The Heroes are Dumbheads but Fun I Guess

What Takeda Said

For a moment, Okaze could only look at the deadly Walking-- well-- yeah.

This man had been reduced to uhh, a depressed goop.

He couldn't help but clear his throat.

"What?" he gripes. "You are still-- well-- not dead I assure you."

"Um what-- what was that?" he asked, and Okaze would dare say appropriately frazzled and confused.

And the Walking Death just huffed. Before casually replying.

"His name is Shibuya."

Okaze... hadn't expected an answer.

"Does he, is this an often thing?" he asks and then, "are-- you okay?"

Beside him, Okaze finds a palm just shy of his face, not to hurt just placed there by complete chance.

"No, sometimes he's mean," he said. Before realization slowly crept up on his face. "Wai-- WAIT a minute!"

Shoot.

Moment of reprieve, over as it began-- marked his mental inventory. 6:09 give or take. On a Thursday.

And like that, the man's heavy boots walked by him and back to his materials.

"Well be grateful, you have time to put an actual poker face on for when I cut you down and strip you of any and all defenses you," he giggled just a bit while looking at a blade, "think you have."

Discarding the knife on the floor with a clatter.

Besides one small cloth he pulled out another one and then stopped, having a moment of thought.

He then groaned slightly, "great, give me a minute. You move or say a word then I'll just save time and stab you with that over there."

And just like that he sauntered away with a snap of his coat and the door closed.

Okaze simply lay there. In the light that was turning hot and a room made solely of glass panes that reflected bloody red from outside.

Looking around he found some that could possibly be windows, with how decorative spokes made a four pane design. The uppermost circular piece of glass would be unusable, not to mention wildly inaccessible, even without the weather vane or flag pole or whatever erect status symbol was up there.

Arching his spine, with some strain, Okaze held his breath with chipmunk cheeks to get a better look at the chemicals and medical supplies Okaze had brought.

The tray had drawers that much was obvious, but what was also becoming obvious is that this room was full of other contraband. And where would a criminal put his contraband?

That would be an important question for when he got out of this situation.

Okaze only just got back into a passive position when his jailer came back. But surely the way he breathed a bit more heavily, desperately refilling his lungs, gave him away.

"Can't obey at all can you? And I'd've thought that soldier program of yours would have beat it into you," he said, "and who would have complained? Who would have cared?"

And it slapped.

Much as if he actually would have been so crude as to slap him in the face for disobeying.

Okaze bit his tongue, if there was punishment to be had no matter what he said or did, there was no point in rising to such tricks. He would beat him or choke him or something anyway. "More or less" was subjective.

Ooo if only he could throw that in his face.

That he knew what was happening and wouldn't fall for it!

Okaze would be quiet, would be the worst, most no-fun prisoner he'd ever had!

But a glare was good.

And he didn't dare waver--

Even-- even at such sheer cold, calculated anger in unnatural teal eyes.

Again, a slight glow set them alight in unnatural nightly embers.

Don't, don't waver.

Don't--

"Mama," he whimpered out and he could just die!

Okaze felt it rush to his body.

And at the same time he could feel Mr. Villain undo his leather binds.

He tensed, completely unconsciously damn him.

"At this point things would be reduntant and there is a chance you'd choke if restrained more, Mr. Jin," he asked, something snide in such a subtle, almost invisible way, of how he used his chosen name. "Mr. Jin, have you ever had a seizure before? I suppose you could say it's like that."

Takeda snapped and before he could reply the table suddenly developed the ire of jumper cables. The entire surface vibrating and electrified, hitting right at his back, from his nape, right down to his toes.

And it burned his bare skin that he cried out.

The villain let him go on, until he could somewhat breathe again but still, he felt that a cord had latched onto and under his skin and kept him tethered just above what should be-- is-- cold metal.

Fiddling with the dials a bit had Okaze either writhe and seize by the neck or completely relax to the point of leadenness.

"Mr. Jin, are you afraid of the dark?"

By now, Okaze breathed just a bit harder before he could speak. And even then it was just one word. "What?"

"The dark. Would you say you're afraid of the dark?"

"Let's be real, you've read my files. Or at least gotten my age at this point."

"Yes, you're right. Alright," the Villain accepted. Just like that. Then he was--

Okaze winced and then let out a distressed cry when the gag tied to his mouth and around his head.

And though it sent a fresh wave of voltage and resistance to his scalp his hair was roughly grabbed just enough to tie the blindfold on right.

He strained but ultimately couldn't move or reply to what was happening.

What dark?

Light was still filtering from the white fabric, in fact he could just stare and enjoy the color.

And then the void began gathering in his head. Ominous white noise that resembled beach waves.

Something clunky was on his head.

His head was wrenched to its side, he had the vague, prickling feeling of being mocked and then a SHOOM, as the Walking Death had somehow plunged everything in black.

Takeda could never help taking at least a second to enjoy his work.

This time, much less-- involved and deep-- than he liked but ultimately necessary.

Having pulled down his "doctor's mask," he smiled down at little Kidney Bean yelling and spitting and even with his voice, unable to hear himself.

He left the gloves on a counter where he worked with his weaponry, before fingering the dial for the lights.

The room appeared black and if anyone were to look in it'd more look like a dummy was on the table.

Another finger pad let him input a code before locking the Glass Room shut.

It was dinner time after all.