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Adam stood looking over his kingdom, thoughts fragmented and emotions festering. He had put in place a little party of sorts, non-typical of S, a soft celebration ushering in a new age of skaters, new minds to teach, new minds to learn, and new bodies to break. It was a community promotion to push people further, to assist and to adapt. He'd posted dozens of death-defying compilation videos from a playlist for people to sift through, and had developed a different area of the mine for bigger, more dangerous tricks. New ramps, new bowls, waterfalls, pipes and rails. Sudden cliffs.
Baby steps, he'd told himself.
Miya had been the base charcoal to this fire, a little prodigy he had found and was pruning up nice and neat. A smidge of a revelation through hopeful youth. Now, seeing so many faces with varying skill levels did something to him that he couldn't describe. How much potential was writhing in the crowd below him, jumping to the beats of the obscenely loud music and dizzying lights at such an ungodly hour?
He'd removed himself from the pulse of the crowds some time earlier, dully reminding himself that most, if not all of them, would ultimately amount to nothing. He'd climbed up to his current perch, several stories up a decrepit building that had originally been used as a comms tower. He sat on the old broadcasting desks, leaning against the windows, and stared down at a few people crossing a new, but rather short, finish line area, beef after beef after beef.
Nothing of note, but he saw many people asking and telling how to do certain tricks, where proper foot placement and timing should be. Sharing videos, trying the tricks they had seen. Making friends. He figured, somewhere, at some point, it could lead to something more, something worth cultivating, something just for him.
That was the point of all of this to begin with.
His mind began to wander, muddling, and he pulled at his face, closing his eyes, drowning the noise, thinking of pink and green, then forcing himself to think of nothing. He stayed like this for a long time, breathing deeply, drifting into himself. Coiled, virulent. It was here, in the dark and odd state of half meditative sleep that he heard screaming.
It was closer than the people shouting from the ground, and clearer than the singing from the stereo's loud speakers. He figured someone had broken their way in to the comm tower after he had locked it, and was climbing the stairwell. Probably someone looking to snoop around for fun, which wasn't uncommon.
The screaming continued, getting closer, followed by harsh words, and Adam realized that he recognized the voice. He stood up to go investigate for himself, his board at his side.
While Adam himself was flirtatious and pushed buttons with Miya, he never truly meant anything by it. Not enough to act on or do anything with, anyways. Not that he even wanted to. The boy was simply fun to tease, he'd been so keen on learning things he shouldn't, but Adam wasn't one to snuff curiosity. Having unrestricted internet access as a 13 year old boy had a tendency to create weird, horndogged monsters with twisted humor and dark phases. Miya hadn't quite reached that point yet, still riding on the adorable innocence factor, but he knew plenty enough for Adam's teasing to stick.
But this?
Adam highly doubted, even denied, that Miya was on the ground willingly, his clothes fully removed from him. His pale body was striking against the metal floor, a little pile of white in a spanse of dark, and Adam thought of the old western paintings in his family home depicting plump women and small-dicked men.
A large man was on top of Miya, straddling him while he attempted to unbuckle his belt. Miya struggled against him, clawing wildly at him, his legs kicking and bucking in an attempt to get the man off of him. He was cussing and yelling at him, though his words were too quick and shrill to be understood. He was hit across the side of his head for his efforts. It was loud enough for Adam to hear, and he knew Miya was too small to fight back, even with his vicious clawing and biting.
Adam began descending the landing hastily, the taps hidden on the back of his heels clicking loudly against the steel stairway, but he could barely hear them himself. He was shocked by what he was seeing, but not entirely surprised. Miya was cute, Adam would openly tell anyone this, and he could certainly attract the wrong kind of person easily. Fans, jealous haters, stalkers, pedophiles. S was filled with unsavory people, and was a common place for drug deals, side hustles and hookups, especially in the less-trafficked areas. He'd seen his fair share of romps on the security cameras. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened, where some kid, even Miya, in this case, was cornered and absconded with.
Life wasn't perfect.
Adam's nostrils flared when the man's already engorged dick was released from his pants and plopped on Miya's belly. Miya went still, shaking violently, before he tried jerking away. He was flipped bodily over, his chest scraping the floor as he struggled for purchase, grabbing at loose bolts and wood splinters and dust - grabbing at nothing.
A flash of memories hit Adam and sent him reeling - his father above him, hips locked with his own, the pain deep behind his groin as he was told what a good boy he was, so warm and tight. He'd cried the first few times, but he was a good boy, he'd behave, he'd take it. He was being loved. His father had eventually stopped touching him like this when he was nearly 16, before the new nightmares of America, and at the time, he wasn't sure if he felt either relief or shame over it. Perhaps a mixture of the two, but now all he felt was rage.
While it took him a very long time to tentatively come to terms with the fact that it wasn't the kind of love he ever needed from his own father, he knew now, viscerally, that his little Miya didn't deserve this. Certainly not here, in a dingy stairwell, and not with a complete stranger, not since Miya was so keen on shrieking for help against it and Adam could actually do something about it.
Miya's voice was cracking and breaking, but was ultimately being drowned out by the loud music outside and by the shouts of the crowd.
Adam's grip on his skateboard was heavy. His ears were ringing, and he saw red, red like the leather seats in his town car, like his outfit, like roses, like love and blood. When his vision cleared, there was a corpse at his feet.
---
"Tadashi. I need you to come play fetch, there's been a thrilling little incident in building 2-4-A, fourth flight up."
Miya barely heard Adam's voice, his body had gone cold and numb. He felt himself shaking, felt the tears falling down his cheeks. He couldn't move, could only stare at the body of the man who had just been on top of him, just a few feet away, perfectly still.
Adam's board was embedded in his skull.
Miya didn't know what to think. He didn't know what to do. This was unbelievable, how had any of this even happened, and so fast? He'd been grabbed from the edge of the crowd outside at ground level, and tossed around a bit before being drug up several flights of stairs, kicking and screaming. He'd dropped his board at some point, and desperately hoped no one would steal it.
He thought he was being taken away as a joke at first, or kidnapped for some stupid revenge tournament-related reason. Was he going to be threatened off the building? Would this man push him over a railing and kill him? He was bodyslammed to the ground and manhandled, his clothes being pulled from him. He'd tried grabbing and pinching at his clothes to keep them on, but it didn't do him any good, and his fingers hurt from the strain. When his clothes were forcibly ripped from him in, he panicked.
What was this? Some nasty nudie-boy picture pervert? Blackmail? Was he going to be marched back downstairs, bare-butt naked and humiliated? Why go through all the trouble of bringing him several flights up?
For all the yelling and fighting he did, he was too small. The man was at least twice his size, with a strength he couldn't compete with, and it left him feeling weak and useless. He was too far away from the crowd for anyone to hear. He only hoped someone would figure out he was missing and somehow come find him soon, very soon.
Then the man was undoing his buckle, his dick pulled out, and a cog in Miya's mind clicked into place.
The man's cock on his belly was huge, huge by his standards from exploring oddball porn when his curiosity got the best of him, and there was no way he wanted it anywhere near him. It was hot on his skin, and it scared him.
The man hit him hard across his temple, and he was acutely dazed from the blow. While he wasn't a stranger to pain, the rough treatment from another human being sent his stomach roiling, and the thought of what the man was planning to do to him suddenly made him burst into tears.
He didn't want this. He wasn't ready for this, he barely understood the concept of it, he didn't want anything to do with his stranger, this man, this monster. He needed to get away, to grab at anything to hit the man with, but there was nothing. He felt the man's sweaty, warm hands grab at his backside, spreading him. How was this happening? His throat felt raw from his screaming. Now, all he heard was the thump of the music outside, loud muffed voices from the crowd, and suddenly, a loud crack.
Miya turned over and watched, horrified, as Adam beat the man with his skateboard, over, and over, and over, and over, and overandoverandover ---
"Miya. Miya, sweetie, look at me. Stay with me. You need to breathe, honey."
Miya looked up, as if just noticing someone actually being there with him. Adam was hovering over him, his hands were shaking, and the front of his outfit was covered viscera, skull fragments - brain matter. Red against red, life against death.
He reached out to Miya, but the boy flinched away, whimpering, his voice barely a whisper, "Don't."
Adam's lips twitched into a frown, "I won't hurt you, darling. But you need to put your big boy pants back on, hm? Can't have you trolloping around in your birthday suit, it's best to leave something to the imagination."
Adam's voice was like an anchor, and Miya came back into himself and dove for his clothes like a starving animal, pulling them back over himself in a flourish. He realized some of his hoodie was covered in blood, pieces ripped, and his lip quivered. When he could catch his breath and stand fully, he dared a glance at the man - the beaten pulp.
Movies, games and pictures on the internet were different. They could be as visually gruesome as possible, but it just didn't compare. This had a smell, a very strange, sickly-sweet scent to it, and it was right in front of him, it was real. Just moments ago, that man had been hot and heavy on top of him, and now he was - this.
Adam's board was leaning terribly, one of the horns stuck into the side of the man's mangled and bashed head. Blood was pooling, more blood than Miya had ever seen before in his entire life, horror films be damned. The man didn't have a face anymore.
He looked away, at the floor, not daring to look at Adam, too afraid, too shocked, and his voice came out incredibly small and watery, "Is he dead?"
"God, I hope so. I don't think there's a single plastic surgeon in the world that could fix that mess."
Miya couldn't help the disbelief, the terror, the nausea - before he was dry heaving over himself. He gagged, could feel his body trembling, felt the deepset cold in his limbs, the pulsing pain in his head from where the man had hit him, the ache of anxiety and fear in his gut. Typically when he was sick like this, there was a comforting hand at his back, but Adam kept carefully away from him. He was sweating, but could only feel the damp chill of the night air, and he sniffled miserably to himself.
No one had been there to notice him being taken away, to help him before it got to this point. Maybe nobody cared. He didn't know anyone here at S, he didn't have any friends. He hadn't been able to do anything for himself, either. He felt like such a loser.
He needed to get better. Focus on getting stronger, and quicker, smarter. At this point he felt weak, and stupid, scared like some little kid. He needed to be his own hero, because he couldn't rely on anyone, and he just discovered that Adam was an absolute wild card.
Suddenly, he saw movement from the corner of his eye - someone was coming up the stairs. Startled, he backed away, shuffling into a corner, smearing blood spatters on the wall.
Was it one of the guy's friends, come to have a turn at him? Maybe it was someone who had seen or heard, and had come to find him. Some random person from S, or one of the red hat workers. Would the police be called, would Adam be arrested -
No, no it was Adam's - driver? Secretary?
---
Nobody said a word as Tadashi's gaze roved over the scene. This was bad. Removing a body during a crowded event would be tricky, if not impossible, especially since he didn't have any bodybags on hand. That was his own oversight, he'd admit.
He'd also admit that he never foresaw someone being outright murdered by his master outside of skating against him.
He immediately tapped into the coms, effectively giving the order to keep the entry to the building blocked until further notice. It was a restricted area anyways, due to safety reasons. Not like anyone at S cared, given the copious amount of graffiti and cigarette butts littering the stairways and walls and continuously broken locks.
It was worse that Miya was here - blood on his clothes, on his face, disheveled, eyes rimmed red, breath shuddering - he was young, impressionable, especially to something like this. He could talk. Would he? Perhaps not. Miya wasn't like a lot of kids, and the sponsorship Adam provided was important to him.
Adam's mask had been removed, and he was smoking heavily, pulling long drags, rapidly tapping his foot. Nervous. Fretting. Blood on expensive silk and embroidery that would need at least an entire bottle of peroxide to remove.
Tadashi needed to be careful, "Sir, what happened?"
Miya looked away from him, eyes wide and red as he pulled at the hem of his hoodie, fidgeting with small, shaking fingers. Adam groaned some feet away from him, dramatically shaking his cigarette at the corpse, "This bastard wanted to see my Full Swing Kiss up close and personal, so I let him have it," his words were punctuated and clear, but Tadashi could hear the quiver to them, and the lower octave of his tone.
"Of course."
Tadashi eyed the board, imaginging it, briefly, in a police station, labeled as a murder weapon. It was nearly comical, a custom longboard with love motifs and mounted cowhorn. He imagined Shindo Ainosuke being connected to it, being arrested, being tried -
There were plenty of areas in S where one could dispose of a body. He could just feign a fall from a great height such as this building, cover up the blunt force trauma in the skull with something worse, something more full-bodied. Did the man have friends here? Family that knew about S, about where he was this night? His death could lead to an investigation, could lead to the discovery of S, to the discovery of who owned the mine, to the discovery of Shindo Ainosuke being connected to it, so that was out.
This had to be done properly. Decapitate him, bash out his teeth, cut off his hands, filet his skin of any tattoos. Spread the pieces. The quarry, a mine, the runoff lake. Scatter teeth into the piles of gravel. Lime in one of the stored port-o-potties, the leftover bones buried deep using one of the back-hoes. There were options. He'd utilize several. Tadashi ran through the supplies he'd need through his mind, everything bought with cash from several different stores, and he'd change his outfit each time -
Again, he looked to Miya. The boy was shaking, refusing to look at anyone or anything other than the floor, blinking heavily. Tadashi was missing pieces, but wasn't sure if he should ask. He was quiet, a little too long.
"I need you to take little Miya out of here. This wasn't the kind of show he bargained for, I'm afraid," Adam pulled out another cigarette, "It was a bit too...adult orientated."
Tadashi looked to Adam, thoughts still running, and a big piece of the puzzle clicked into place, "Where would you like me to take him, sir? Do I need to...take care of him?"
Heaven forbid he have to kill the child.
But he'd do it.
Adam huffed incrediously at him, "Holy hell - down, dog, heel. Just take him home! If I'd known you were feeling like that, I'd have let you have a few swings at this prick," he flicked his wrist at the corpse, "But don't forget to come back and clean up this mess when the party dies down, I'm sure you'll figure out all of the details. And bring me back a nice wine, I feel like getting a little bit shitfaced in the car later," he fiddled with his lighter, and Tadashi couldn't help but see how badly his hands were shaking.
"Oh, God, I need some air," Adam looked to Miya, eyes wild, "You have so much left to give, baby. Brimming with future prospects, and all that. Don't let this bump in the road leave you empty just yet," he turned to walk away, back up the stairs leading to the comm room, "Adieu, kitten, do be more careful next time, hm? Tomcats have a habit of taking a bite if they're hungry enough, but I'm sure you just learned all about that," his broad back was hunched slightly, his gait uneven and he had to grab the railing to keep himself steady.
Miya was at Tadashi's side in a panicked flash, but not close enough to touch him. Tadashi stared down at Miya, his pale face flecked with blood, running with quiet tears. Eyes still wide, frightened, his lip quivering -
Over the years, Tadashi had watched Ainosuke deteriorate under the senior master's...affections, and while nothing could be done at the time, it was still something neither one of them could ever talk about.
Seeing what had been transpiring in the stairwell of the comm tower must have been distressing, Adam's subtle physical reactions a given. Tadashi hadn't seen him so disquieted in a long time. He highly doubted murdering a man would bother him as much as this.
He briefly wondered how much had happened to Miya. Would he need a trip to a privately paid doctor, given medications to prevent disease, or deal with any tearing or possible perforations? An in-house therapist later? Tadashi knew he couldn't do anything about what had already happened, and it wasn't his place to ask here, at least not yet. He'd talk to Miya in the car, delicately, and decide if he should ask his master for further cross-recommendations.
Too much was on the line and weak minds combined with loose tongues ruined nations.
Tadashi beckoned for Miya to begin descending the stairs, before Adam called out again, "Chinen."
Miya froze. It was one of the only times Adam had ever used that name outside of a formal setting, and for some reason, it sent a chill up his spine. Miya dared to look up, to look back at the God of S, the Matador of Love, his mentor and sponsor, at the terrifying man that had just killed for him in cold blood with a skateboard. He'd seen Adam in an expensive suit in his school, supporting him at his tournaments, had seen him on TV, on posters. His face was familiar in many regards, but the expression Adam currently had horrified him. They stared at each other, stock still, before Adam spoke again, "Kiss but don't tell, sweetie."
Miya immediately understood it as a play on Adam's Full Swing Kiss, and about the events that had transpired, and his heart sank into his gut. As if he'd tell anyone any of this, ever. Adam had kept it from progressing any further, but the horror of it all was still there, the smell, the sight, the sounds, the hands on his bare ass. Adam's unhinged beatdown and murderous fury, the smack of a skateboard, blood spatters and squelching -
While still terribly, terribly rattled, Miya couldn't help the quivering half-smile that came to his lips, and he nodded, if slightly, out of fear.
Later, Tadashi had taken his clothes from him to be burned.
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