High & Low Oya High (FanFiction)

Chapter 14: Contractors

(Fitting Music:  Before You Go, by Lewis Capaldi)

     Ducking under a flying fist, I struck out with one of my own, jabbing at my opponent's midriff before scooting behind him and making a wild dash into the streets.

     There was two of them, both towering over six foot and their bulky frames were a sight to behold.  Exhilarating, maybe . . . if I was not their target.  However, I was their target and from the few short seconds of looking into their eyes, I knew I did not stand a chance.  I was their game.  This was a hunt.

     I spotted a dark alley and made a sharp turn in direction, slamming into a parked car to help slow me down, before bolting into the shadows.

     I could hear them behind me, rushed, heavy footsteps echoing off the windy streets and splashing through the occasional puddle.  They were laughing, shouting jokes at each other whilst effortlessly chasing me through the city.  A pang of fear blossomed in my chest and I pushed my legs to zip down the streets faster.

     I did not like this, it was . . . scary...  They were scary.

"Dad, what did you do," I cried, cutting down another nameless road, closed shops and locked doors making it seem like the place was abandoned.  There was no one, no one to help.

     Where was I, I looked around desperately whilst struggling to keep a speedy pace.  I did not recognise anything, but I knew I was roughly south of the Oya High District.  Making a split decision, I slid into someone's garden wall and quickly pushed myself off the rough brick, to tear a sharp north.  Ignoring the burning in my palms at the rash action.

     Suddenly I tripped over an uneven curb and a welp was torn from my lips as I flung through the air and tumbled to a painful halt.  My legs and arms throbbed in pain, causing me to moan weakly.  It was as if the world abruptly rolled onto its side, and my mind had not quite caught up what was actually going as if time itself had stopped.

     I did not want to move, it was so unbelievably sore.  Hands aggressively spun me around and mercilessly hauled me to my feet, that refused to hold my weight.

"What do you think," one voice questions while my mind groggily registers being assaulted with strong pine aftershave, "she meet expectations?"

     Another man shrugged just within my peripheral vision, taking a glance at his watch before tosseling his alburn hair, "Lasted longer than I thought . . . but then I didn't think the lass would run."

"Hm," I manage to hear whilst raking in another painstakingly dry gasp, I felt as though I had swallowed burning gasoline, "true, thought she was a fighter."

     A moment of silence followed and I fought to stay conscious as an odd array of dots made up my vision.

"I think that fall hit her hard."

"Not our problem, Doubt didn't specify how they wanted the package."

"You think we should-"

"No."

     The last thing I remember was being hoisted up into the air before everything went black.

~*~

     I need to get out!

     I bolted upright from my nightmare, a sheen of sweat glistening across my now clammy skin.  My body thumped in an excruciating symphony of numbing pain and I immediately regretted the action.  I groaned, cradling my head in my scrapped hands caked with dried blood.

     I do not know how long I stayed that way, but muffled voices drew me from my self-pity to take in my surroundings.  I was in a windowless, room, presumably underground.  No furniture decorated the cold, cement floor and no fancy pictures hung from the old, cracked stone walls.  It was well and truly like a prison, with only one exit being a heavy wooden door with no handle.  I guessed you could only open it from the other side, where the voices were coming from.

     I was nestled in a corner in an unceremonious heap, no doubt the work of the two men who had brought me here.  I shook my head as I tried to place things together, their words coming back to me in bits and pieces like different parts of a puzzle but with no reference picture.

Doubt . . . package...

     I blink as the door swings open, bringing me back to the present.  Two men step in from the shrouded shadows of the hallway and I make out another guarding the door just before it is yanked shut, the loud clap echoing in the small room, radiating all the way down my spine.  It felt like the final nail in my coffin.

     Scanning my blood-shot eyes over to the men, I recognised them as two of the six that had broken into Oya High a few days ago.  So, Doubt then, I reasoned but decided not to speak as I did not trust my mind to properly formulate words in its current poor state.  It was as if you had just jumped off a free-fall slide and landed at the bottom, but your insides were still hanging twenty feet high above your head stubbornly refusing to come down at the same pace as gravity.

"You must be," my gaze shoots over to the first man as he clicks his tongue, struggling to find the right words whilst waving his hands around the room, "Very confused about all this, Miss . . ."

     He looked to his partner for confirmation before finishing, "Yamamoto."

     I visibly flinched at the use of my old family name, it was one I had not heard in a very long time and it struck up memories I thought I had long buried.

"C-care to fill in the gaps?" I croak, not entirely pleased with my raspy voice but not able to do anything to change it.

"I'd hate to spoil all the fun, Miss Yamamoto, but let's just say..." the man's deep voice drifts off into silence while he taps his fingers against his chin, "Mr Yamamoto misses his daughter."