Mastermind | Chuuya Nakahara.

TWO.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
CHAPTER TWO:
You're wretched.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

               Aki dreamt of home. And not the picket-white fence and red-bricked home. No. She dreamt of the room that had served as her prison for twelve years. A room with no shred of personality: the walls white, the sink white, the furniture white. She dreamt of the solitude she had lived in and how over time, the white floors had become stained with blood—a mixture of her own and those she killed. When she would return after a job, she would strip of her clothes and head straight for the shower, but even with the blood washing down the drain, it still managed to find its way to the floor. It was a reminder—that she was a killer, and always would be.

                  Stirring from her sleep, she tried to move but found that she couldn't. She wanted to stretch her limbs, crack her bones back into their correct places but she couldn't. Opening her eyes, light flooded in—but not sunlight, artificial light. It was coming from the lightbulb hanging directly above her head, swinging back and forth from the air coming from the draft-y brick walls. She swallowed hard, attempting to clear her throat as she took in her surroundings through hazy eyes.

                   She was in a small room with a wooden chair sitting opposite her, but it was unoccupied. The lightbulb above her was flickering on and off, moths smacking themselves into it over-and-over again.

                 Same, Aki thought.

                 The walls were red brick—or were they? Aki was sure she could see some white under them. Was it paint or blood that had stained the walls that colour? Her hands and feet were bound by rope, keeping her strapped down to the legs and arm rests of the chair. She moved her feet a little, feeling the cold from the concrete floor beneath her bare feet. She was freezing. Absolutely, fucking, freezing.

                   Rolling her head on her shoulders, her neck cracked in three different places, jet-black hair falling to frame her face. She inhaled sharply and impatiently, "Yo, anyone out there? I'm bored and freezing my ass off!" She called out towards the big-steel door in front of her. There was a small rectangular window made for looking in. When she got no reply, she sighed hard. "Come on, if you're gonna torture me, get it over with already!" She held the impatience of a child, whining as if she wanted her favourite sweet. It was clear she didn't take the possibility of being tortured very seriously.

                    "You're not going to be tortured." A voice said from behind her.

                    It came as a surprise, since she hadn't sensed the person in the room, but it didn't startle her. The moment she heard the voice, she recognised it as the Gravity Manipulators and mentally cursed herself for not noticing his presence sooner. Before, in the alley, it had been overpowering, but she hadn't even felt it that time. She blamed the drugs she could still feel in her system, making her mind fuzzy. Her ability always allowed her to feel the presence of those around her.

                     Aki found a grin making its way to her lips, "No?" She quipped. "Shame. I was really looking forward to it." She said with a pleasant smile on her lips, as if she was talking about something as mundane as a cup of coffee—not the idea of torture. Part of her wondered what the Port Mafia had up their sleeves when it came to torture. Though, she couldn't imagine it being worse than the Double A's forms of torture. They were an elite breed when it came to finding ways to break someone's mind, body and soul.