Interrogation

"So...where do you want me to start?"

Cedar sat in a small room, the kind that tv detectives conducted all their interviews out of. Opposite him sat the team leader, straight backed and attempting to look formal. His stance was far more relaxed by comparison.

Whisper offered a small smile before shuffling through some paperwork. "How about from the beginning?" She offered. "What happened, what you saw and why you got involved?"

"Your friends were walking like zombies, all blank and purposeless, y'know? It felt off. Wrong. I had headphones in, so I didn't hear the singing at first. I sort of followed from a distance until I saw him, the big guy. Then I got my ass kicked and woke up here."

"And broke that hypnosis."

"And did that, yeah. It's easy when you know how his powers work."

Whisper raised an eyebrow. It looked perfectly plucked to him. "And how do his powers work? Who is he?"

He hesitated, thinking about how to best answer that. He was more than willing to give out as much information on the criminal locked in the team's cells as he could, but needed to avoid incriminating or leading back to himself. Finally, he decided to start with "have you ever heard of The Rainbow Brigade?"

The team leader shook her head.

"That's fair. They disbanded before I was born, and most likely before you were, unless you're way older than you look. They were a group of wannabe vigilante heroes in Alabama, only...they weren't very good. Like, they had power and they could work together and figure out how to use that power, but they weren't good people, and their version of justice was...sick. If you go to the right part of the state, you can hear a lot about what they did. They all wore colour coded uniforms, hence the rainbow name, and the green one turned out to be a serial killer or something. The guy in your holding cells right now? His name is Storm Sullivan, used to go by Ballad. He sings. When he sings, he can make you do whatever he wants. He wants you to ride a unicycle while juggling pies? That song makes you do it. It doesn't have to be a specific song, he just has to sing with a command in mind."

Cedar wondered if this was how it felt to give testimony in court.

"And how do you stop it?" Whisper asked, hand poised to write down the secret.

"Simple. You disrupt the song. It doesn't matter how, but if you stop him singing, or you drown him out with a louder sound, or plug your ears, you're golden. He can't hypnotise you if you can't hear him."

"Hence why the headphones kept you safe." Something didn't quite fit with the story given by Hex and Crayon before, however. "But...how did you disrupt the song? My team didn't even know you were there until...Sullivan attacked you."

"Loud noise." He answered quickly. "I don't think people under his control properly remember it."

"I see...do you by any chance know why he was after us, or you?"

"What makes you think he was after me?"

"My team said he went right past them and attacked you. I doubt it was just because you 'made a loud noise'."

That made sense. "He knows about my sensory powers. He...wants to use his powers to use my powers to somehow make himself popular or a hero again. I don't really get it, I don't know what specifically he wants to do, but...yeah. I think...he was...I don't know if he wanted your team for their powers or just to lure me out or what...I, I, I just know he wants attention, and lots of it, positive attention for all the wrong reasons." This seemed safe to say. It didn't give the full details of how they were related, but it still wasn't a lie.

Whisper nodded, tapped her finger nervously against the table. Something was still bugging her. "Last question, Cee, then you can go back to the infirmary. This Rainbow Brigade, I know you said they'd disbanded, but is there any chance Sullivan is still in touch with them?"

"Like...you're worried they might come after me, or you?"

"It's a possibility."

Cedar tilted his head back as he tried to think, tried to remember any evidence of his father still talking to his old friends. "Well...three of them died, but he might...I don't know either way."

"Can you tell me anything about the rest of them?"

"Greenfield was very well known serial killer, but they never found out his real identity." At the mention of Greenfield, Whisper's expression hardened. "You know him?"

"Not personally, but I know someone directly affected by his murders."

"Sorry. I, uh, don't know much about his powers-"

"I know someone who will, don't worry too much about it."

"Kay, but, uh, if he knows about my powers, I think he'd be interested."

"I'll bear that in mind. Thank you for your time, Cee. You can go relax now."

With a slight nod, he stiffly got to his feet, wincing slightly, still sore. The girl gave him a slightly sympathetic look. As he straightened fully, a loud bang rocked the tower, the shockwave almost sending him off his feet. Both of them gripped the table for stability and exchanged equally worried looks. Cedar spoke first.

"That's, uh, not a good sound, is it?"

"It absolutely is not."

Siren Song

 The voice carried over the summer breeze was irresistible, the most enticing song they had ever heard, and they obediently marched towards it hand in hand, drawn ever closer to the source. This was Storm's power, the power to make anyone who heard his voice do his bidding. He could control vast numbers of people at once if he so desired, but tonight...tonight he only needed the child.

His real target was a teenage boy by the name of Cedar, someone he'd been trying to manipulate for years in the hopes of regaining his old glory, but Cedar was slippery, and had the right powers to allow him to resist the siren's call. So Storm had a new plan. Rather than go directly for Cedar, he would be taking hostages, most of them young. He knew the boy wasn't the type of person who could sit by quietly while children suffered, if only because he would worry about the safety of his own younger siblings. Sooner or later, his true target would come out of the woodwork. After all, the other young 'heroes' really nothing more than kids playing dress up, didn't know diddly squat about the powerful man spreading his power.

Cedar himself had watched the dazed pair walking down the dark alley. He had headphones on, music up loud, purposely blocking out the song he knew was there, the song that broke through between the songs on his phone. He had a backpack, both straps broken, clutched in his hand, filled with what you could call that night's grocery shopping. The little girl, he guessed she was about eight or ten, seemed perfectly normal. Brown hair, purple dress, some crayons stuffed in what he figured was a bum bag around her waist. The teenage boy was clearly a super. A mutant or metahuman. Silver skin, long, purple hair, athletic build, and a faint glow around him that Cedar saw cover every superhuman. A glow that apparently no-one else really saw. If he wasn't hypnotised, Cedar guessed the boy could have taken care of things himself, but as things were he would need rescuing.

When the two drew close enough to see Storm's face, for him to reach out to grab them, two sharp claps rang out across the alleyway, and suddenly the voice was no longer as beautiful or hypnotising. The two victims blinked in confusion as the hold over their minds faded away. He grabbed for the child, but both of them reared back, the teenager throwing an arm out in front of her protectively. He threw his other hand out in front, towards their attacker, and looked horrified when nothing happened. It wasn't just Storm's powers that clap had stopped, it was the teenager's as well. "Stay back!" He warned the man. It didn't sound very threatening with his slight stutter and overly polite sounding British accent. Storm sprinted forward, and the teenager pushed the child fully behind him and threw his arms up to shield his face.

Storm went right past them and swung for a fourth figure half-crouched behind a dumpster. With a yelp, Cedar threw his bag out to catch the punch and scrambled out of the way. While Cedar was strong, and experienced in fair and controlled fights, the kind you might experience in professional sporting circles, this was unlikely to be the same. The man was well over six feet tall, muscular and, well, a grown adult, which against the nervous 16 year old was a definite advantage.
"I was wondering when you'd show yourself." The man mused, looming over the child who shifted to a battle ready position. Kickboxing stance, he figured from the looks of it. Storm aimed high, hoping to get the kid to duck low, manipulate his balance. Cedar's stance, however, seemed very solid. His fight classes had clearly done him well. He couldn't evade forever though.

Every other hit Cedar got in was blocked, and every other block he attempted was broken through with ease. Storm's speed was greater than his own, and even without his powers to aid him he was confident, striking hard, fast and sure. One particular hit to Cedar's ribs generated an unpleasant crack and grating sound, and had him falling to his knees. Still, he didn't let up. Once he had the boy down, he continued to strike, showing no mercy as he curled up to protect himself. In the background, through his shield of his own limbs, Cedar saw the girl. The teenage boy was gone, and she was crouched down, drawing something on the grotty ground with her crayons. He wondered why she hadn't run, until he saw her give some kind of hand signal. That was when he saw her lift the item she had drawn from the ground itself, and heard a battle cry from the teenager. And suddenly, Storm was no longer attacking him, but fighting off a weak assault from the other teen. He was holding something he must have dug out from one of the dumpsters. Cedar passed out before he could see the girl use the taser she'd drawn to take the villain down.

When Hex and Crayon were sure the villain wasn't getting up again, they hurried over to the fallen teenager, rolling him onto his back to take a look at his injuries. Definitely a broken bone or two, and his left shoulder had dislocated. Lots of cuts and bruises. Hex opened his communicator, ready to call for backup and transport. He didn't know his powers had returned the moment the boy had lost consciousness, and didn't know if the boy was the cause or if the man was, but if it was the boy it looked like he'd done something in order to save them. Knowing, however, that this boy had just been involved in a fight with a definite super, and could have been a super himself, he thought maybe it would be safer to have Luca look at him before sending him to a normal hospital.

((Fun fact, because Crayon's powers are entirely down to the crayons she possesses, Cedar's power-nullifying ability doesn't work on her. He can't stop inanimate objects from being powerful, and also won't be able to register Crayon as a super. Non-human supers, like Shadow Weaver/Tarquin Soul also wouldn't have the super glow he sees around them either. For those who don't know, Cedar, also known as The Censor, can cancel out powers by clapping twice. If he claps again, gets too far away, enough time passes or he loses consciousness, the effect ends. Crayon belongs to my friend.))

The Demon's Rage

When the demon Duiwel sent us off, the words he said stuck in my head for days after. Words that were both a command and a warning. He sent us off, promising whoever found the artefact that would return all his stolen powers to him even before he had fully recovered from his imprisonment would survive alongside their families. He told us not to return until we had found it, or our families would pay the price. He told us we had until he'd recovered what strength had not been sealed separately, which would most likely be towards the end of December, the year Mudiwa, Nyah and I turned 21.

So the clock was ticking. We were scattered, still with parts of the broken shrine in hand. My skin had paled and flaked, became as sand, and as I travelled and searched, I became acquainted with my new body, and in turn with my new abilities.

That was when I made a dire mistake.

Duiwel had called himself weak, or weakened, and I'd remembered that the most. If he was weak, and he'd gifted some of his powers to the four of us, then maybe there was a chance to save our families, the very ones he held hostage.

Thinking back on it all, I wasn't thinking straight. I missed my family. My mother, my sisters...I was the only male left in our family, the only one fully educated, the best my rather small family had for support. I was the man of the house, and suddenly I had disappeared without a trace. The idea that they were worrying about me, the idea that they might be afraid, or suffering in any way, it was unbearable. It kept me up at nights.

So I returned to our little rural village. I returned with a plan. I would find my sisters, my mother, my family, help them escape the village, escape the demon's reach, and then face him myself. I had no idea where he had sent the other three, but he had given me his powers, powers that could send anyone to sleep, and even before these powers were mine I was a strong guy. A big guy.

I genuinely, stupidly thought I had a chance.

I didn't even make it to my family.

The demon headed me off by one of the fields, one I'd cut across many times as a child between school and my home, and I had raised my fists, ready to fight. Anything for my family. Anything for my friends.

~

As the sun rose over the village, recently rocked by the sudden unexplained disappearance of four teenagers, a strange sound called the villagers out to the field, gouged deep overnight. There stood the fearsome creature known as Duiwel, and in his claws was me. I was injured, faint, held upright only by his grip on my hair, and when everyone was gathered, he spoke.

"Ladies and gentlemen. As you know, young Boipelo Hassan and his friends went missing just last month. The good news is, though you may not recognise him straight away, I have young Boipelo right here! The bad news here is, well...he and I had a deal. I would keep you all alive and completely unharmed provided he went and got something of mine before coming back here. He, unfortunately, did not keep his end of the deal, so now I see no reason why I should." With his other hand, he beckoned to the frightened crowd. "I think I shall start with his family, then move to the loving families of his young friends. What are their names, boy?"

Instead of answering, I spat, and he yanked my head back hard.

"No matter. It's these four lovely ladies here, correct?"

He brought them forward, though I don't know how, and paraded me before them. Let them see the injuries I'd sustained fighting him. And true to his word, he destroyed them.

It was a massacre. People ran and screamed, tried to escape the moment he began to tear into and torture the first victim, my own mother. Each and every one of them was caught, even as the previous victim's screams still pierced the air. Through it all, he kept my eyes open, made me watch every single one, each and every kill.

It was my fault. I wanted to hang out by the old shrine, I started playing rough, and I went back despite the warnings and caused all of those deaths. At the end of it all, I was kneeling on the floor, surrounded by swathes of blood and chunks of what had once been people. My people.

Alcohol And Idiots Do Not Mix

 Kuroko didn't quite recall how he'd ended up in a hotel. By the looks of it, what little he could see beyond the sun shield that was his own arm, it was a fairly nice hotel. He remembered somewhere in the back of his mind Akashi insisting they call it a night because someone had done something stupid and one of Aomine's friends was about three seconds away from being arrested, and he remembered falling over and someone picking him up bridal style...he must have passed out or fallen asleep after that, though he wasn't sure if, in the end, the others had listened to an ever so slightly drunk Akashi's suggestion. Evidently, he at least had managed to make it somewhere with a bed.

Slowly, Kuroko managed to move his arm away from his eyes and get his other arm underneath him, trying to use it to lever himself up into a seated position. There wasn't anyone else in the room, which really was a nice room. He was alone, as far as he could see, and surprisingly hungover for someone who went into a celebration or a night out or whatever you might call it with the decision to not get blind drunk and fall over on level ground and have to be carried back to a hotel by his boyfriend.

He managed not to groan as he attempted to swing his legs off the bed, got them caught up in the duvet and spent the next minute and a half with his eyes squeezed shut trying to kick his legs free before he could finally put his feet, still clad in muddy shoes for some reason or another, on the floor, only to find he wasn't alone in the room, someone was sleeping next to the bed, and trying to step on them sent him sprawling forward onto the carpet. He decided to lay there for a good few minutes, face down on the floor. It wasn't like anyone would care. He didn't even get up when he heard a shriek from down the hall. He heard footsteps outside the door, supposedly someone rushing off to the rescue, and felt something move against his own feet. Kagami groaned as he woke up and rolled onto his side, curling into a ball.

"What happened last night?" He moaned. "Why does my tongue taste of cardboard and dirt?"

"Aomine-kun's stag night." Came a mumbled response, spoken into the tickly carpet.

"Kuroko?"

"Yes?"

From down the hall, they both heard a shout of 'Oh God, what the hell is that doing in here?' and both looked to the door. Slowly, far slower than Kuroko had been before, Kagami got to his feet, question or request completely forgotten. He was barefoot, inching towards the door like a zombie. It was almost funny. After a moment, Kuroko decided to join him, both arriving at the door just in time to see a sheep rush past down the hall, being chased by three of Aomine's friends. Wakamatsu, Sakurai and one of Aomine's university friends, or maybe work friends (Kuroko couldn't remember his name, but he remembered he smelled funny, and he could still smell him now over the stench of sheep) appeared to be trying to corral the poor creature towards the lifts and stairwells, each displaying various degrees of panic upon their faces.

Kagami stared at the scene for about a minute before running a hand over his face with a groan. "I'm going back to bed." He announced before turning back and slamming the door, leaving Kuroko locked outside his hotel room.

"Ah, Kagami-kun..." He turned and tried to open the door, but gave up quickly. There was no response to him knocking, either. As if the big idiot had already fallen asleep.

He honestly wasn't quite sure how long he stood there, zoned out and wishing he could function or that he had water before the door opposite opened and someone called out to him. A man with a camera around his neck  and an excited smile  on his face. Clearly not hungover. In fact, every word he said was so loud Kuroko thought his head might split in two.

"Hey!" He called. "Oh my god, hey, come here, come here! You gotta see this! The really really big guy and the naggy redhead are in bed together!"

With that, he disappeared into the room he'd just opened, and Kuroko stared after him for a moment. The big guy and the nagging redhead? Murasakibara and Akashi maybe? After all, that fit the biggest guy and the only redhead Kuroko hadn't already seen. Well...that was interesting, certainly, but what really enticed him into that room was  that, through the open door, he could see a table with bottled water on it, which he went straight to before anything else.

Okay, so it turned out Murasakibara and Akashi really were in bed together. Fully clothed, fast asleep, clearly with nothing going on, but at some point in the night the former had evidently decided he needed a collection of teddy bears. That collection was mostly formed of hotel pillows, a table lamp, and Akashi's sleeping form. Additionally, there was a third man in the bed between the two, but between their legs and completely hidden by the covers, a fourth man could be heard vomiting in the en suite bathroom, and Imayoshi was asleep in an armchair, though his glasses appeared to have slipped off his face and onto his shoe at some point during the night. The man that had called Kuroko in, another one he didn't quite remember the name of but who was definitely the guy who almost got arrested, was taking photos of the carnage. Kuroko briefly wondered if he'd photographed the sheep fiasco at all. It certainly seemed like something worth making a memory of.

The wannabe photographer moved off towards the bathroom, calling for Aomine as he went. Honestly, with the amount he'd been drinking the night before, Kuroko wasn't surprised that Aomine was vomiting. He was pretty sure the poor idiot had been vomiting at the club as well. A movement caught the shadow's eye and he found himself looking back to the bed as the man asleep by the miracles' legs began to wake, moving up until his head was resting on part of Murasakibara's pillow collection, just under the lamp.

Midorima. Fully clothed, by the looks of things, just like the other two, glasses and all. For all of two seconds, he lay there, reluctant to open his eyes, as though he knew the world beyond his eyelids would not be kind to him, but when Murasakibara heaved a great sigh into his face, still mid-dream himself, Midorima found himself needing to open his eyes to see who was that close to his face.

It might have been the snap realisation of who he was sharing a bed with, or it might have just been that their faces were almost touching and that in itself was a shock, but the moment those green eyes opened, their owner bellowed out an almighty shriek and pulled back, colliding with the blissfully asleep Akashi and bringing them both off the bed, along with the duvet that had been covering the three former miracles. A scream in his face was enough to wake Murasakibara up, and he shot upright with a yelp, clutching his precious lamp to his chest as he watched the scene with wide eyes before making a vague, noncommittal sound and flopping back down into his pillow hoard. At the same time, the two men in the bathroom came running into the main bedroom, clearly alerted by the scream and apparently not vomiting. Kise and the photographer.

"What's going on?" Photographer yelled. "We heard screaming, and not good screaming!"

There was no answer for a moment, just a lot of cursing as Midorima and Akashi tried to get themselves untangled from each other and the bedclothes, and Kise leaned over to whisper in Kuroko's ear.

"What are Midorimacchi and Akashicchi doing?"

"Bonding." Kuroko replied with a slight shrug.

"Oh." Kise's breath reeked of vomit.

It was Akashi who managed to disentangle himself first, crawling away from the duvet and the other man, eyes screwed shut in what may have been pain. He crawled headfirst into the wicker chair Imayoshi slept in and groaned, collapsing sideways to the floor and laying there stock still. Imayoshi jerked awake with an unattractive snort and peered blearily around the room.

"Where am I? Oh god, my head..." His eyes shut again and he clumsily massaged his temples.

"My hotel room." Akashi responded irritably, eyes snapping open again. "Why are you all in my room?"

"Look, man, I don't even know who you are. I just know my head hurts..."

"Atsushi, get out of my bed."

"But I'm so comfy..."

Midorima managed to get free from the duvet he'd managed to wrap around himself like a cocoon and limped to the bathroom, almost tripping over Akashi as he went. Akashi, in turn, sat up and drew his legs to his chest to prevent anyone else tripping over him. Wakamatsu peeked  into the room through the door Kuroko had left wide open.

"Uh...is everything okay in here?" Silence and staring. "Is Aomine in here?" More silence, but this time Kise shook his head.

"He isn't in the bathroom?" Kuroko asked.

"No." Photographer answered. "It was only blondie here in there."

"Kise."

"Gesundheit."

Sakurai and Aomine's other university friend were behind Wakamatsu, seemingly trying to look into the room over the blond's shoulders. "Imayoshi-san looks like he's going to throw up." The former muttered, mostly to himself. "Throw up or die."

Looking back to the man in question, Kuroko had to agree he did look rather ill. His face was an impressive shade of grey, and rather sweaty, and he'd been gradually leaning over to one side since he'd last spoken, like  his spine had simply given up on keeping him upright. Perhaps it was still drunk.

"Yeah, Imayoshi, we don't need to call an ambulance for you or something, do we?" Wakamatsu asked with obvious concern that may have bordered on full on fear for the other man's life. Imayoshi took about five minutes to realise he was being addressed, by which point Midorima had emerged from the bathroom, having attempted to comb his hair and wash his face at the least, and the others had decided it might be worthwhile calling an ambulance after all because the grey-faced idiot just wasn't responding, and then

"Oh, I'm Imayoshi...am I Imayoshi?" He ran a hand up his face and through his hair as he spoke.

"Uh...yeah?"

"Oh...I don't need an  ambulance...I'm good...I could do with throwing up though..." He then scowled. "Imayoshi? Really?"

Akashi decided that was as good a time as any to try and get to his feet, handing the confused Imayoshi his glasses back in the process. Imayoshi seemed to have no idea what he was supposed to do with them. "So is Aomine not in his room?"

"He's...not anywhere..." Replied an equally stunned and confused Wakamatsu. "Nowhere we've looked, anyway..."

The redhead thought for a moment, trying to cast his mind back. "Did...did he even make it to the hotel with us?"

Kise shook his head again. "Didn't...did he even leave the club with us?"

"Why wouldn't he?"

"I don't  know, but...I think we left him behind..."

"Just call him." Midorima told them. "He probably hasn't gone far anyway." He limped past the wicker chair to pick up the tangled mess of bedclothes and pillows, as he was the one that  had knocked them all to the floor, and dumped them on the bed. Imayoshi caught sight of his reflection in the window.

"Oh god!" He exclaimed. "Who's that ugly motherfucker?"

"You." Akashi told him.

"No, the one with the glasses. The ugly one with the weird eyes."

"You." He repeated.

"Oh god."

"Shintaro."

"What?" He asked, barely offering the redhead a glance.

"...Have you done something to your leg?"

He glanced down to the offending limb. "I guess so." He shifted his lower leg experimentally. "It aches..."

"Roll your pant leg up."

He did so, rolling it up to his knee and craning his head back to try and see.

On his lower leg, a large, white, square bandage had been stuck to his skin. Akashi knelt down to take a look at Midorima's calf, gripping the edge of the bandage and tearing it off.

"What is that?" The green-haired man asked, looking at the strange mark revealed. He'd been expecting a stitched injury, perhaps. Something that signified he'd fallen and hurt himself while intoxicated. Instead, he could see something green and sore-looking as he tried to twist his leg to see better.

"It's a tattoo." Akashi answered.

"What?!"

"A tattoo." He repeated as Kuroko came to crouch beside him and get a better look.

"A tattoo of what? What is it?"

"A caterpillar."

"A cutesy caterpillar." Kuroko added.

"Wearing a little pink bow." Akashi confirmed.

"Have you got any others?"

"No!" Midorima yelped before patting himself down experimentally. "At least...I hope not." Surely he would know if he had any other tattoos, right? The one on his leg hurt, after all. And he didn't remember getting any other tattoos. Then again, he didn't remember getting the caterpillar either. "I need a mirror."

At that moment, Kagami came bursting through the door. "I heard screaming!"

"That was ages ago, Kagami-kun. You've missed all the fun."

"Is...is everyone else in here?" He asked, looking around curiously, and then "Is that a tattoo?"

Midorima dropped his trouser leg and rubbed a hand over his face. "I can never wear shorts again..."

"Aomine's missing." Kuroko corrected his light. "Have you seen him?"

"No. Have you tried calling him?"

"No, but we were going to."

Akashi dipped into his pockets before frowning. "My phone isn't there..." He muttered, checking another pocket before looking at the bed. "Did it fall out?"

"I don't have mine either!" Photographer yelped, looking mortified.

"I'm sorry, but mine's gone too!" Sakurai cried  next as most of the others began to search their pockets for their phones. Midorima, Kuroko, Kagami and Aomine's other university friend still had  theirs, and Imayoshi managed to find his in his back pocket.

"I have a phone." He slurred. "I've got a text." He took a few minutes to read the text, frowned, read it again and then gasped. "Guys, I have a sister."

Completely ignoring him, Kuroko found Aomine in his contacts (it wasn't a long search) and called him.

A cheerful tune filled the room, prompting everyone to turn to the source, which was one of the pockets of Murasakibara's trousers. After a moment, the purple-haired giant dug the ringing phone out of his pocket, stared at  it as  he considered whether or not to answer  it, and then said "This isn't my phone."

"It's Aomine's." Kuroko agreed as the phone rang out.

"Why do I have phones?" He asked, reaching into each of his pockets and pulling out more and more devices, laying each one on the bed beside him. Kise's, Akashi's, Sakurai's, Wakamatsu's, the photographer's, his own, of course, and an additional and expensive looking phone that nobody claimed as their own. Akashi's phone was decorated with an unpleasant looking crack across both the screen and the back. Murasakibara insisted he had no idea how it happened.

"We'll have to go looking for  him." Kuroko mused.

There was a general murmur of agreement. After all, this was a strange, unfamiliar place. They couldn't just leave the poor idiot to fend for himself. He'd probably end up being eaten by badgers the next town over. If  he didn't just wander around in circles until he dropped.

As everyone else began to get up and set out, Imayoshi lurched forward in his seat and began to vomit profusely over the carpet.

((So I actually wrote this a long time ago and posted it only to my tumblr because technically this was an unfinished version. I was also going to write flashbacks to the night itself and them actually looking for Aomine, but I never went back to finish it, and I wanted to share these parts when I finished them. Also introducing Yuri (the smelly guy) and Mitsuki (the photography student), who are not mentioned by name, but exist because I'm pretty sure Aomine would have friends he made between leaving school and getting married.))

The Slaughterhouse Kid's Test

Missie was conscious the entire journey, but bound and gagged, blindfolded. Whatever they'd bound her with was actually quite comfortable. Soft, but tied tight. The amount of care they'd taken to not harm her in transit was surprising, but appreciated, even if her being in good nick was just to be used for leverage. She was pretty sure she knew already who had taken her and why, and with that in mind her future prospects weren't looking good. Unable to see, unable to move her limbs, she couldn't use her powers or fight to protect herself, and the end goal of these people would most likely be her death. Obviously, she was afraid. She wanted to scream and cry and fight for her life. But she couldn't do a thing.

She had been placed in a vehicle, a van or a truck she thought, somewhere in the back on her side, and off the kidnappers had driven. Someone was in the back with her. Occasionally, when the truck lurched, she felt their foot press against her, possibly keeping her from sliding all over the place. She wasn't sure if it was motion sickness or morning sickness, but she felt like she might hurl any moment. Feeling nauseous with your mouth blocked was never great, and she was honestly anxious she might choke on her own vomit before she even made it to wherever they planned to execute her.

The journey was a good two hours of lefts, rights and roundabouts she couldn't keep track of. It ended in a sudden stop, a slam of the breaks that had her squealing in terror. Hands were on her and she was hoisted up, carried inside a building and made to kneel on what felt like a hard, metal grate. A man stood there beside her, a hand on her shoulder. She shivered in fear.

"Get McCree. Tell him I need to talk to him about something vitally important."

"Yes sir." Footsteps. The sound of a heavy door. Silence.

Another door opened, this time in front of her, and the voice of the underling before sounded out. "Sir, Agent McCree here to see you."

Castor stepped into the large metal room, often nicknamed The Gallows by his colleagues, and respectfully dropped to one knee. If he was surprised to see the superhero, Total Nightmare, bound at the hands of his boss, albeit out of costume and in her nightclothes, he didn't show it in his eyes. The downturn of his lips at the sight was hidden by his mask. The boss himself, a tall man who kept his true face hidden and his true voice disguised, stood to the side on an elevated platform, while a skinhead ranked at a measly 19 in the runnings stood at the captive's side, a shit eating grin on his face. The woman who had come to fetch him was so low in ranks she was little more than a runner or messenger.

"Agent McCree." The boss began, reclining leisurely against the railing around his platform. "I have a small assassination job for you, and it's been a while since I saw your abilities in person. I thought it might be entertaining to have you put on a little show for me." He gestured to the girl and the agent below, an uncaring flick of the hand. "Agent Nevers here has brought this lovely young lady to our base. A miss Melissa Colleen Varnham. I believe you know her."

Castor replied only with a slight incline of his head.

"Excellent. Agent Nevers and I have confirmed you and Miss Varnham...well, let's just say you've found her useful for whetting your sexual appetites, shall we? And that in and of itself is fine, and to be expected. You came to us very young, pledged to throw away friends, family and loved ones, and to be loyal to us, when you were but a child. Since then, you've been through the changes of puberty, and your emotional needs have changed. It was bound to happen eventually that hormones and cravings would drive you to experiment sexually with the body of another. And that does not concern us, my boy, so do not worry. I have no problem with my employees spending some time with a sex worker or on a one night stand."

"But...?"

He could almost feel the boss smirking down at him. "Did this particular young lady ever make you aware that she was carrying your child?"

"Never. Our only contact has been during our...sexual liaisons." It wasn't completely true. While Missie certainly had not yet informed him of her pregnancy, their relationship was certainly more than just casual sex.

"I see. And do you still stand by the pledge you made upon joining us?"

"Of course, sir."

"Of course. I'm sorry, I have to ask. After all, some make this pledge without truly being able to keep it. Agent Soyka, Agent Vrana, Agent Clausius, Agent Hassan...you used to be close to Agent Hassan, did you not?"

"When he defected, he told me he believed if we'd not been part of the agency we could have been friends."

"What a sweet fantasy. Of course, we still haven't obtained Agent Hassan's head...but he defected because he had a child, did he not?"

"Correct."

"Yes. The human heart sure is a tricky thing. Now, obviously, we don't want to run the risk of you getting attached, or of someone finding out you have connections or emotional bonds you really shouldn't have. McCree is our finest killing machine, correct?"

"Correct."

"And anyone could try to use any family or partners you might have to manipulate you, to prevent you being at your best."

"I have no bonds. I'm loyal only to The Agency."

"Of course, of course, of course. So this entire conversation is just a long-winded way of saying I support you, but please be careful. You're like a son to me, Castor. I don't want any more accidental pregnancies."

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent. Now, on with the show. Kill the girl, and her unborn child. Show no mercy. Make it flashy. I want to see how you've improved since last time. I know you prefer your targets to try and escape, but just this time you'll have to make do with a bound captive."

Castor got to his feet. Missie's breath hitched. Perhaps she was crying. He had options, of course. Option one was to do as his boss said, and slice his girlfriend to ribbons in the most theatrical way he could think of. Option two would be to attack Agent Nevers, the shithead currently looking down Missie's top. Option three would be to tactically cut the ribbon around Missie's eyes, allowing her to see any other oncoming blades and thus allowing her to redirect them. Anything but option one would have the rest of the agency coming to kill him. Stalling for time wasn't an option either, though he was sure if word of Missie's disappearance got to the group keeping Hassan under custody, he'd probably tell them exactly where to find her. He liked his job as an assassin, and didn't want his relationship with a superhero to be the end of it.

He took a deep, steadying breath, withdrew his weapons and took aim.