Akira

The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here.

Well, that’s only half the truth. I know why I’m here, and who brought me here, if the familiar faces of ‘Portly’ Ken’s henchmen were anything to go by. How they got the jump on me though? Now that’s the million dollar question.

Portly Ken isn’t anywhere I can see, and considering how this warehouse is just one giant cube, my guess is that he hasn’t arrived yet. Figures. He’s always making his men do the dirty work. They’ve tied me to a chair… actually, scratch that. The hard smooth surface seeping bitter cold through my pants and the worryingly empty hole in the middle can only be the porcelain of a toilet bowl. Gross, they’ve tied me to an old toilet.

They took my shoes too. My feet are numb against the concrete floor of the warehouse. All this seems to have put the hench-idiots at ease that I won’t escape. They’ve barely glanced my way since I woke. A few are half heartedly keeping guard while a group of them play cards on an old wooden crate, plumes of smoke curling out of their cheap cigarettes. One of them just wins a pot of the prize and is eagerly scooping cash into his grubby little arms when the screeching sound of a car skidding to a halt sounds outside.

Immediately, the hench-idiots scramble to attention, the ones playing cards hurriedly stuffing the cards and cash into their pockets and kicking the crate away to a dusty corner. I can’t help the small ‘ha.’ of petty amusement that escapes me. Lucky for me, none of them notice.

The large, sliding doors of the warehouse slams open, revealing the ugly form of Portly Ken and his loyal bodyguard, Cade Lott looming over him like a tiger, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. I’ve noticed it before of course, but the stark difference between the two was… certainly something.

Here’s a quick little introduction to who we’re messing with. Portly Ken- Real name: Kenji Takinaka- is the biggest tech mogul this side of the Mississippi. He’s rich, and he’s smart; but that’s the only good thing going for him. His old face is round like a pug’s and wrinkled like a pre-ironed shirt. His body looks like someone took a regular human and used the distortion tool to squash him down to a short, four feet eleven inches in height. His short and thinning hair is spiked up to a point, making his head look like a chestnut. He’s known for his fiery temper and the tantrums that follow it. The worst part? He’s my uncle.

Of course, he never leaves the house without his loyal dog, Cade, by his side. Cade Lott is ex-military, though no one I’ve talked to knows for sure which military exactly. He’s a good two heads taller than Ken and a good head taller than most anyone else. With his height, his impressive set of muscles, and a mysterious background no one quite has the full story of, he’s for sure an intimidating sight to behold. Even I’m not sure when Cade came into my uncle’s employment. He looks no older than thirty, but he’d already been playing my uncle’s shadow when I came into his guardianship at sixteen. Despite him exuding the most ‘i can rip your throat out’ energy I’ve seen on a person, the man has a handsome face framed by shaggy blond hair and soul piercing steel grey eyes.

Those same soul piercing eyes lock onto mine as he and my uncle make their way over to me.

“Akira! Nice of you to make an appearance. I’ve been worried about you.” Ken says as he stomps over. His arms are spread wide like he’s going in for a hug. Instead, as he stops in front of me, he closes his hands together in a loud clap. “Have my men treated you well? If you’d just come home when I’d asked, none of this would have been necessary.”

This last part was in Japanese. Over the fifty-five years Ken has lived in America, his Japanese had eroded somewhat. His accent had taken on a western tinge, and he slurred the more complex words together, like he’s afraid of messing them up so he just pushes them out of his mouth as fast as he can.

“If I’d come home, you would have just killed me.” I responded.

Ken’s grin widened. He leaned forward as if to inspect my wounds. I had to try my best to pull away. His breath stunk of cigarettes and booze. “True, but at least it would have been painless.”

Painless. Ha. That’s hilarious.

I would have been given to the dogs.

Without thinking, I spit in his face.

Ken’s grin faded in an instant as his face turned a burning red color. His chubby arm swung and there was an explosion of pain from my left cheek as the back of his hand made contact with it. The toilet I was tied to wasn’t bolted to the ground, and the impact had me falling sideways. There was another burst of pain from my leg as it was crushed under the rounded toilet bowl.

My scream was drowned out under the hench-idiots laughter. Tears welled in my eyes and I took sharp breaths as I tried to block the agony from my mind. Head bent against the cool concrete floor, I can only assume the sudden stop in laughter was my uncle shushing them with a wave of his hand.

“Cade, go pick the little twerp up.” I hear my uncle command. I concentrate on taking one breath at a time. Footsteps come closer to me and I feel large hands pull me back up into a sitting position.

My hands tied behind my back scramble desperately for purchase on something. Anything. suddenly, I feel something cool and sharp pressed into my palm. Instinctively, I close my hand around it. My thumb scrapes along a thin edge and a soft hiss escapes me as I feel a sharp sting as the edge splits my thumb open. It’s a knife. How…?

As soon as I feel myself settle back to a sitting position, Cade steps out from behind me. He doesn’t look at me once as he makes his way back to Portly Ken’s side. I realize in shock that he had just handed me a small knife.

What’s his game? I look at my uncle’s face. He seems none the wiser to the small exchange. Glancing around, I see that none of the henchmen seem to have noticed either. They were all still snickering at my abuse or were watching Cade stand by my uncle’s side with barely concealed jealousy.

“Honestly, Akira. You make this too hard on yourself.” Ken tutted disapprovingly. “Why do you insist on making me hurt you more? You’re just like your parents. The moment they became useless, they insisted on causing me trouble after trouble. Of course, I didn’t give them the same mercy I’m giving you.”

Through blood soaked bangs, I glare daggers at him. “F… Fuck off.” I stutter out. It hurts to talk.

He lets out a disappointed sigh before reaching into the inner lining of his fur jacket. From there, he pulls out a gold lined revolver.

“This beauty here,” Ken says, opening the cylinder and examining each bullet in the chamber carefully. “This was the very first gun I bought, back when I was starting my empire.” He explains. “I got it custom made using a New Nambu M60 revolver. It’s very special to me.” Closing the cylinder, Ken’s eyes snap to mine. “Which is precisely why I only ever use it on important occasions.”

While he talks, I start using the knife as subtly as I can, cutting the rope binding me thread by thread. I keep my eyes trained on him, hoping he’s too self indulged in his monologue to notice. Cade hasn’t moved an inch, eyes still trained on me like a hawk. It gives me an uneasy feeling, like I’m being tested somehow. I still don’t understand why he’d hand me something so useful as a knife. Was he hoping I’d try and escape so he could have an excuse to kill me himself?

That theory flies out the window when Portly Ken turns and places his revolver in Cade’s hands.

“Alas, I’m actually not one to do something so crass as kill with my own hands.” Portly Ken says, sounding like he was apologizing for being rude. “So I’ll just leave that part to Cade, yeah?”

He pats Cade’s shoulder, and like a button pressed, the man finally moves. He grips the revolver, clicks the hammer down, and aims it straight between my eyes. My heart nearly stops.

“Don’t shoot just yet, lad. I don’t want to see the blood.” Portly Ken orders. He snaps his fingers above his head and the rest of the henchmen take the hint and begin to leave through the warehouse doors. I only catch their movement from the corner of my eye, my main focus being the barrel pointed at my head.

As the last of the henchmen to leave take stance at the door and begin to slide it shut, leaving a small opening for Portly Ken to follow. My eyes dart back and forth between Ken, his back turned to me, and Cade, eyes cold and emotionless as he aims the revolver at me.

“Goodbye, Nephew. I do hope this death is quick and painless for you!” Portly Ken calls over his shoulder. He steps out of the warehouse and the door begins to shut behind him. Real panic sets in. Desperately, I rip the knife the rest of the way through the ropes. I won’t go down without a fight.

Portly Ken can be heard, barking orders at his men. Just when the door is ajar, I jump up from the toilet seat about to make a last ditch effort to dodge the gun and somehow escape. I don’t even manage to take a step when Cade suddenly turns the revolver from me and aims it at the warehouse entrance, straight at the back Portly Ken’s head.

No one has time to react before he pulls the trigger and with a loud ‘bang!’’ and impressive accuracy, a 0.38 mm bullet fires into Portly Ken’s skull. The tech mogul crumbles to the floor like a rag doll.

There’s a round of shocked silence before it’s broken by a disbelieving, “… what?” from single henchmen. All of us are standing there, still in shock when I feel Cade’s familiar large hands gripping my arm.

His worried face is twisted in urgency and determination as he says,

“Run!”

I run.