#Zane just casually slipped on a smooth and scary persona and I'm INTO IT

[huyaoxiaozi]

       As Zane entered the room and met their captive's gaze, he was intrigued by the look that passed over the man's face. Skepticism, unease ... perhaps even fear, but maybe that was being too liberal with the term. If Yuki was truly, deeply afraid, he was doing an excellent job of hiding it. However, something was off, he could sense it — he didn't know what, but it was palpable, heavy in the air. Zane intended to find out exactly what it was.

       He was here to question him, to see what he could find out about Isen's plans, to see if Yuki was indeed useful leverage against him or not. Personally, Zane thought that Yuki could be useful in another, more long term way, if he could be persuaded to turn his back on Isen. They were rumored to be close, like father and son, but ... sometimes, loyalty only went so far when you were the one suffering for someone else's choices.

       As the door closed behind him, Zane cleared his throat audibly. He allowed his carefully crafted mask to slide into place with practiced ease.

       ❝Sorry,❞ Zane went on to say as he approached, not sounding the least bit sorry at all. ❝It's bad luck to be hospitable to those who betray you.❞ He paused, gaze briefly drifting off to his lower right, left eye squinting as he pretended to ponder his own words. ❝Arguably, I guess that could just be considered common sense.❞ he offered a dismissive half shrug, his demeanor casual, as if they were lightly bantering in a bar over drinks, perhaps.

       As Zane got closer, however, his body language subtly shifted as he circled Yuki, slow and deliberate. An odd mix of intrigue and danger ... and perhaps the facade of extending comradery, if Yuki played his cards right. A fox offering a flash of razor sharp teeth, circling potential cornered prey. ❝I suppose it wasn't you specifically who betrayed us. Isen did, but ... given your close ties to him, that makes you privy to his schemes. Just as much fair game as he is. Unless, of course, you care to disagree? ❞

       Despite the serrated burn of it, there was a honeyed allure to his voice as he spoke. He cast a curious glance over his shoulder to Yuki as he strode past his captive's right side, dark brows lifting with questioning emphasis. ❝From where I'm standing, it seems like he's the one who made a fucking mess and left you to deal with the consequences. Not an ideal arrangement, even if you do think of him as some kind of father figure — so ...❞

       Zane reached one of the chairs in the room by then and he smoothly picked it up one handed. After returning to stand in front of Yuki, he set the chair down backwards and settled down onto it, crossing his arms and resting them on the back of it, leaning forward expectantly. ❝I for one think that gives us something to discuss, don't you? ❞

@huyaoxiaozi

"Yuki?"

At the sound of his name, Yuki turned. An older man stood a block away, a man that seemed...vaguely familiar. His name was on the tip of Yuki's tongue, but he mentally flinched away from the sharp spike of pain in his temple. Like barbed wire on a fence, protecting whatever was inside...or protecting whatever was out.

"My god...you're alive," the man continued, taking a few steps closer. However, when Yuki drew back like a stray animal to an outstretched hand, the man stopped. He looked Yuki over with sad eyes that made Yuki grind his teeth.

"Who are you?" Yuki demanded.

"What happened to you?" the man countered, shaking his head slowly. "You look just like your father."

This stopped Yuki short. Like his father? Isen? No...someone else, someone whose face was blurry, distorted. Yuki's hands clenched at his sides.

"I don't know you," he said coldly.

"What did he do to you, son?"

Yuki's heart thumped loudly against his chest and he took another step back. The longer he looked at the man, the more something prodded at his mind, something that plagued his dreams often. Headlights, tires screeching, screams. Yuki shut his eyes hard.

"Come with me," the man begged. "There's something you should see."

Curse his curiosity, but Yuki had to know. And what he found changed everything.

He'd stumbled out of the police station, gasping for air, and when the detective put his hand on his shoulder, he broke out into a run. He ran until he couldn't anymore, finally stopping in an alley with his hand on the brick. And when he pressed his forehead to it, he realized he wasn't alone.

Maybe if he'd been on his game, he would've escaped. He would've killed them all. Still, though Yuki did damage to the men, he was knocked unconscious. And the next thing he knew, his arms were bound to a pole pressing against his back, his ankles tied together with rope. Not a soul was in the room.

He wasn't sure how much time passed. His mouth and throat ached with thirst. Pangs of hunger stabbed into his stomach for awhile, until they turned into clenching pain, nausea. It didn't matter. Most of the time, Yuki wasn't in his body. He was floating on the ceiling, watching a car crash over and over, seeing dark eyes he knew so well, being ushered to a black car. He remembered a warehouse much like this one, damp and dark, where his father -- where Isen had pushed him to his limits until he was a sobbing heap on the ground. Until his memories disappeared, until he became the perfect, obedient weapon. Until he was broken.

The door creaked open and a taller Chinese man entered. Yuki gave him a skeptical look and resisted the urge to back away as much as he could. For the first time, Yuki spoke, his voice rough as sandpaper.

"Your hospitality is terrible."