Reaching out (Closed. Sato)

It was one of those times were he decided to go without an escort, or even a ride for that matter. He may have been a rich and wealthy man, but he was still humbled. He held onto the railing of the train as he stood beside the other civilians of the city. He wore a full brown suit, with a brimmed hat to match. His vest blue with thin ivory pinstripes and a red tie with small white floral patterns decorating it. His face stared out the window, watching the wall of the tunnel pass as he neared his stop. Exiting the train with his leather suitcase in hand, he did well to blend in as any ordinary business man. He headed deeper into Tokyo, only after to pull out his phone to reread his messages. It really was reality, and he had really agreed to do something like this.

He would leave the station, heading onto the streets, only to be accompanied by a light rain. He had read of her love hotel more than a few times, and with a name like hers, it was hard to get the wrong place. He made his way to the doors, opening it to step inside. He would head to the receptionist, only to ask a single question.

"I am Sato Ketsujo," he would say, reaching into his inner coat pockets to pull out a business card with his name on it, as well as his company logo. He would hold it between two his fingers, as if it really mattered who he was. Setting on the desk, he would continue, "I'm come to meet with Rapture, or well, whoever is in charge of this place. I have a meeting with her." Female. Love hotel. Drugs. It was all he knew about her. But everything anyone wanted to know about him, seemed to be just one internet search away.

The person at the counter would look at him strange, only to instruct him to take a seat. With a nod, he would turn away from the counter and make his way to the nearest place for him to wait. Surely it would not take that long.

A strange woman would break his train of thought. He had wondered about his own life, and had begun to contemplate his own motives for his work, but still he found himself in the dark of the world. But why? The girl's caramel skin caught his eyes, while it was not new to him, it was not something he saw often. Most of his employees were either turned into beasts, or had pale or yellowed skin like majority of Japan. Her hair seemed to be as dark as the sky outside, and as she greeted him, he rose from his seat to follow her, his suitcase in hand. He was not one to make assumptions, but the way she carried herself seemed to be as if she was in charge. With little to no words between her and the receptionist, made it more so. That, or she was at least a respectable member of this Rapture's staff.

He stood in the elevator beside her, finding no need to make conversation until the job was started. Besides, small talk was useless banter that went no where. If there was nothing to be gained from the conversation, then why have it in the first place? Because it felt strange, or awkward? That was not a fear of his, nor a concern. He would listen to the low tones of the elevator as each floor was passed. It wasn't a small building, but to believe no one else had been calling for an elevator trip was a bit surprising. Were they closed for the evening? Was that why it was so silent?

As they exited the small boxed cage, they would walk further into the prison he was finding himself in. He was no longer on his terms, he was in the den of a lion. It was only a question of if she would pounce, or if she would accept the terms they agreed upon. As she opened the door, she would instruct him to take a seat, to which he would. As he passed through the doorway, he would remove his hat, only to place it on the table. He would sit his suitcase on the ground beside the table, standing erect, was if waiting to be knocked over. As she went off to get her own thing done, he would sit comfortably, staring at his hat, rather than the apartment.

Was what he allowed the right thing? Was any of it right? His daughter's entire career was built upon lies and corruption. All of the deceit and lies that clouded around him. Darkshine? He had allowed her to wear a mask and be a hero for the people. But her success, most of it staged, and even now so, it was all an act. But why did he do it? Was it for the money? No, he didn't need to make profit off her merchandise. It was nothing more than something to give him a little more investment money. His hospitals had ran more more efficiently than they should have. His banks were all protected and well insured. The supermarkets sold food at low costs using local farms and other suppliers to feed everyone for the lowest fees possible. He wasn't in this for the money, yet she found himself swimming in it. Why had he done everything the way he did. Why did he-

"Of course." his mind was interrupted by the sound of the tray resting on the table. He would reach out to get his own cup, thinking nothing of if it was drugged, or poisoned. If she wanted him dead, he would have been dead. She needed him, more than he needed her. But he didn't need anyone. He only needed himself.

"So the drug, I presume you have a supply on hand. What it is? An herb? Pills? Maybe a liquid?" he would ask, sipping his drink before setting it back onto the tray that rested on the table. He would lift his right foot to rest it upon his leg, the black socks showing themselves from behind the leather shoes as he did so. Leaning back, his hand rested before his face, a fist where his mouth began to chew on the tip of his thumb. "And I assume I should be addressing you as Rapture... correct?"

Perhaps he shouldn't have watched. It was odd to have his eyes follow her hands. Having her fingers dance around her blouse only to remove a baggy and a few pills within, rose a few questions, but none he would actually ask. If she knew he was coming, why not just leave them in the room they were in now? If she had a plentiful supply, why hold onto only three of all numbers? Where were the others being kept? Was it rationed? How much were they being forced to pay? He found himself poking his nose in a matter that wasn't his, but to have forced extortion no matter where funds were stored, had bothered him in a strange particular way.

"Pills are quite fine, and a little easier to work with." Reaching to the case. He would take his hat, only to drop it onto the ground, without the care he had before. He would take the briefcase only to open it up to pull out a few vials, a set of gloves and a strange machine. He removed them from the case, setting them beside it. He would reach into the loose pocket, only to take out two metal spoons as well, closing the case after. He would take up the little device, something that looked no more than a calculator or a stud finder people used when hanging picture frames. It had a short stubbed antennae at the top of it, no longer than an inch, only to have a few wires exposed beside it, one red and the other blue.

He looked up at the pills, but did not reach for them, it would be rude to do such things like that. Who would dare reach out when something was not offered to them. To assume was to make an ass out of both parties, and Sato was none to do such a thing. "If it's a pill, either that person's body is complex enough to mix chemicals, or they had upgraded their facilities to produce such a thing." After setting his devices, he would reach again to the cup, moving everything to the top of the case, as if to not allow any of his materials to rest upon her table for longer than needed. He would again sit back in his seat, but with both feet planted on the ground. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his legs as he folded his hands to ponder the situation. He was called only to confirm if it was made with a quirk, or without. As far as he understood, she wasn't asking to find who had been taking her funds either, or how to stop such a thing.

"You assume I'm only in this game for money." he would tell her, "Is it wrong for someone to want to do something just for the sake of doing the right thing?" he would tell her, almost taking offense to her words, but really he felt nothing towards them. He would again reach to his cup of coffee, drinking it straight, without any sugar or cream. He would finish it, setting it down onto the tray, carefully, as if it could break with the slightest touch. "I assumed we were all made aware that some of us can make up our mistakes. After all, a certain someone had left." He hated saying the screen and usernames aloud. Half of them were unprofesssional, like children playing videogames. Pointless numbers and references to unfunny things. Gucci Gang. A stupid name, for a stupid man who fell in love with a stupid woman. They were fighting day and night, until he left and it seemed as if they had made up. Pitiful people. Wasting so much pointless time with useless issues. "I always keep my word, Rapture. I have far more money than your little drug would ever be worth to me."

Everyone had their own reasons. People did good, or did bad, out of their own choices. Not everyone enjoyed all of the choices they made, as most seemed to be picking the lesser of two evils, but it was all a series of choices. No one was ever forced to do anything. There was always another choice, even if the one forced seemed like the only outcome. Sato would reach out with an open palm, waiting for her to drop it into his hands. He was not going to snatch it from her, after all it was poor manners. When she decided what she wanted to do, he would proceed. He was allowing her, to make her choice.

Most, if not everything she said was true. And when the pills were handed over, he would take one, only to crush it between the spoons. He would have acted carefully, but if what she said was true, whatever materials or supply she had was almost endless, forced upon her. From between the spoons, he would remove the top, to show the cracked pill within it. turning the top one over as she set it onto the table, he would dump half of the second spoon into the little glass filled with some water. He would allow it to dissolve, before taking his device, to let the wires fall into the cup. He would let it sit for a few moments, before trying to decipher a reading. "Well what side effects can you tell me? either as someone victim to it, or an onlooker, as both points of view are equally as important." He spoke, his mind focused, skipping over most of the details of the conversation.

As she asked her final question, the screen would light up, only to tell him bits and pieces. Rather than trying to make sense of what was made within it, he would try to learn what she said, to understand the composition of the pills before coming to a conclusion. "I've made nothing but mistakes. It's why I'm in this room now with you." he said it with a smile, finding a bit of twisted humor in their new interaction. "I don't think anyone, much less you would entertain my story, and if you did, you wouldn't believe me anyways." He would speak, waiting for the answers. While he could assume what composition the drugs were, the effects were far more important, int trying to make out what it was.

Did it enhance muscles? Could it had been a steroid? It seemed to have trades of something biological, but how could he really know for sure. "Even the bloodiest hands will try to clean themselves sometime." he would say. but from his experience, it was more of a bloodied face, one that feasted and washed itself every night. A useful pawn. The msot prized of his arsenal.

Or perhaps it might as well been a knight.

Life was a game, some played it, bending rules, but some who had been their since the start understood the value of the laws in place. Even relics would defy the laws of nature, the laws of the game for their own benefit. After all, what was the point if you could not win? But how could anyone win this game, if everyone died at the end? What counted as a success or a failure? To have the most before you died, or to impact the game in the largest way possible?

A broker, a loan shark had bought out a small credit union, which invested and bought out a small bank chain. That new company purchased another business and begun to sell in bulk. With a bit of self-loaning, they would invest in all kinds of businesses they knew would fail only to absorb and claim them as their own, buying deeds to properties they already owned. That was the legacy of the Ketsujo Corporation. That was, until a boy was born. A boy who killed his own mother with the power he was born with. He studied medicine, anything that could heal or mend wounds. He sought to ease pain, cure it, but after years, he would learn that there was no chance he could bring his mother back. She was dead, and his quirk was not one that could restore life, only take it. But instead he held a new goal, one to clean the slate for the Ketsujo name for the next generation. He studied medicine. He practiced. He bought out clinic after clinic, chasing his cure, his serum. Then he found himself owning a vast collection of medicines and hospitals. He only wanted to cure her. To save her from herself. to prevent her from-

"Huh. That's peculiar." he would say, listening to her counts of the drug. It seemed to effect the mind to allow them to perceive any idea as a good one, something good for a slave. It wasn't too strange, but with the severe withdrawal, the victims would crave to be puppeted, to get another dose to be another obedient toy. It didn't matter who or what you were, you would fall victim, if not to the effects, to the pain of when it was leaving you. It always hurt when things left...

Three years. Three years ago she hired her. Three years ago it started. Three years ago Japan was a darker place. Three years ago the country was full of nameless thugs and villains, and now it seemed the quirked few remained. Had it been that long? Had it been that long since she had-

"That's how it goes, isn't it?" he would say to her, listening to her recollection of her past. A drop-out and a college graduate sit in a room... sounds like the start to a bad joke. "Just because one of my hospitals was attacked by an associate of mine, doesn't make me have a change of heart." He told her, setting the things on the table before returning back to his seat. He knew what he needed to know about the drug in front of him, and he would tell her when, and if he finished his story. "My father was corrupt. He funded the underground, feeding each and every thug that he could employ. He paid off politicians and police officers to support him, and turn a blind eye when he asked. When he died, I inherited his business, as well as his practice." he would lift his right foot to set it upon his left leg as his hand rose to lightly press against the front of his chin in his thought. "I did what he did, because it was all I knew how to do, even if I knew it was wrong. I had advisers to aid me when I was studying, but most, if not all had been killed, or died off, most likely to quirks they faced." His eyes would snap back, to stare into the face of the woman to try and find what she was really thinking behind her sapphire eyes. "I help you, because it was why I sought to be a doctor. However I hold my stance, and my hold on my corporation because if I step down, something more sinister will take my place." He would lower his hand to the arm of the seat, only to find that no position would allow him to be comfortable after telling his tale. "As for the drug, either there's someone with better facilities than mine to concoct this. Most of this seems to be natural, but is composed in a way factories... in short, it's not something a normal runner would be selling you. I'd assume a quirk, or a series of quirk users."

How could anyone not be filled with fear or excitement over the matter? People watched Japan's number one villain go toe to toe with Japan's number one hero. You either cheered for the heroine to win or lose, depending which side of the law you were on. You were either glad or exited with the outcome. Either you believed Darkshine had defeated him, or cheered that even the number one hero could be defeated, almost killed even. But why would Sato cheer? If either died, he lost. If either won, he lost. There was nothing to gain in it, the lives lost were collateral damage. Either his friend won the battle, and his daughter was shamed, or she was turned into a hero, and his friend was taken into custody. The latter of which, he had allowed to happen, only to free him later. Something he knew would eventually come to haunt his kin. Nothing he did excited him anymore. It was all an act to him, staged, arranged and organized. The outcome may not have been what he wanted, but he had planned accordingly. He had to. It was his job. He was their insurance.

Her eyes were fixated on him, something that had begun to unsettle him. Never had anyone really looked at him the way she did when he talked. It was strange, creepy even. It was unsettling. Was she having an interest in his story, or was she thinking about how much of it was really true? He didn't like lingering on the thought, he felt as if it could only lead to poor ideas, and even worse decisions. "The hero that my corporation also makes merchandise of?" he would say it outright. But he would not confirm his relation to the girl. He wanted nothing to do with her namesake, but at the same time, he had no issue is claiming her under his wing. "Innocents die every day. I can only do what I can to prevent death, but once it occurs, all I can do is dispose of the remains." He sold bobble heads, towels, trading cards, and just about anything he could print the Darkshine name and face on. Money was money, and the more fame his daughter had, the better chance he had at making the world forget what kind of person he was. Maybe everyone would forget.

But as he spoke out, he would feel her touch lay upon his arm, something that caused him to get startled, flinching even at contact. It certainly wasn't what he expected of her. But they had concluded and gotten back to business. He preferred it that way. He hated talking about his own life. "At most I can administer some kind of antidote that would lessen the effects of withdrawal, but would rely on me getting concrete data. I'd have to take at least one dose. You shouldn't put yourself through it, I have someone who will willingly take it, and will be able to recover quite expediently. I could have it done in a week, tops. Then the withdrawal will most likely no different than being sleep deprived, or extreme exhaustion, of which I could also give some energy supplements to counteract that as well while they recover." He spoke, Barely stopping to breathe. Something about it made it very uncomfortable. He started to breathe a bit faster, sweating slightly as he considered his options.

But surely his assistant would take the dose with the promise of another meal, there was nothing she would say no to, if it meant saving the general population. After all, it was why he had kept her for so long.