mild drug use in this first part... He didn't remember where he was. The air throbbed with sounds and lights, hot, sweating bodies pressing together and grinding along with the pulsing drums. Smoke and alcohol, silks and leathers, sweat and perfumes, his senses were going on overload and he didn't care. There was a body under him, a wet mouth and hot tongue tangling with his, and sharp nails scraping across his scalp and down his neck. He jerked his head back, gulping at the humid air and slender fingers slipped between his lips, sliding something bitter onto his tongue.
Takegami glanced at the woman, lips parted and his tongue feeling numb. The numbness spread into a tingling sensation and he actually groaned as the man he pressed into the bench reached down and squeezed. The woman tugged on his hair hard as she leaned in for a kiss. He mentally shrugged, his body growing hyper aware of every little sensation. He could always kill them after the sex after all.
But something was wrong, the throbbing turning into a scream of guitars. He tasted blood and threw himself back from the hands. A moment, and they weren't what he had seen before, the people stopping and moving in like B-grade random villains. The couple he was with produced baseball bats from the air and hit him. Hard.
...then the lights blinked out Takegami opened his eyes. The ceiling was industrial tiling set in aluminum tracks that no doubt covered an extensive ventilation system. In opposite corners sprinklers hung down well out of the way of the recording camera. There was also a standard one-way mirror opposite of him, the low blue tinted lighting in the room making it hard to see if anyone was there.
He doubted it. For one, they had left him in this room after running him through several check points. They took his fingerprints, they tried to get him to submit a DNA test, they searched him three times, and then finally he was shoved into this chair and told to wait for questioning. How typical.
Glancing at the officer in the room with him, he calculated how easy it would be to kill him before he could even use the baton on his belt. But if he did that, he would definitely be hung and without any way to wiggle out an revenge. Escape required some more thought.
Drumming his finger against the table, he planned. Of course, that was when the door was pushed open and the two detectives launched themselves at him.
Takegami from a club to the police station
He didn't remember where he was. The air throbbed with sounds and lights, hot, sweating bodies pressing together and grinding along with the pulsing drums. Smoke and alcohol, silks and leathers, sweat and perfumes, his senses were going on overload and he didn't care. There was a body under him, a wet mouth and hot tongue tangling with his, and sharp nails scraping across his scalp and down his neck. He jerked his head back, gulping at the humid air and slender fingers slipped between his lips, sliding something bitter onto his tongue.
Takegami glanced at the woman, lips parted and his tongue feeling numb. The numbness spread into a tingling sensation and he actually groaned as the man he pressed into the bench reached down and squeezed. The woman tugged on his hair hard as she leaned in for a kiss. He mentally shrugged, his body growing hyper aware of every little sensation. He could always kill them after the sex after all.
But something was wrong, the throbbing turning into a scream of guitars. He tasted blood and threw himself back from the hands. A moment, and they weren't what he had seen before, the people stopping and moving in like B-grade random villains. The couple he was with produced baseball bats from the air and hit him. Hard.
...then the lights blinked out
Takegami opened his eyes. The ceiling was industrial tiling set in aluminum tracks that no doubt covered an extensive ventilation system. In opposite corners sprinklers hung down well out of the way of the recording camera. There was also a standard one-way mirror opposite of him, the low blue tinted lighting in the room making it hard to see if anyone was there.
He doubted it. For one, they had left him in this room after running him through several check points. They took his fingerprints, they tried to get him to submit a DNA test, they searched him three times, and then finally he was shoved into this chair and told to wait for questioning. How typical.
Glancing at the officer in the room with him, he calculated how easy it would be to kill him before he could even use the baton on his belt. But if he did that, he would definitely be hung and without any way to wiggle out an revenge. Escape required some more thought.
Drumming his finger against the table, he planned. Of course, that was when the door was pushed open and the two detectives launched themselves at him.