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Crying For Help

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Fuck... This place gave him the creeps. What kind of modern Japanese person lived in a place like this? And in the middle of Chicago! Who could afford that?! Oh right, the fucking Yakuza. It was an old traditional mansion and the layout was really fucking confusing. How many courtyards did you need for one house? He ran his fingers over the wall, trying to figure out what they were made out of.

Seriously? Shoji screens? Didn't this guy know he was a fucking target? He didn't even have security posted.

Honestly, these big wigs really pissed him off.

He didn't care to ask questions about his target. He never did. It didn't matter. He was just in it for the killing. The money wasn't bad either. Turned out taking down the corrupt police chief and a senior Miyashita member came with a pretty hefty paycheck. His employer wanted him to take out the guy in charge of meth trafficking in the Chicago chapter. 

As he made his way toward the center of the property, he started to feel a little suspicious. The lights were on inside but it was deathly quiet. Maybe they were waiting for him, or maybe they just carelessly left the lights on. Luckily that made it easy for him to sneak around without his form being seen through the screens. Either way, he was going to be careful. No sense in waking up the neighbors and calling attention to himself by getting into an unnecessary gun fight. He hated guns anyway. 

Of course he had to carry, since most people didn't share his opinion, but he wished they could all go back to the days of the sword. Not really out of a sense of honor or anything. He just really enjoyed overpowering his opponent with sheer strength and skill. It was exciting. He preferred the experience of cutting into someone over pulling a trigger. People had no sense of fun anymore. 

Honestly that was one of the reasons he loved going after Yakuza targets. A lot of them still used swords. What a blast. 

A very familiar scent hit him while he was creeping through the second courtyard. That thick, heady mineral scent of blood hung in the air. He knew it well. What the fuck was going on here? He looked down and was only a little surprised to see blood creeping out from under the door to his right... A lot of it. Well, this was about to get fucking interesting. Maybe someone beat him to it. Zack wasn't the smartest guy around, but at least he knew enough to use a different door if he didn't want a surprise. He'd been at this for awhile. 

As he was searching for another entrance, he heard something, a soft, tiny voice that he couldn't quite make out. Once again, this place gave him the fucking creeps. Why couldn't it just be a straightforward slash and dash? 

He growled in frustration. 

His curiosity got the best of him. He let his keen sense of hearing guide him through the house as he searched for the source of the noise. He frowned when he realized he'd been walking around in circles between four rooms. The layout of this stupid house didn't make sense! Why would those rooms be connected to each other? They weren't even used for anything but storing junk! In his frustration he kicked the ornate chest of drawers as hard as he could, sending it through the wall. He was pleasantly surprised to find a not so hidden anymore panel behind it. 

“Huh. Well ain't that some shit?” he scoffed. 

What the fuck was that? Some kind of hidden treasure room? Maybe a torture chamber? Either way, sounded interesting. He turned his flash light on as he silently moved through the hidden passageway it revealed. 

The soft unintelligible cries grew louder. 

He slid open the door at the end of the passage and choked in surprise at what he saw there. 

A young girl was bound to a platform in the center of the room, on some kind of altar. She was wearing some weird mask over the top of her face. She quieted as she heard the door open.

“Will you kill me now?” Her voice was unnervingly calm and ethereal, soothing but strangely hollow. 

“Depends.” He examined her from afar. “Anything gonna jump out and get me if I walk into this room?”

“There's no one else.” 

“Right...” He cautiously took a step forward, expecting to trigger some kind of trap or something. Much to his surprise, nothing happened. “So... what the fuck are you doing here?” 

“The first child is always sacrificed as a consort, to bring good fortune and clarity to the Miyashita group,” she recited dully.

“Huh. Well... apparently it works. That why this place is so goddamn fancy? And creepy...”

“Should I liberate you now?”

“Huh?”

“How will you participate in Karmamudra if you are not familiar with the practice?

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Should I instruct you? You sound young. It must be your first time. It is my duty to instruct you.”

“First time doing... What exactly?” he dared to ask, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the situation.

“Are you not with the Miyashita group?”

“Hell no!”

“Oh. Are you going to kill me?” she repeated her first creepy question.

“Well I was going to kill everyone in the house, but it looks like someone might have already beaten me to it.” 

“I see,” she reacted calmly. 

“How long have you been down here?”

“I don't know.”

He took a few steps closer to examine her. She was surprisingly very clean for a captive, clad in a pure white kimono and smelling faintly floral. Weird... Judging by her bright blonde hair, she sure as hell wasn't Japanese.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

She clammed up completely.

“I'm not going to untie you if you don't tell me, creepy girl.”

“I'm the consort...” she reiterated quietly, shamefully. “I am an offering to bring the family blessings.” 

It started to click together for him. Holy shit...

“You mean they tie you up down here and let people fuck you?” he shouted in surprise.

“I'm the consort...” she repeated, giving him no further information.

“Oh.” His stomach lurched. That was so completely fucked up. He wasn't about to play a game of twenty questions with her. Clearly she'd been through some shit. “Okay.” He cut the ropes that held her down and took a step back, not wanting to touch the creepy, probably traumatized little doll girl. 

She slowly sat up and removed the mask from her face, brushing her hair out of her face.

Wow. She was pretty. Really pretty. 

He shook that thought right out of his head. 

She was not pretty. She was a scary little sex slave girl that he found tied up in a basement. There was nothing sexy- PRETTY about that. It was horrible! 

When she tried to stand up, her legs immediately gave out on her and she fell flat on her face. She definitely wasn't going to get very far like that. Must not have used her legs for awhile. 

He shrugged. Not his problem. 

“Well. See ya.” 

“Wait!”

Something in her voice actually had him turning around to look at her.

“Look. I'm not taking you with me and I'm sure as fuck not taking you to the police or the hospital. That's your own problem.”

“Will you kill me then?”

“What?” He stared at her. “Where do you get off saying creepy shit like that?”

“Please kill me.”

“I get paid to kill people. Well... sometimes I do it for fun. But I don't think it would be fun to kill you and no one's giving me money to do it. So, tough break, kid.” 

“I will participate in Karmamudra with you if you agree to kill me afterward.”

“I'm definitely not having sex with you, you creep! Ugh, gross!”

“I'm very clean. I'm always purified afterward,” she assured him.

“Yeah, that's really not the problem!” He made a face. He really didn't want to think about what purified meant.

“Why won't you kill me?”

Good point... Why didn't he want to kill her? Did he feel bad for her? As a victim of child abuse himself, he had a little bit of a soft spot for kids. Just a little bit! He avoided them like the plague for that reason.

“Because you asked with that boring expression on your face.”

“My expression?”

“Yeah. You look dead already. Give me a smile and I'll think about it.”

“A smile,” she parroted quietly, clearly taking a long moment to think about what that meant. 

She managed to force her lips up into a tiny curve but the rest of her face didn't change. Clearly she was not in the habit of smiling. It was kind of cute how bad it was, but mostly it was just really sad. 

“Wow. That was fucking terrible.”

“You said you'd think about it,” she protested softly.

“I did, and I decided I don't want to.” He shrugged. “Tough break, kid.”

“I don't have anywhere else to go.”

“Don't you have a home to go to?” he sighed.

“I live here now...”

“Okay. Where did you live before?” he asked, quickly losing his patience.

“Clarendon Manor.”

“What?” He gave her a look. 

She had to be fucking joking. How did this weird little doll girl come from the most obnoxiously opulent house he'd ever seen? The kind of place that only a super corrupt cop in bed with the Yakuza could afford. 

“So, you're the police chief's daughter, huh? Weird. Didn't know he had a brat. Dunno if you thought that was gonna earn you brownie points or anything. They haven't asked for you back and they sure as hell never offered up a reward. Guess your parents don't give a shit about you.”

“He was my grandfather. I can't offer you money,” she informed him matter-of-factly. “I can't go back there.”

“Well now I'm sure as fuck not taking you with me. I completely cleaned out that house just a few hours ago anyhow.”

“Cleaned it out?” She cocked her head a little in confusion.”

“Killed your pops, took all his money. You know, cleaned it out. Can't have you tagging along and hatching a little revenge plot against me. You're on your own, kid.”

“I don't want revenge. My parents gave me to my grandfather when I was a small child, and he gave me to these people,” she explained. “I don't know anything about what it's like outside.”

“Fuck... So you've been like a prisoner down here your whole life or something?”

“I guess.”

Shit. No wonder she wanted to die. That was a long fucking time to be kept in the dark. Her skin was bright white, as if it had never seen the sun and her eyes were a bright untempered blue. 

“Goddamnit,” he growled. It just so happened he was weak to that story in particular. “Alright, here's the fucking deal. I hate liars, alright? If I find out you're lying to me... I'll bring you back here, chain you up, and leave you to rot. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Who else knows about you?”

“I don't know...” She looked at him dully. “I don't know who those people were. They made me wear the blinding mask.” 

Goddamn it. Fuck. Taking her with him was such a bad fucking idea.

“Well... I'm not carrying you, so you better find your legs soon if you want to come with.”

“I'm fine,” she insisted softly and stepped forward on weak, shaky legs, taking tiny little steps to keep her balance.

He sighed and held out his left hand for her. 

“Here. So you don't slow me down anymore,” he grumbled irritably.

What the fuck was he doing? Just what the fuck was he doing? He really should just kill her. He didn't know how to take care of a little girl! But what was he going to do? Leave her to be found and tormented by those sick fucks? Drop her off at an orphanage? Hell no! 

He'd... give her the necessary tools to take care of herself and send her on her way. That's what the old man did for him, right? Taught him how to survive and then got himself killed. He didn't intend on copying the second part though.