Outbound

Enshrouded Tabulation, Part 2

With a flicker of resolve in his eyes, Naoya moves toward the next door. He grips the handle and pushes it open, revealing a small kitchen. There's a sink with piles of dirty dishes, an overflowing trash can, and a lingering smell of rotting food. "Okay this is genuinely depressing how people can live like this." Naoya says to Ryu and Daisuke. Ryu and Daisuke wrinkle their noses in disgust, their expressions a mixture of disbelief and revulsion. "I've seen pigs live in cleaner conditions," Ryu mutters, shaking his head. "Comparing these creatures to pigs sounds like an insult to the pigs." Daisuke nods in agreement, a dark edge to his tone. "Agreed. Pigs at least have a sense of cleanliness. These people, on the other hand..." His voice trails off, his disgust evident. "You know the drill, Daisuke. Check this room." Daisuke nods and steps into the kitchen, his lips curled in disgust. His footsteps echo softly through the room as he inspects it thoroughly. His eyes dart from dirty surface to dirty surface, his senses on high alert. "Is it just me or that floor creak was kinda off?" Naoya asks. Ryu's observant gaze flicks to the floor, a frown deepening on his brow. "You're right, that creak sounded different," he mutters, his fingers instinctively reaching towards his pocket. Naoya's eyes sharpen at the realization, a grim understanding dawning on his face. "Let's be careful. Someone might be hiding under the floorboards," he whispers urgently. "Check it out, Ryu." 

Without a moment's hesitation, Ryu nods and begins his search. He steps lightly, avoiding the creaky spots as he moves across the room. His eyes flicker from corner to corner, searching for any sign of tampering with the floorboards. His movements are fluid, like a predator stalking prey. "Oh how stupid you fuckers are." Naoya notices that the grandfather clock located inside the flat not too far from kitchen. He breaks it with a swift punch. Shattering the clock's works and silencing its rhythmic ticking. "Move the clock from there and see the magic, Ryu." Ryu nods at Naoya's instructions, his focus shifting to the broken clock. He moves quickly, carefully prying it away from the wall to reveal a hidden trapdoor. The crevice is barely visible, hidden by the shadows and the heavy clock, but now open and accessible. With the trapdoor now exposed, Naoya's eyes gleam with determination. "No point in stealth now," he mutters. "Let's find whoever's hiding down there." Naoya reaches the trapdoor first and carefully pries it open. The hinges creak slightly as it opens, revealing a dark, damp space below. It leads to a tight, dimly lit corridor under the house. "What in the Prison Break is this?" Daisuke asks with confusion. "Looks like these guys have been busy." Naoya remarks dryly, his tone dripping with disdain. "They must have dug this tunnel as an escape route or something. Clever, but not clever enough." "I am honestly not sure if I am disappointed or impressed." Ryu admits.

Despite the dire situation, a hint of a sardonic smile tugs at the corner of Naoya's lips. "Impressed, you say?" he muses, his voice low and amused. "If this is impressive, I wonder what you'd call professional work." "We'll discuss the finer points of craftsmanship another time," Naoya says with a wry smile. "Now, let's focus on the matter at hand." He gestures towards the dank corridor. "Who's going first? Daisuke?" Ryu chuckles and responds. "You are bold to assume Daisuke's burly ass could fit there." Naoya laughs, his chuckle echoing softly in the cramped space. "Fair point," he says, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Looks like I'll have to squeeze through then." Naoya crouches down and begins to maneuver himself through the narrow entrance. His tall frame seems to protest as he contorts his body to fit. A few grunts of effort escape him as he squeezes through, until finally, he's on the other side, a triumphant smile on his face. "Piece of cake," he remarks. "You two don't need to come after me. If you guys hear a gunshot, just know that I am fighting." Ryu and Daisuke exchange a glance, their expressions hard and resolute. Ryu nods in agreement. "We'll be right behind you," he says, his voice clear and firm. "You won't be doing this alone." "I said no. Check the source of floor creaks while I deal with here." Ryu opens his mouth to argue, but Naoya cuts him off with a firm glance. "He's right," he says, recognizing the need for efficiency. "Keep an eye on the upper levels. We'll handle this." Ryu hesitates for a moment, but then nods, reluctantly agreeing.

With that, Naoya turns his attention to the tunnel ahead, plunging into the darkness. His footsteps echo softly on the cold, damp floor, each step sending a shiver down his spine. The air is heavy with musty undertones, a testament to the neglected state of this underground space. Walking further into the tunnel, Naoya's senses sharpen with each step. The air grows even danker, and the light becomes increasingly sparse. However, the silence within the tunnel doesn't last long. Soon, the sound of voices can be heard up ahead, though they are muffled and indistinct. As the voices grow louder, Naoya pauses, his body tensing up. The tunnel curves slightly, leading him to a spot where the voices become clearer. They're coming from a room up ahead, likely the end of the tunnel. Naoya approaches the end of the tunnel with a quiet but confident gait. The voices grow louder as he nears the room, now distinguishable as two distinct male voices arguing with each other vehemently. Naoya quietly peeks into the room, taking in the scene unfolding before him. He sees two men, visibly agitated and seemingly oblivious to his presence. One of them holds a pistol, waving it haphazardly as he argues, while the other is frantically gathering documents and maps. Naoya knocks on the door and waits for them to answer. The sudden knock startles the men, causing them to turn towards the doorway with a mix of fear and surprise. Their argument ceases momentarily as they look at the door, unsure of who has just arrived.

 Naoya stands at the threshold, his figure framed by the dim corridor behind him. His gaze is cold and piercing, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Room service," he drawls, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Although it seems I interrupted your little lover's spat here." His words are laced with a defiant confidence, challenging the men to make a move.