Preludes.docx

Title: VF Drabbles: Preludes
Character: Asami
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Warnings: This Asami is a bit harsher than the Asami's I've been writing lately. And I missed him. ;)

He sat on his throne and watched night fall over the city. His city. His empire.

Every dark building, every lit street. Every breathing person. All his. He could make them do what he wanted. Make them into what he wanted. He held the strings, made them dance.

He was the root of power in Tokyo, and so all of Japan was his kingdom, whether he wanted it or not.

He didn't particularly.

He kept it, of course. What fool would turn away from power? But it wasn't particularly interesting. Not any longer. Because it was already his.

It was the gaining of control that fascinated him.

The seduction.

Pushing a little farther than they're willing to go.

Making them a part of their own fall into sin.

Making them, in the end, spread their legs freely for what followed.

A small red glow reflected in the black window as he drew on his cigarette. A blemish on the night. Then it disappeared, leaving him once again cloaked in darkness as he exhaled.

He liked the smooth perfection of the window. Flat. Black. Reflecting only what he wished. Reflecting nothing but shadow.

But, he admitted honestly to himself, the blemishes were the things he looked forward to, simply because he would have a chance to once more play the game. Smoothing things out. Leveling anything that sought to stand against him.

His phone beeped.

"The car is here, Asami-sama."

He hung up without acknowledgement and sat for a moment longer. Then he reached out a long elegant arm and crushed the small red light in his hand against the ashes. He stood, and in the darkness silently walked across thick carpet to the table that had been set up behind his desk.

He gazed down, then brushed the back of his fingers lightly along the strips of leather lying there, a small thrill racing through him. He took in the scent of it, then raised his head as if seeking another. It was time. He pivoted and walked toward the door, hesitating a second before stepping through and closing it. He could have sworn he saw something glowing in the window.

Title: VF drabble: Prelude 2
Rating: R (violence)
Spoilers: VF 1
Warning: Yakuza violence

Notes: This takes place before Prelude, but because I'm weird, should be read after.

More birthday wishes for Christine!





The glass from the solution bottles crunched under his feet as he walked toward the photographer, who lay curled on the floor, sobbing and pleading for mercy. The odors from the chemicals wafted upwards, leaving a sickening haze hanging over the room. It didn't sicken him as much as the display on the floor below him.

"You knew who I was. And yet you intruded on my life with your cameras."

He looked at the film hanging in strips about the former dark room, all of it now worthless, like the man on his knees below him.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know who you were. It was just an assignment. I'm sorry. Please don't hurt me."

He stared at the worm wriggling on the floor. How boring. Like so many men, spineless.

"I really dislike men without backbones. Your body should reflect that." He nodded to Akira. The huge blond picked the photographer up, and with an audible crack, broke the man's back across his thigh. The man's scream faded to a whimper, then he passed out. He was dropped to the floor. The two men standing over him no longer noticed him, just another piece of refuse on the carpet.

"Have you checked his computer for any images?"

"Yes, Asami-sama, Saburo-san is doing so now. It appears that he sent one, to another photographer named Takaba Akihito."

He sighed. Another boring puppy to teach a lesson. "Do we know anything about this one?"

"No sir, but we will."

"Have a file on my desk in the morning. Are you certain that no details of tonight's meeting were transmitted?"

His other bodyguard stepped into the room. "There is nothing in the emails about it Asami-sama. That doesn't guarantee that they didn't speak by phone."

He craved a cigarette, but the chemicals in the air made it too dangerous for an open flame. "Post some extra men around the site. Perhaps we'll catch this rat without having to chase him."

He glanced around, ignoring the body on the floor. "I think we're done here."

The three stepped over the unconscious man, and walked out into the hall. "Akira, do you have a match? I need a cigarette."

Saburo glanced at him. "Do you need fluid for your lighter, boss?"

Akira grinned and gave a matchbook to his master. "No, he doesn't."

Asami lifted his cigarette to his lips, then struck the match against the strip on the cover. It flared to life with a hiss, and he held it to the end of his cigarette, sucking the flame back into the tobacco and down into his lungs. Ah, that tasted good. He tossed the burning match through the open door, cocking his head to hear the whoosh as the chemicals combusted.

He turned and strolled down the hall to the front door. "I don’t know why he's screaming. With that back he shouldn't be feeling a thing."

The guards laughed as they made their way from the burning home to the limo. Asami-sama had such a sense of humor.


--


He brushed through the photos, spreading them across the mahogany desk. The boy was beautiful. His eyes were wild, proud, laughing. It piqued his interest.

"Takaba Akihito? A young promising free-lance photographer, hmm? He has a good eye, but if he comes after me he'll regret it."

He glanced up at Akira. "Why don't you bring Takaba-san here for a short visit? I'll explain why what he's doing is a bad idea. And maybe see if we can't find out how he knows where our business meetings are going to be."

Akira bowed with a smirk and left.

Asami sat back down at his desk and picked up one of the photos and stared a bit longer. Would that pride last? Or would he wilt as quickly as all the other mice around him? His eyes ran down the slim body. No, this was just a kid. A little roughing up and he'd be scared into talking. Same as the rest. No challenge. He tossed the photo back onto the mahogany and went back to his laptop. He'd have to get his rush elsewhere.


--


Angry eyes glared up at him. He didn't even pay attention to what was being said. He just mouthed the same old threatening dialogue. And watched those eyes.

He'd expected to see fear by now. There had been a little, but it was quickly replaced with defiance, insolence even. He felt his heartbeat quickening.

He leaned over him, cigarette in one hand, trying to feel his heat, trying to catch his scent. The eyes considering him narrowed. How far could he push, how long would the rebellion last? His cock began hardening at the thought.

The boy said something smart and Saburo kneed him in the stomach. Asami stepped back to see how this would be taken, and couldn't resist some condescending words. "Bad things happen to naughty boys. If you're going to go around sticking your nose in other people's business, you really should watch out for yourself more."

Would he crumple now?

The boy's eyes were scornful. "I already know that."

He dared? Asami wanted to plunge into that naughty mouth. But Takaba struck like lightning, kicking Saburo aside, darting for the door, heading for the roof.

Asami's elation was growing. This was just too much fun. But his little bird would be caught. There was no way off the roof except to fly, and even this one wouldn't dare that.

He climbed the stairs in anticipation. He hadn't been taken by surprise in a long time. He couldn't wait to see what else the boy had in store for him.

He strolled across the roof, toward where Takaba stood by the rail at the edge. Perhaps he could provoke him into more entertainment. "Caught like a rat. You have nowhere to run now."

To his surprise, the boy smiled. "I've been in worse situations than being chased by a bunch of old yakuza."

Old? Who was he calling old? The notion stopped him in his tracks for a moment, and as he paused, Takaba vaulted over the railing into space. He'd rather die than face his punishment? Asami raced forward to the edge, expecting to see a broken body on the streets below. Instead, Takaba hung off the Sion sign and stuck his tongue out.

Asami began laughing. He'd read this one wrong from the beginning. This one was different. This one was special. This one was his.

He'd collar and leash him and mark him, not outside but deep within, so deep that Takaba would think that it was his own idea all along.

The boy never stopped to think. He didn't recognize what he'd seen in his viewfinder as a cage. And by the time the door slammed shut and locked, it would be too late for Takaba Akihito. He quivered in excitement, becoming lost in the plans he had for his new possession.

As he walked back across the roof to descend into the bowels of Sion, a stray breeze caught his hair, as if tugging it for attention. He paid it no mind, and stepped unknowing into the cage of his own making.




~end~