damned_institute | Night 54: Waiting Room/Lobby 1

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Night 54: Waiting Room/Lobby 1

[from here]

As he walked into the waiting room, Niikura nearly closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable sound of several guns or so cocking, or maniacal laughter, or the door suddenly closing behind him and locking him in. None of that happened, but, he told himself (There had been no tinge of disappointment. None.), the danger had hardly passed.

He took several, slow, measured steps into the room and then spun around quickly on his heel, fixing Mike with a piercing stare.

"Alright." He suddenly glanced to the side, flicking his flashlight toward the door on his left. When someone failed to barge in after several seconds, he whipped his head and the flashlight back and resumed staring at Mike. "What was that all about just now, Mike-san?" Niikura's voice had lost its usual lightheartedness; now, just as it had only seconds ago, it sounded flat and almost...accusatory.

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Mike noticed the shift in Niikura. So there really was something more to the kid after all. He wondered if Niikura knew how to fight. Not that he was going to ask, what with being shot full of daggers and everything just now. Niikura was on high alert, almost acting paranoid. Mike would prefer not to set him off. It was why he decided to only shut the door partially behind them and step away from it.

"When you touched me, I saw something," Mike explained. "Or felt it. Felt like I had two arms tied down to a chair, was missing fingers, and had the shit beaten out of me."

If anything, Mike could never be accused of beating around the bush. They didn't have time for it, anyways. Not with everything that was going on.

"Suppose it doesn't ring a bell, does it?" Mike cocked an eyebrow. " 'cause it sure as shell didn't to me."

The information seemed to filter in way too slowly. It was almost as if his brain was trying to reject it, because as experienced as Niikura was with death and pain, that entire incident - clinging agonizingly onto consciousness, forcing a grin to stay on his face even as Kitagami and his men beat the shit out of him - had forced him, by Akumetsu's standards, to the brink of despair.

And now Mike had seen it - exposed that one moment of all-encompassing suffering and helplessness. Normally, he wouldn't be worried, would've laughed it off and related the whole sordid story with a smile on his face. But this time, the idea of someone knowing something so personal about him without his explicit permission only increased his anger, because he knew that only the powers that were in the institute could magic that up.

Which meant that Mike really was working for them.

The closet rod snapped as Niikura tightened his grip, the splinters digging into his palm bringing an almost relieving pain. "Pokin' around in people's heads, huh?" he growled, taking a step forward. "And who gifted ya with that kinda power? Landel? Aguilar?"

This was going south fast. Niikura went from a possible friend to regarding him with paranoia. Mike noticed how he snapped the closet rod. Definitely not a normal teenager.

Especially since that flash of memory seemed to be his. Who'd torture a normal kid like that? Although that begged to ask how Niikura managed to get all his fingers and shit back. Mike could clearly remember that some were missing. He had experience with limb loss already, after all.

The former turtle took a step back, putting his hand up to show that he was unarmed. "Didn't poke on purpose. If you're forgettin', we're test subjects now. Whatever the shell just happened coulda been because of that." Then, he paused for a moment, and looked confused. "... wait. You think I'm with them?"

Niikura threw aside the ruined closet rod without a second glance. "Somethin' like that, maybe," he said casually, bringing his ruined hand up and examining it with some interest. "Didn't answer my question, by the way."

He twiddled his fingers experimentally and then made a fist, laughing. "Don't get too scared now, Mike-san; I'm not gonna kill ya. I'm just lookin' for the truth." Killing Mike wouldn't serve any purpose, mostly because he wasn't sure if he'd come back as he normally did. And Niikura knew that no matter what, he had to stay alive, at least until he got back into Japan - his Japan.

"Because I don't know the damn answer," Mike replied with slight exasperation.

And so they were going to fight because Niikura suddenly grew a set of paranoid balls. Bit paranoid balls. Maybe he was even trippin'. Mike wasn't used to his body, putting him at a disadvantage. But Niikura was far younger than him, which meant he was less experienced. Even a trained kid couldn't replace almost fifty years of martial arts training and experience.

"Knock it off with the paranoid shit. You're edging in on my turf."

"Tch!" Niikura gnashed his teeth in frustration. If only he had his mask, or something more significant than a flashlight. He didn't like threatening people he wasn't intending to kill, but he needed to know about who he'd be up against (Landel was out; he was back to square one.), and Mike just wasn't coughing up the info he needed.

The teen took a step forward. "The hell are you talkin' about? Paranoid? Call it 'cautious', will ya?" He sighed. "Look, all ya gotta do is tell me. I don't like fightin' for information in such a distasteful way, but I'll do it if I have to."

Niikura reversed his grip on his flashlight, pointing the bulb behind him. "'Sides, protectin' evil...I definitely can't overlook that."

Great, so he wanted to fight, then. Or beat him up for information. Mike didn't pull out his own flashlight. Not yet.

"Paranoid," Mike replied, watching him cautiously. "Paranoid and stupid. I'm older than you, kid. And I don't wanna fight."

He didn't. Niikura had been a good source of information, interesting to hang out with. Had Mike been from a different life, maybe he would have even called the teenager fun. But he wasn't, so it really didn't matter.

"Whatever this is, I ain't had it before tonight," Mike continued, frowning a bit more than usual; then, he blinked. "... Kind to think of it. Didn't they just say they did something to the food?"

Shell, how could anything give him mutant powers? Oh, wait. He was already a mutant. But now he was human. Latent abilities? What kind of crappy superpower was that? Mind reading, activated by touch.

Lame. Also, not very useful to keep him from getting his brain smashed in. Who knew how well this kid could fight.

When Mike mentioned his seniority, Niikura made a face. "Sheesh, didn't think ya would be so desperate as to pull that card. I don't give a damn about that kinda stuff." Age? Really? When it came to matters of experience, no one could beat him. Over a hundred Shous' worth of memories had been poured into him; that was way more than anything most people would have.

Of course, he didn't say so regularly, so maybe he could cut some slack. Just this once. (If it had been Gant he'd been talking to, no such privilege.)

With a sigh, Niikura began walking forward steadily until there wasn't more than a meter or so between him and Mike. The flashlight still dangled at his side. "...ya know," he said suddenly, "before I beat ya half to death or vice versa - I don't think that's gonna happen, but ya know, just to be fair - I gotta know..." His usual, smug smile was beginning to creep back onto his face.

"Didja like it? That little glimpse of my awesome, epic life?"

Obviously, Mike didn't know that. How could he? Niikura was mostly a mystery to him. They were mostly mysteries to each other. The only thing each knew about the other is that the other knew how to fight.

It didn't take a fight to know that. Mike was sizing Niikura up, and Niikura was doing the same in his own way. This would not end pretty. Obviously, the whole "normal teenager" thing had been a complete front.

As for the question, Mike actually stared at him--was the kid fucking kidding? "You were bein' tortured. What part of that is 'awesome'?"

Of course it hadn't been awesome; it had been absolutely hellish as far as Niikura was concerned. When he was feeling cornered, though, he just...liked playing mind games. Something about having the element of unpredictability on his side made him feel more at ease.

"Man, people just don't understand drama anymore," Niikura said with a despairing shake of the head. "What could be more awesome than a man sacrificin' himself for all that he holds dear, and takin' his secrets to the grave? Ya know, if you're gonna poke around in someone's head - especially mine - ya should make sure you're gonna appreciate what you find."

In one step, Niikura had closed the distance between them, but it wasn't the flashlight that he had upraised, not this time.

"Maybe ya just need to see the bigger picture!" With those words, he brought his left hand down, seeking to plaster it flatly onto Mike's forehead. He didn't have anything to hide; bring it on, Aguilar, Landel, one-armed-agent-of-the-aforementioned, whatever!

Unpredictability was something that Mike used to excel at, in terms of chitchat. Still did, in a way. But that was from many years of hardening more than spontaneity.

He knew an attack was coming, so he wasn't completely taken aback by the suddenness of the strike. Niikura had been pretty much telegraphing his intent all along. But the kid was fast.

Mike just barely dodged the attempt to slap his forehead. Unconventional, but skilled. The worst kind of enemy.

No more time for words. Just action and reaction. Mike stumbled to the side, not quite catching his balance from the sudden dodge in this new body. He barely managed to get off a retaliatory kick.

Edited 2011-03-12 05:04 (UTC)

"Man..." Niikura had expected to at least land a glancing blow, but Mike had proven to be more slippery than he thought. Pretty good for a short guy missing an arm. It looked like he had some training of his own.

He'd been planning to follow up with the flashlight regardless of whether he'd hit Mike or not, but the kick called for a shift in approach. Pivoting, Niikura spun around Mike's leg, hooking it underneath his arm, and then twisted to let the man continue forward, trying to send him sprawling onto the floor.

[ooc: should we just end it after this round, then?]

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Night 54: Waiting Room/Lobby 1

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/SO LATE DDD:

/FOREVER REPLIES LATE AS WELL

...this backthread will last forever, won't it?

PROBABLY. S-Should we even start with breakfast yet? XD

FFF soon D:

D8 Yeah.

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