a little'? Surely you can't expect me to go in alone and cause any considerable amount of damage?" Chikusa asked. He was getting a really bad feeling, and it was just getting worse and worse as time wore on.
The boss smirked. "Oh, just take a bomb, a hand gun or two, you'll be fine. I've heard quite a few good things about you; I'm sure you'll be fine."
Chikusa sighed. "Yes, Boss. Now where is it I'm supposed to be going?"
He might have just been imagining it, but Chikusa could've sworn that his smile was mocking him. "The old slaughterhouses," the Boss stated before taking his papers from him and shooing him out of the room.
Chikusa stood there for a while before he remembered to move. Well. Wasn't this interesting.
He remembered something Ken said to him a while ago, during one of those rare moments they saw each other in the base.
"One of these days," he'd said, looking serious for once in his life. "One of these days, we're getting out of here. No one would miss us."
It was all he'd said before Ken was called away, and Chikusa had almost forgotten it. Somehow, at that moment he'd remembered. He wasn't sure how, wasn't even sure why, but it was there.
He considered it for a moment, thought about it for a long time. Considered just getting up and leaving, leaving everything behind. They'd done it once, they could do it again.
It was tempting, oh, so tempting. But for some reason, he didn't. Just continued on like always. Like always.
In the end, he never told Ken about it. Not that he really needed to, anyway; Ken would just punch him in the stomach and tell him to get over it, like he always had. Then again, it would have worried him even more had it been any different.
He remembered things from back in the labs, flashes of memories that he'd never gotten over. He remembered sneaking into the operating rooms, watching his friends die, one after the other. He remembered being chased and having a collar forced onto him like some low animal. He remembered the days of starvation, the nights of screams and huddling as close together as you possibly could.
Those days, no one comforted him, no one comforted anyone. Instead, Ken would punch him in the stomach and tell him to grow some balls.
He laughed. Back then, abuse that didn't come from their captors was a kind of relief; a kind of knowledge that you could still control your own fate, if only by a little. Back then, it meant a lot to him. Meant a lot to them all.
He remembered when they were small; remembered when they had broken Ken down until he was hardly worth the dirt under your show. He'd crawled towards him and told him that they were leaving. As soon as his leg healed, they were leaving.
And they did, too. Most of it was a blur for Chikusa -- too fast and too complicated and, probably, too traumatic for his mind to remember. As far as he knew, Ken had forgotten what happened as well, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that they were never going near another cage ever again.
Ken wouldn't worry. He knew that there was no chance of him dying -- they'd come too far together for one of them to drop out now. That's why he didn't say anything when he left that night.
In all honesty, Ken was sick of it all. Sick of the gang that they'd sided with, sick of the useless missions that tired him out and degraded him past the point of really being human anymore. In his mind, it wasn't any better than being back in the lab. They were still kicked around like dirt -- the only difference was that here, they were shiny dirt that gained maybe a tiny bit of respect.
He knew, even before Chikusa did, that the boss was sending him on a suicide mission. Whispers had floated down through the ranks that the two of them were beginning to worry the boss; beginning to suspect that they might try and take over his position on the top of the dog pile. The boss was getting paranoid.
They needed to be exterminated. "For the good of the gang."
Ken didn't care much for what small-minded men thought of him, nor what they tried to do to get rid of him. He just sat there and picked fights and waited for his next job, if there was one coming. Sometimes he'd have to wait for days on end before anything came for him.
He could hear them whispering behind his back, talking sometimes about the two of them, sometimes about other people. Always talking, always whispering; it was how information floated through the ranks, be it true or false.
"Hey, guess what I heard?"
As much as it irritated him, his ears couldn't help but pick up everything anyone said. If he were like Chikusa, he could sort the information in his head, compare it with what he already knew and determine what to make of it, but he didn't have the patience for something like that. He just chucked the information somewhere at the back of his head and forgot about it.
"The boss sent that kid to the slaughterhouse, did you know?"
"Yeah, I heard. No one's come back from there before, not even Boss's old right-hand man..."
Ken sighed. Of course they were talking about Chikusa, and he laughed at them calling him a "kid". They didn't have anything to worry about, though; there was absolutely no way he was going to let Chikusa die in a clichéd place like that. He would never let him live it down if he did.
Besides, Chikusa was far too proud to let it happen.
Still, there was an air of uncertainty and Ken couldn't let it rest. To use the commonly abused cliché, this was something he had to do himself.
Infiltrating the slaughterhouse could hardly be considered a challenge, Chikusa reckoned. The extent of their security might as well have been a few scary-looking dogs for all the difficulty it posed. It was ridiculous, really; he'd managed to sneak in with a bagful of explosives without so much as a siren going off.
Then again, he thought as he carefully made his way down the darker corridors, it could all be a trap. He wasn't stupid, he knew the boss wanted them gone, and this was quite likely his way of telling him he was fired.
Nevertheless, there was no use thinking about it, turning it over in his mind. He had no doubt that things would eventually unravel themselves; whether by his own hands or the boss's own free will had nothing to do with it. Right now all that mattered was that he had a job to do and goddamn was he going to do it well.
It wasn't too hard for him to keep to the shadows, keep quiet, silence those who saw him as quickly as possible. In his mind he knew where to go, which corners to turn; he'd slaved over the slaughterhouse's blueprints for days on end before he went anywhere near it. He knew where he was going, and which rooms were more likely to have people in it.
Right now it was nearing two in the morning and all but the most important people were sleeping. That was fine; it wasn't a job based around killing so much as it depended on simple, easy destruction. Destruction was easy, it was mindless, not something that required you to think. Perfect for people like Ken, then, Chikusa thought, and laughed.
He tensed, sinking down under a nook in the wall as he heard footsteps running towards where he was standing. He quieted his breath, stilled his heart and listened.
"Something's happened."
"What's going on?"
"An intruder?"
"Boss wants everyone meeting at the usual place. I don't care about your sleep! Get your lazy asses up and marching before you find my foot where your lungs should be!"
Chikusa carefully melted into the small group that had formed in front of him and followed them as they ran down the corridors. Something had gone awry deeper in the slaughterhouses, and this was probably the easiest way to get around. Surprisingly no one questioned him and was quick to dismiss his backpack when he said it was "For the Boss's eyes only."
He could hear voices now, loud riotous noises and angry yells and one unmistakeable voice.
"Get out of my way, pyon!"
Chikusa stiffened, realizing just who it was that had managed to break into the slaughterhouses as well. Of course, it just had to be Ken; who else would be able to fuck things up as badly as to have the whole building out for his skin without actually doing anything?
At that point he was past thinking, relying on instincts that he'd spent years perfecting. He pulled out a pair of yo-yos -- a strange weapon, he would admit, but each needle was tipped with a very lethal poison that, depending on the intent, would leave you dead by the end of the day.
"Ken, you fool!" he yelled, attracting the attention of not only the blond man but also everyone else that happened to be standing nearby. They reacted quickly, missing barely a beat before they were on them, lashing out with whatever they could.
A primitive bunch of fools, Chikusa reckoned.
Ken grinned, bowling through the slowly massing crowd of people to stand by his side. "Thought you might need some help, Kaki-pii. You're useless without me, after all~" he laughed, swiping at whoever managed to come near.
Chikusa didn't reply, flicking his yo-yos back and forth, striking as many people as he could and watching them fall. He had two handguns in his bag but they were more of a last resort that anything. Guns were inefficient in large crowds; only one bullet at a time, one person down at a time. Chikusa couldn't afford inefficiency.
He carefully manipulated himself so that his backpack was hanging on his front and pulled out a bomb. He set the timer, lobbed it into the crowd and yelled for Ken to pull back. Ken nodded, mauling through the crowd with Chikusa following closely after.
"Oof-- ow," Chikusa grunted, falling to the ground as the small bomb exploded, a deep boom resonating quietly through the air. Looking back, he could feel the heat against his face, watching as a budding fire clung to the debris and the few bodies lying on the ground.
Ken's grin stretched across his face, making him look like a satisfied cat. "I told you you couldn't do anything without me!"
Chikusa sighed, quickly getting back up on his feet. "Ken, they're coming."
"My time to shine, pyon!" he exclaimed, running towards the people coming his way. He was quicker than them all; much, much quicker than the average human man. He was feral, ferocious and wild and had abilities that most people wouldn't even dream of having -- all at the price of a broken childhood and losing what innocence he might have had far too early.
Chikusa was reminded of it every day, every minute he spent with Ken. Most would call them unfortunate, maybe feel a little sympathy for them, even, but Chikusa didn't despise his past. If anything, he was glad for it. Because of that, he knew exactly what it took to stay alive in his world of destruction.
Most would call them unfortunate, but neither of them really regretted it. All they regretted was the years of being locked in a cage, doing nothing to fight back.
They were going to get those years back if they had to drag it kicking and screaming from the dying hands of a desperate, dying man.
That morning, many died in the old slaughterhouses. Still cooling corpses lay across the floor, oozing blood over paperwork that revealed the human trafficking that was going on behind the stone walls.
Ken and Chikusa found people, more people in cages just like they were. Their faces were cast downwards and skin clung to their bones. When Chikusa lifted their faces they didn't respond, just stared at him blankly, looking at him with dead eyes.
"What are you going to do with them?" Ken asked curiously, playing with an arm through the bars of the cage.
Chikusa stood up and walked away, disgusted. "Leave them," he said, not looking back. "They're dead anyway."
Ken nodded, not saying anything as Chikusa took one of the bigger bombs from his bag and put it down under one of the tables. He recognized the dead look they gave him, too. They were all too similar to the expressions of his friends, of the friends he left behind in the labs. There was no coming back for them.
They ran. Ran through the corridors, through the people that tried to stop them, away from the source of so much carnage as Chikusa dropped as many bombs as he could. He felt them go off through the building, one after another and slowly, things came crashing down and the fire was raging high, high above the ground.
They left the slaughterhouses, then, and were completely silent as they walked back to their own hideout. They were still silent as they cleaned themselves up, washing off the blood and treating the many burns scattered across their bodies. For once they helped each other, quietly going about what was now a ritual.
And then, after that was finished and done, they slept.
They went back to the base, much to everyone's surprised. No one actually expected them to still be alive, not when the boss practically ordered their deaths. But the two of them had come back anyway, Ken as loud as always and Chikusa as cautious and plotting.
There was no way they were going down. Not now, not ever.
Days turned to weeks, weeks to months as Ken and Chikusa stayed on, through the horrible jobs and the things the boss made them do. Ken hated it, hated the way they were still being treated even though they were possibly some of the best at their jobs, but there wasn't really anything they could do.
Chikusa yawned, dropping down onto the couch. It was then that Ken stormed through the door and into one of their rooms. He came out a few minutes later, threw a bag Chikusa's way and didn't say anything. He didn't need to; Chikusa knew exactly what he wanted.
[One of these days, we'll get out of here.]
Barely ten minutes later they'd already left their hideout, all their worldly possessions slung over their backs. They caught a train out of the city, going as far away as they could from that life. These people didn't know who they were, didn't know what kind of lives they'd been living. With their passably tidy clothes and brushed back hair, they could've been your average salaryman.
The arrived at a train station some five hours away from where they started. It was getting dark and they didn't really have anywhere to go but what mattered was that they were away from that place, away from the horrible pay and the horrible jobs and the horrible people.
"Kufufu, what do we have here? Yesterdays trash?"
Ken growled and Chikusa narrowed his eyes. The man was dangerous and they both knew it, with his smirking eyes and cocky posture just daring them to fight back.
It wasn't much of a new beginning but they did what they could, took what chances were thrown their way. If they had to go from being one person's slave to another, then so be it. As long as they were alive, that was all that really mattered.
>>END