The White Room Dropout - A CotE Fanfic

Part 46: The White Room Dropout

Guam, United States...

Concealed beneath the thick canopy of palm trees and hidden from public eye, there lay a secret facility of immense importance. It was a place known to only a select few, a clandestine operation buried deep within the bowels of the earth.

The dimly lit corridors of the facility echoed with the sound of echoing footsteps as a man, tall and imposing, made his way through the maze-like halls. He wore a crisp black suit that spoke of authority, and his steely gaze hinted at a determination honed through years of secrecy and deception. Every inch of him exuded an aura of power and control.

Finally, he came to a halt in front of a nondescript cell door. With a nod to the guard standing by, the heavy metal door was pushed open, revealing a sight that would send shivers down the spine of anyone who dared to behold it.

Inside the cell, bathed in a feeble light that barely reached the corners of the room, sat a middle-aged man. His haggard appearance was a testament to the torment he had endured. The once immaculate suit he wore was torn and tattered, and his face bore the scars of countless beatings. Most disturbing of all, his fingers were marred by the absence of all ten nails, leaving nothing but raw, bleeding fingertips in their wake.

The middle-aged man's eyes were empty, devoid of any emotion. It was as though the light of his soul had been extinguished, leaving behind a hollow shell of a human being.

The imposing figure who had entered the cell approached the battered man, his footsteps echoing like a death knell in the confined space. He cleared his throat and spoke, his voice carrying an air of authority that brooked no disobedience.

"Professor Ayanokouji," he said, his tone measured and controlled, "I trust you are aware of the gravity of your situation."

The professor, though battered and broken, fixed his gaze on the imposing figure that loomed over him. His eyes, once filled with intelligence and determination, now held a stubborn glint of defiance.

"Go to hell," he spat out, his voice a mere whisper of the strength it had once carried.

The man in the black suit remained unfazed by the professor's retort. His lips curled into a cruel smile, revealing a hint of malevolence that sent a shiver down Atsuomi's spine. He took a step closer, his presence suffocating in the tiny cell.

"Oh, Professor," he said, his voice dripping with condescension, "I assure you, you're already in a place much worse than hell. But you see, there's a way out for you."

Atsuomi scoffed, the bitterness of his situation etched across his face. "I don't believe a word you say," he replied, his eyes narrowing.

The man leaned in closer, his voice a menacing whisper. "You should, Professor. Because what I have to offer is your only ticket to redemption."

They continued to converse, the exchange filled with veiled threats, cryptic promises, and dark undertones. Atsuomi's resilience began to waver as the man painted a bleak picture of his future, a future filled with endless torment and suffering unless he complied.

And then, as the conversation twisted and turned through the depths of despair, the man dropped a bombshell that would rock Atsuomi to his core. "There's been a coup in Japan," he announced casually, as though discussing the weather.

Atsuomi's gaze remained fixed on his tormentor, his face betraying no emotion. The news should have elicited a reaction, but he had learned to conceal his feelings well over the years.

The man in the black suit watched Atsuomi intently, waiting for any sign, any crack in the façade. But the professor remained stoic, a master of his own emotions.