Never Alone (Jotakak)

Agents (1/2)

Fluorescent light filtered on the hall, the sharp light casting radiance into the offices spaced at equal intervals to either side.

The man in front of me was quiet, his stand a nervous bundle of energy as it hovered around it's equally nervous stand user.

I was silent as I watched it, mesmerized by the shimmer of incandescent wings as it fluttered, picking up pieces of paper as his user dropped them.

He led me through the building, my hands tucked deep into my pockets. A door drifted open underneath his touch, admitting me into a wide room.

A handful of people lounged behind computers, headsets on as they relayed information to the man standing in the center. He glanced up as I entered, and a silence fell upon the room as they saw me.

"Mr. Kujo," the man in the center of the room said, turning to face me. He had a kind face, wrinkles creased around his eyes and mouth. They deepened as he continued. "Thank you for coming."

The man behind me let the door shut with a jerk, the latch clicking lightly.

"I hate to ask something more of you so soon after last time, but this matter is... better suited for you."

He nodded towards a man behind a computer. A few clicks later, and a screen ahead displayed a figure I was familiar with. It was the same images Joseph had gathered when trying to capture a photo of his son.

My gaze slid to the man.

"Why bring me here?"

The people lining the room seemed to jump a little at the sound of my voice, though the man was undisturbed.

He made a small clicking noise.

"This man is an unknown. We hate to send you into the dark alone."

He glanced at the same man, who set upon the keyboard again with furious speed.

"Normally, we hate to put all our eggs in one basket, but when we ran you through our systems, our best agent came up as your match."

A file flipped onto the screen as the man continued.

"His stand is proficient at long-range battle."

I cut him off before he could continue, meeting his gaze from beneath the brim of my cap.

"Where is he now?"

....

Dust blew through the doorway as it opened with a whirr. Two men dressed in identical black uniforms dragged a third between them, limp on the floor. A long coat covered the man's body, the dark olive stained with blood. Grains of sand swirled through the dry, hot air before sticking to the sweat and crusted blood on that coat. The sound of faint groans echoed down the hallway, originating from the prisoner.

The two men shuffled their grip on his biceps as he rose his head, heavy gaze slipping around the walls without registering anything. Blood stained his face, a dark bruise beginning to spread across one cheek. His hair was a mess, slick with sweat and oil.
He caught sight of his reflection in the steel walls, staring at himself amid a drug-induced daze.

The hall amplified the crisp footsteps, accompanied by the telltale rustling of someone being dragged.

Another soft moan as a door at the very end slid open.

The prisoner was jostled as he was thrown into a chair, chin slumped against his chest. A few dozen guards stood at attention, lining the edges of the room with intimidating silence. The prisoner made no signs of moving as the two men tied him up, chaining his wrists and ankles before wrapping rope around his chest.