Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Lies, Crimes, and Punishments ❯ Games ( Chapter 10 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

On the ride back to the station, his eyes were on me. They never wandered, never looked out the window. Always fixed on the rearview mirror. Whenever I'd look up, his eyes were there, sifting through my thoughts and my intentions. It was eerie, I could feel him flipping through my brain like a card catalog, picking out what I felt for Koushiro.
How I felt when I saw him on top of what should rightfully be mine.
What I wished was mine. What I wanted to pluck away and protect from scum like this.
Mine.
I clenched my jaw, coming close to pulling the squad into an alley, pulling him out of the back and kicking his ass.
This filth, in my backseat. I had so many questions that needed to be answered. But how could I ask them?
'Are you together? Does he love you? Do you FUCK him?!'
My knuckles were white on the steering wheel as I drove into the police station.
When I pulled him out of the car by the back of his jacket, he was smirking. Just like he had back at St. Barnard's. I was beginning to think he was either the smartest man on the planet, or the most insane.

Was I insane? I was sitting, hands cuffed behind my back in the light blue room, waiting to be fingerprinted and processed. Letting it all sink in. After all the things I've done... I let myself get arrested for assault. No, I forced myself to be arrested. Stupid Ken. They'd never pin the murder to me, and that was final. I'd let them keep me for the 48 hours until the hearing, and however long they wished to incarcerate me - only a first offender! - until I was back out and with Izzy.
Stupid louts. I watched the policemen with their fine haircuts talk about me. That stupid detective with the fake blond dye job.
His rage had given him away, and I knew he was after my Koushiro. More reasons to be wary around this one.

Shinseki strode over to Ken, all comfortable confidence. He was in his house now, and he would not let his smirks and sly eyes unnerve him like they had in the church.
"Have we calmed down now?" Shinseki let a smirk of his own dance across his mouth.
"Quite. I'm perfectly ready to plead no contest to your charges and settle down in a nice comfortable cell for the night."
"The night? Is that all you think you're getting?" Oh, the ball was so in his court now. "I hate to disappoint, but the penalty for assaulting a police officer - even if unarmed - is much more than one night." He watched the smile fade from Ken's face. "And trust me, by the time I'm done picking through every last one of your skeletons, you'll be begging pathetically for mercy. With Justice, there is no mercy." He leaned in close to Ken's face. "There's more to you, I'm sure of it, and I'm not going to stop until I know more about you than God himself."
Icy chills raced down Ken's spine. It was close, close to remorse for everything he'd accomplished in the past few weeks. He had overestimated Abe, and now the cold realization that he was handcuffed and at his mercy was very unsettling.

Hesitantly now, Ken let himself be fingerprinted and mugshot. With nothing further incriminating to be found on his person, he let himself be led into the holding cell. Five other miscreants gazed steadily at the newcomer, pushing the breath out of Ken's lungs. This night would not be pleasant.

And indeed it was not. Ken had spent long nights with strangers before, but it was usually in a blissful narcotic stupor. This was anything but, his eyes wide awake for most of the night, watching the other prisoners warily or unable to close them listening to the jackhammer of snores chorusing off the stark walls.
He'd drifted off once, only to dream fitfully and wake when a sweat-and-dirt crusted hand brushed over the zipper on his pants. He jerked into full consciousness and grabbed the face of the man tenuously assaulting him, propelling him with force into the brick wall they rested against.
The man retreated into one corner, no more warnings needed.
But Ken counted two other sets of eyes watching the events with disturbing interest. He didn't dare shut his eyes again.

Morning came and along with it an unappetizing dish of soupy oatmeal. There was a cup of coffee beside it, but it was so watered down it wasn't even fit to call coffee.
The meal did nothing for Ken's spirits. With each spoonful, he kept reminding himself that he'd been acquainted with real danger before this. This wasn't real danger. He was simply nervous and on edge, watching his back as he ate.
When one officer called his name and motioned for Ken to follow, he noticed he complied with the order with a sick bit of relief.

The officer handcuffed him and walked him up four flights of stairs and into an office area. There were several secretaries buzzing around, wafting papers from fax machines to desks and back again. The area was abuzz with ringing phones and activity. The man who led him guided him into one of the six or seven rooms that branched off this central hive.
He glanced quickly at the door the officer was knocking on, recognizing the name immediately: Lt Det. Abe.

A muffled voice bade them enter and the officer plopped Ken down in a chair opposite the blonde detective. One of Ken's wrists was uncuffed and the free cuff connected to the chair arm. Abe motioned with his hand for the officer to leave, not taking his eyes off the paperwork in front of him.
The detective absently stirred the coffee on his desk. Ken had no way of knowing: one cream, one sugar; but he did know from the aroma its quality far surpassed the sludge he'd just sucked down. Another reason to hate him.

Ken and Shinseki sat for several minutes in deathly silence. The indigo-haired man was not about to cede the upper hand and open his mouth first.
The wall clock ticked the seconds by loudly, each 'tick' seeming in rhythm with the pulse that beat at Ken's temple.
The swizzle stick stirring against the bottom of the polystyrene cup went scritch, scritch, scritch.
Abe still focused on the paperwork, scratching notes lightly with his pencil. He seemed completely content to let Ken sit there for eternity.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Strich.
Strich.
Strich.

"Good morning, Detective. Are we just going to sit here all day or do you actually have something to talk to me about?" Abe did not look up at Ken's remark, ignoring with perfect precision.
Ken counted another 30 ticks/striches. He had to say something.
"That's fine with me. I can be a patient boy." He shrugged into the chair, getting comfortable, gracefully crossing one leg over the other. He would not let this half-witted insect crawl under his skin. He angled his face in a haughty, regal posture. Would not let this fake little blonde get to him.

Abe didn't look up once. Not even out of the corner of his eye. He kept himself fully engrossed in the shuffled papers on his desk.
Try as he might, Ken couldn't keep himself from drumming his fingers on the chair arm. He started tapping his toes inside his shoe. Started counting the number of thumbtacks on the wall behind the desk.
Started picking at the hangnails on his fingers. God...

"Seriously, was there a purpose bringing me here, or are you just going to sit self-righteously behind your desk all day?" Nothing. The only thing Abe did was pluck his coffee cup from the surface of the desk and take a long, languid sip.
"You know, you're one of the most transparent people I've ever met." Ken narrowed his eyes when Shinseki pointedly continued to ignore him. "I bet you think this tactic of ignoring me is going to make me reveal something condemning. I bet you think you're fucking genius." Ken smirked. "If you think you can outmaneuver me, you are sadly mistaken."
It was Abe's turn to smirk. 'You smug little bastard.'
"No, Mr Ichijouji, I think you'll find that the most transparent person in the room is the one sitting handcuffed to a chair. I'm pretty sure I've got you completely figured out." He raised his eyes from his desk, locking verdant, critical eyes on Ken. "Men are moved by two forces only - fear and self interest. Yours is obviously not fear." Ken smirked.
"Napoleon. How quaint." He recrossed his legs. "What you forget is you're using rational thought. Rational thought is interpretation according to a scheme which we cannot escape. Since when are criminals rational, their motives sequestered into two neat little boxes? You obviously are no sage profiler."
It was Abe's turn to smirk.
"Nietzsche. Duly quaint." He leaned back in his chair, bringing his hands together and to his face, affecting the pose of a scholar. "I have great respect for Friedrich. After all, he probed the depths of good, evil, punishment, morality. Nietzsche also had no respect for religion and the personality of the society which breeds dependency to it. Many times he rallied for independent thinking men to cast off the burden of the cross and evolve. And yet here we are, over a century since 'Genealogy of Morals' was written, and we still stream rank and file into church every Sunday." That got Ken's eyes to roll. "Thoughts, Mr Ichijouji? Am I treading with heresy on your beliefs?"
Ken didn't know what he was playing at, but he wasn't about to join the game.
"I really don't care one way or another, Detective. All I know is you are no shrink and you fail doubly as a philosopher. Nietzsche was also a sexist and racist asshole, I hope you didn't overlook those qualities." Shinseki had to find a way to get a reaction from him. Even if it meant going a little overboard...

"Do you know what my favorite part of the Bible is? Hmm?" His crisply superior demeanor grated on Ken's nerves. Abe sat up in his chair and reached into one of his desk drawers, pulling out a copy of the King James Version. His quick fingers opened to where a red ribbon bookmark neatly laid. "My favorite verse is in Ezekiel, chapter 7 to be specific." His verdant eyes lidded as he read.
"Make a chain: for the land is full of bloody crimes, and the city is full of violence. Wherefore I will bring the worst of the heathen, and they shall possess their houses: I will also make the pomp of the strong to cease; and their holy places shall be defiled."

He reached down to turn a page but instead grasped it between his fingers and slowly tore it from the spine. An electric light danced through his eyes when they locked with Ken's. As if he were taking a strange intoxicating pleasure from tearing the gilded paper.
He reached down and tore another, then another, until he'd taken out nearly an entire book. Then Shinseki calmly reached into his pants pocket, produced a lighter, and set the pile of torn pages aflame.
He unceremoniously dumped the burning mass into his wastebasket and turned glowing eyes on Ken. The indigo haired man swallowed visibly not at the display, but rather at the mania lighting his eyes. Was he cracked?
"Any objections, Mr Ichijouji?" His gaze was level, piercingly so.
"None. Why?" Ken's eyes did not flinch from his stare.
The fire exhausted its fuel and died out. Abe picked up his phone, murmured something to a secretary, presumably, and resumed his tedious paperwork. Less than a minute later, the same officer who'd led Ken here returned, uncuffed the chair, recuffed Ken's free wrist and started to lead him from the room. "Don't think we're done, Ken." Abe spoke without looking up. "I'll be seeing more of you tomorrow."
He didn't save a glance back, intrigued by the Detective but utterly glad to go back to the holding cell. At least there he could meet his enemies with his fists. Here, the enemies were enigmatic, difficult to strike, and required well-thought tactics.

Once the door was shut behind the officer and Ken, Abe glanced up, a victorious smile on his face.
"No profiler, eh? You're certainly male, certainly intelligent, and didn't bat an eye at my display of religious irreverence. Perhaps tomorrow we'll test your interest in violence."

Check.

That night was no cakewalk for Ken. He had slept maybe 30 minutes the night before, and his eyelids were heavy. The other prisoners were not paying much attention to him, and he felt oddly safe. It may have been a few minutes, or perhaps a few hours, but it seemed like an instant to Ken. His eyes popped open as he was jerked up by his shoulders, two rough hands pulling him to a standing position, one covering his mouth and another pulling up on his hair. A half-second of confusion washed through him, trying to remember where he was. Then it was all panic as his location and situation became evident. Two men, the same two watching him last night, had taken him by surprise and were pressing his back into the concrete wall.
The one holding on to his hair and his mouth was a few inches shorter than Ken, and about 15 pounds heavier, all of it muscle.
The one holding on to his shoulders, now sliding down to grip his arms, was a good 6 inches taller and easily 200 pounds.
This bigger one had a few cracked teeth in his smile, which he now showed with sickening delight to Ken.
"Aren't you a pretty thing? We're going to have a lot of fun with you." The shorter one snickered at this. Ken's veins coursed with terror. "Tonight, we're just going to get acquainted." One hand left Ken's bruising bicep and turned into a fist, connecting with the force of the man's weight into his unprotected stomach.
As much as he wanted to, he didn't whimper at the blunt impact. The man laughed arrogantly anyway, leaned back, and punched him again.
It was a blur of pain, the bigger man finding slightly different areas of his abdomen to punish. But it was all the same general area and the agony grew with each blow. His arms were pressed into the concrete - there was no way to move, much less struggle.

More hits and Ken was suddenly fighting back bile, the acute ache in his stomach growing and spreading to his legs, his knees, his chest...
The man paused for a minute and his smaller companion took the opportunity to gracefully lick the side of Ken's face, using more tongue than was necessary to make his point.
"Shu and I want to get to get to know you. We want you get to know us. We want you to understand that we plan on spending every possible second beating the shit out of you." The smaller one, Shu, chuckled lightly at this. "We want you to come to expect it, the pain, and when you get to the point where you understand that we will beat you, and there's nothing you can do to change it, then you're going to suck us off. You're going to do it nice and slow with that lovely mouth of yours. And you're going to enjoy it. Because sucking us off means no more beatings. Do you understand?" The sick smile on the man's face grew as he outlined their plan. Ken's heart raced faster and faster until he was sure it was beating out of his chest.
The man punctuated his point with his other fist now, unused and fresh, landing blow after blow onto Ken's stressed ribs.
When he was good and out of breath, he and the smaller man, Shu, released him and let him fall to the floor.
Ken promptly vomited the few contents of his stomach onto the floor, what may have been tears mixing with the excrement.
Both men standing over him chuckled and walked off to their own corner, their effort for the night at an end and sleep beckoning them.
Despite the edges of pride still lingering on the horizon of Ken's mind, he didn't bother to stand. He simply scooted back against the wall, curled up into a ball, and tried to fall asleep.
It was only when the rising light began painting the walls a faint gray that sleep finally caught him.

That night was much different for Koushiro. The sacristy was cleaned, candles lit at various shrines, confessions taken, indulgences given.
Izzy was even less comfortable giving out indulgences now that he had committed such blatant mortal sin. Sin viewed by the local priesthood.
Lying with a man.

And yet neither Achikawa or Isoroku mentioned it. It was as if Ken's obvious lie had woven its way into truth, and they believed he had merely been attacked by the raven-haired psychopath.
Perhaps it was just as well. Ken had no pretense of chastity to uphold.
But deep down, Izzy was ashamed beyond words.

And yet he pushed ahead, absolving the townspeople of their sins while he felt his may as well be emblazoned on his head like a brand.
Homosexual. Fornicator.

And how he had taken in the man, nearly forgiven him, he who was most likely responsible for the brutal murder of Hiromiya.
Hiromiya.

He mulled the name over in his mind as Achikawa approached him. He suddenly realized he never knew the man's first name. They were close professionally, but there was a sanctity and reverence that remained unspoken - that kept him from thinking to ask for his given name.
"Father? Would you mind going to the confession? There's someone waiting inside." Some strange sense of privacy kept the priest who greeted patrons from also accepting their confessed sins. Izzy marched dutifully to the box as requested, entered, shut the door, and took a deep breath. Easy does it.
"Bless me father, for I have sinned."
"In the name of the father, the son, and the holy ghost. What sins have you committed, my child?"
"I..." An expected pause came from the other side. "I have sinned. I have sinned in my own head." Izzy successfully but barely, suppressed a yawn.
"Thoughts are not sins, my child. Actions are. Did you act on your thoughts?"
"No... No, but I would very much like to." The unrepentant man turned in his box, reaching slender fingers through the holes in the screen. This got Izzy's attention. "Koushiro - I would very much like to."
Izzy's charcoal eyes flew open. What the hell?
He could see blonde hair through the screen and finally found a face for the voice.
"Detective?" It came out choked, a bit of a squeak.
"Koushiro, I've been doing nothing but thinking of you ever since we first met. It's like a thick fog has entered my brain. All I can think about is you. God, I know it's wrong, but I can't help it. And then that one morning..." His breath came in shallow gulps, remembering the feel of his skin on his fingertips. The brief taste of him on his lips. "Please tell me I'm wrong, I'm sick, I've imagined too much."
Izzy strained to swallow the lump growing in his throat. It wasn't as if he didn't desire the blonde man - but there was so much at stake. How much longer could he continue to indulge in sin while Achikawa and Isoroku remained oblivious? It wasn't as if the scene in the attic was bad enough... And then there was Ken! Was he rotting away in jail right now? Maybe he deserved to rot. Maybe this was the best thing for both of them.
Still, there was Abe... Delicious man with the probing green eyes and the body muscled in just the right way... Suddenly his own body was filled with nervous tension.
"Have I imagined too much? Please say something to me, Koushiro-kun." He dropped his voice an octave into a sultry, husky tremor as his said his name. It was enough to run chills over Izzy's skin and blood to his groin. Suddenly his mouth was very dry as he tried desperately to respond.
"... Abe-sama, you have been imagining too much. Thoughts of his nature are not sins, but they are never good and certainly not healthy." He rubbed his hands together, desperate to busy them with something other than the urge to touch the fingers stretched through the screen. "I don't think I am the best person to... assist you with your confession. I feel... I should find another one of the priests, someone who... who..."
"Who isn't stumbling over his words with lust?" The quick words licked over his ears, predatory. Even if conscious-Izzy didn't realize, sub-conscious-Izzy instantly saw the arrogant manner Shinseki was displaying and how much he was acting like Ken. Izzy's body knew as well. He was rapidly growing hard.
"No, no, that's not what I meant!"
"But it's what you feel. Please don't patronize me. I can read the thoughts that are bleeding into your voice. I know right now you're tempting yourself with the idea of sucking on my fingers." He chuckled darkly. "Why don't you just act on that urge?"
Izzy bit his lip - god, how was he so right? He was thinking of merely stroking his fingers with his own, but the new idea of wrapping his lips around them was much better.
God...
He gritted his teeth in frustration. The impulsive side won out.
Koushiro brought his lips to Shinseki's fingertips, brushing them gently. He heard the other man inhale in surprise. Was he not expecting him to make good on his teases?
He parted his lips just slightly, rubbing the wet inside surface like a whisper over his nails.
One of the disembodied thumbs ran over Koushiro's jawline, encouraging. Izzy darted out his tongue, playing like a shadow on the very tips. Flicking out and in, molecules of moisture on Shinseki's skin.
"...Please..." The blonde whispered it out in a needful gasp. Koushiro's face was close enough to the screen that he could see plainly through the holes. Abe's head was tilted back against the far wall, his mouth parted, small pants escaping. Those brilliant green eyes were tightly shut. His free hand wandered down to the apparent bulge in his trousers, massaging it gently. He simply exuded debauchery.
Koushiro could not keep the evil thoughts from his head. He opened his mouth and took two of the offered fingers into his warm mouth in one quick motion. Shinseki granted him a moan for his efforts and Izzy sucked with electric force.
They were both lost in the moment and did not hear Achikawa approaching.
The confession was too long, the moan too loud. The door sprang open and Izzy was greeted by wide eyes that could not mistake the scene displayed.

Father Achikawa brought his hand to his mouth, stifling a gasp that bordered on a scream.
"What? ...What are you doing?!"
Izzy had no words, only a deep blush that painted his shame like blood on his cheeks.
"Unforgivable... I thought I had misunderstood what happened in the attic two days ago. How could I have been so naive?" The father's eyes narrowed dangerously. There was no escaping his punishing stare.
It was probably only 15 seconds of painful silence, but to Izzy it felt much longer. His sins were sliced wide open for all to see. There was no explaining to be done. His tenure in this, his third family, was at an end and he knew it.
"Get out - get out and don't ever think about coming back!!"

Izzy bolted out into the snow, all was a blur as he walked aimlessly down the block, embarrassed tears running down his face.
Shinseki caught up to him, running after him as the snow fell.
"Koushiro! God, Koushiro, I am so sorry! You have no idea!" He was hastily pulling his coat on as he jogged to catch up. Izzy didn't want to think that he was following him. He just wanted to be alone, have the icy snow slap his face in penance.
He wanted to jump off that bridge again - wanted to fall slowly through the air - wanted to hit the water like concrete and cease to exist.
Why hadn't he before when he'd had the chance? Why didn't he slap away Shinseki's protective arms and let gravity do its job?!
"Koushiro - please listen to me..." The blonde had reached him, placing his hands around Izzy's elbows and drawing him backwards into a half-embrace. "I didn't want that to happen. I didn't plan on that happening. I came there to seduce you, not get you thrown out!"
Izzy shut his eyes, squeezing rivulets of tears out of his eyes and down his burning cheeks. He was absolutely worthless - garbage and refuse. It was his fault and not the detective's...

"This is my fault - I should never have... done what I did. I've been rightfully discarded in the eyes of the Church and of God." He took a shaking breath. "I'm supposed to be set-apart, but here I am, returning to and becoming the filth I can never escape!" His voice left him, body giving out and leaning into the tempter's arms.
"You're not filth, Koushiro. You're human, and I should never have been so forward." He was so grateful to have the beautiful redhead near him, taking the opportunity to move his hands from his arms and wrap them around his chest instead. Easy does it - no need to scare him away now. "This is simply my fault, not yours. But let me say what I feel for you is not filth. I should've... I should've been more respectful of your position and listened when you said no." Koushiro jerked his head around, trying to make eye contact while being held so close.
"I DIDN'T say no - that's the problem!" Fresh tears sprang. "I can't say no - not to you, not to Ken, not to..." He couldn't do it, he couldn't say it... Abe let the unspoken words hang in the air. He could feel the pain radiating from Koushiro's body. He himself was briefly gripped with jealousy at Izzy's admission of a relationship with Ken and... others? 'I'm going to make that criminal's life absolute hell.' But he didn't let it bleed into his muscles or into his voice.
"I'm not going to push, Koushiro. I don't want you to imply a yes simply because you can't say no." The green eyed man let out a long and deliberate sigh. "You deserve to make decisions by yourself, not because of outside pressure or because of", he used his fingers to make slight quotes in the sarcastic air, "divine pressure. Stop worrying about disappointing people and start worrying about making yourself happy." He turned Koushiro around awkwardly in his embrace, "What would make you happy right now, Koushiro?"
Izzy could not pull away from his concerned gaze, linking them with potent force and conveying the emphatic desire behind those words. Abe wanted him happy - wanted to see him smile. This was miles away from... from... Izzy pushed his nose closer to the warm, concerned face, his eyes closing unbidden. This is what he wanted, his WOULD make him happy. His chest constricted in anticipation and he could feel the blood rushing through his arms, legs.
There were very few thoughts going through Shinseki's mind - whirlpooling around in happy frenzy. 'Is he going to kiss me? He is: oh my god! Oh my god! Right now? Oh my god!' He couldn't stop the delighted flutter locked in his ribcage from running free up his arms and the back of his neck, sending goosebumps on high alert, racing up his scalp.
With colossal effort, he forced himself to stand in place. God, he wanted to cup that beautiful chin and pull it closer - faster, now! - but it was already inching on its course towards his face. Shinseki closed his eyes and waited with short panting breaths for what seemed like an eternity.
Koushiro was working slowly, deliberately. He had to push himself onto tiptoe to gain access to the last few inches that separated them. He placed his hands on the sides of Shinseki's shoulders for balance. What may have been 15 seconds of close inspection and deliberate advance felt like hours. He'd worked himself up into a state of electric desire. Finally, his breath was falling in short pants across the taller man's lips. He pushed a millimeter closer and brushed his lips tenuously across the silky expanse before him. God, it was intoxicating! He couldn't stop himself, the game he was playing with himself was at an end, his tremulous control evaporated. Hungrily, Koushiro reached forward and captured his lips fully, pressing wantonly, searching for contact with all surfaces at once.
Shinseki, to his credit, did not move a fraction of an inch the entire time. But when Izzy presented him with an encompassing display of his want, he could not remain motionless a moment longer. He leaned downward, into those warm lips, crushing their bodies together with his strong arms.
A deft tongue darted willfully from Koushiro's mouth, licking across the detective's lips. It didn't even have to be asked - Abe's lips opening automatically, his tongue inviting the other inside.
Their blood crackled when the two organs touched, grazing across each other in their inspection - greeting, tasting. Abe pushed Koushiro backwards into the wall of the nearest brick building. The freezing chill greeting his back and the heat that was attacking him from the front was a heady and potent mixture. God, he felt alive!
Shinseki continued his assault, using the wall to trap his prey and push skin and flesh as close together as possible. Damn the layers of clothing! It was still contact, and while his wanton tongue continued its hungry quest, his belly and thighs pressed closer, needing to draw the two men as close as possible. His hot and tumescent groin crushed into Koushiro's own growing, unbidden need.
"Wait..." It was the last and saddest word Shinseki wanted to hear - Izzy pulling away slightly as the situation coalesced around him. "Wait - I think, I think we should stop." Like hell! Shinseki tried to mask his gritting teeth by biting his lip in frustration. Izzy tried to push the taller man off, slowly and only half-determinedly.
"Why? Did I do something wrong, Koushiro-kun?" He attempted to put on his best sad and forlorn face - it wasn't difficult.
"No, no... I just..." Izzy sucked in a gulpful of air and shut his eyes, concentrating on getting the words out. "I just need to say no. I just want to be able to slow down." He opened his eyes and presented Shinseki with a desirous stare that would leave weaker men in melted pools on the concrete.
Shinseki's heart merely skipped two beats, his words caught in his throat.
He nodded acceptingly at the pretty little creature before him that was now his. The detective extended his elbow for the smaller man, and the two began their journey to a warm and inviting abode through the falling snow.

Ken woke abruptly when a baton tapped him in between his ribs, jostling him from potent dreams of pain.
"It's noon, you sack of shit. Get UP." The gravel voice accosted his ears as the sun shot into his opening eyes. "It's noon, and there's no fucking breakfast left. On your feet before lunch is gone too." The guard grabbed the collar of his shirt, dragging him vertical with surprising effortlessness. Ken's felt like a ragdoll in his grip, boneless and liquid. It wasn't until his feet finally touched the ground that the pressure shot from the soles of his feet, through his knees, into his stomach, up his esophagus, and nearly out his mouth. He pursed his lips together to keep his empty stomach from heaving with the pain.
Fuck! He hurt bad, ALL over. He was one huge bruise. Ken could feel nerves twitching in a desperate attempt to escape through his skin and escape the ache pulsing through his bones.

"Not hungry, I take it?" Ken tried his best to throw a menacing, 'no shit' glare at the guard. He could barely manage a blurry stare.
"That's just fine with me. Detective wants to see you anyway." The guard would give no sympathy. However, he was in no mood to struggle getting the obviously beaten man up the stairs.
He used his baton as one would with an animal, prodding him at arm's length to get the pitiful, blue haired man to shuffle his way out of the now empty holding cell, down the endless hallway, and onto the elevator instead. Ken was poked until he was standing, cowering, at the far side of the metal box. As far away from the impassive guard as possible as they ascended from the basement to floor 3.
The jolting start was just gentle enough to NOT cause his knees to buckle.

Into the office then, where the once-busy secretaries hesitated at their tasks, all eyes turning to Ken. What a sight - what a feeling! All eyes were on him, staring. It was grossly unpleasant to be watched and scrutinized by so many faces. Many of which, pretty little brunettes, were now stifling giggles behind their demure hands. The rage started to build in him.
What was so fucking funny? Yes, perhaps he was clothed in prison attire, and yes sure, he was walking funny, and fine, yes, his arms were bruised a fantastic blue hue.
Why was that reason to laugh? Did they have any idea what he'd gone through last night?! The promise of a return to that pain and worse... Ken couldn't bring himself to think about it.
So why were they fucking laughing?!!!
He was trembling now, not just from pain, but from the desire to unleash pure unadulterated violence on their coiffed heads.

The guard had jabbed him in between two very sensitive ribs, eliciting a half-yelp of pain and causing his eyes to shift forward and his feet to resume their journey. The door ahead of him was again marked "Lt Det. Abe".
His tormentor knocked assertively on said door, which opened soundlessly. The blonde detective was standing calmly with the door knob in his hands.
"Won't you come in, Mr Ichijouji?" He nearly purred.

Ken mentally kicked himself for visibly swallowing in response to the sly invitation. He was fucking scared. He didn't even want to admit it to himself, but the poking and prodding pushed him inside the threshold and Abe quickly shut it behind him.
"I trust you slept well last night, Mr Ichijouji?" Abe cocked a smug eyebrow at him as he settled behind his desk. Ken took a deep breath, less visible this time, and adjusted his shoulders defiantly.
"Quite. Your accommodations are most hospitable." The last word was spat from between his teeth.
It was only too easy for Abe to see the bruises on his arms, and he chuckled sadistically.
"It seems you're also getting on well with your cell mates?" Ken bristled. What was the point of bantering in this inane manner? He could not understand what the detective's end game was.
"They are a jovial bunch of fellows." Ken's eyes narrowed with a hiss of breath. "Why did you want to see me, Detective? Let's cut the bullshit." He received a light laugh from Abe.
"I only wanted to check on your well-being and let you know we are closing in on the killer of the priest at St Barnard's." He smirked triumphantly. "It's only a matter of time, the lab will be back with the results in no more than two days."
A tense shock flew through Ken's abused stomach muscles, but he did not let it reach his shoulders or his eyes. He was going to play this as cool as possible.
"That's fantastic news, detective. I must applaud you and your top-notch team. I had no idea that a perpetrator smart enough to elude Kitami's finest for weeks would be stupid enough to leave behind a decisive piece of evidence ignored in the initial forensic sweep." Ken couldn't help but smirk, the trademark curl of his lips spreading across his mouth and into his superior eyes. But Shinseki would not be deterred.
"Right you are to question the serendipity of this information." His eyes lit dangerously. "Let's just say we suddenly found a way to match an untraceable DNA sample back to its owner." This cryptic statement did nothing to diminish Ken's confident facade. "And," he continued, "some very incriminating and intimate testimony to guide us, provided willingly by one of the minor priests."
Violet eyes shot open at that, hoping to incinerate the smug detective with waves of rage. He could not believe what Abe had just said, much less intimated.
"Surprised? You should be. In fact, the red-headed priest in question told me everything..." he paused for effect, "over dinner."
Ken could feel his pulse pounding in his ears. The pain of his beating was a far distant concern. Shinseki was not-so-tactfully telling him he'd gained Koushiro's trust enough to be taken to dinner - he could imagine it in an impressive, dimly lit restaurant - and to tell him about his and Ken's relationship.
Ha! Relationship. You couldn't even call it that. Had Koushiro gone so far as to tell this detective in detail about their 'shameful' relationship? If so, perhaps he'd also convinced himself that Ken had simply forced himself onto the unwilling priest, that their time spent together was nothing more than molestation.
He gripped the chair arms he was handcuffed to so hard his knuckles and nails turned white.

"No smart comeback, Mr Ichijouji?" Abe confidently rose, striding to the other side of the desk, intruding into Ken's personal space. "Don't worry, I didn't expect any." He leaned down towards Ken, playing absentmindedly with the ballpoint pen in his hand. "The best part is I have another opportunity tonight to glean information from this fantastic source. This fantastic, lithe... flexible... supple... willin-" He did not have a chance to finish his list of lusty adjectives when Ken sharply realized his right hand was not handcuffed down. With blinding speed, he brought his free hand up to Shinseki's dangerously lowered throat, gripping it without mercy, fully intent on crushing his windpipe.
Shinseki's hand, previously playing with his pen, brought it up menacingly to Ken's pulsing jugular. As he struggled for breath, a smile spread across the detective's purpling face. He took the metal tip and pressed it into Ken's flesh, promising a painful death.

Checkmate.

Reluctantly, the raven-haired man released his grip. The sick smile on Abe's face did not waver as he slowly pulled away from dangerous proximity with Ken and placed the pen back on his desk.
"God, your buttons are so easy to push." He dismissed him with one hand as he settled behind his desk like nothing had happened. Long, confident fingers used his phone to page his secretary, thereby ending their meeting. "And so fun. Trust me and don't worry - I'll take excellent care of Kou-kun."
With this last stab and no words on Ken's lips, the guard from before entered the room, soundlessly released Ken from his chair, and prodded him towards the door.
"Revenge does not long remain unrevenged," Ken muttered menacingly and the door was swiftly shut.

Abe actively chose to disregard the thinly veiled threat. After all, what could he possibly do - stuck and rotting in prison? And the best part? He could pretty much keep him there as long as he liked.
Rather than worry, he kicked his feet onto his desk, lounging decadently and lacing his fingers behind his head. It was nearly wrapped up.

No, they had not gathered any DNA evidence at the scene, despite his previous admission to Ken. No, Koushiro had not said anything about Ken, certainly nothing incriminating. No, it was all false, designed to push Ken to his limit, to see what reaction he'd get.
Violence. Pure, swift violence.
There are several reasons criminals resort to violence past the immediate need to obtain cash or valuables. Crimes of passion without monetary gratification stem from a few simple intrinsic origins: boredom, thrill-seeking, pleasure, or threat to self-esteem.
Certainly Ken's display - choking the life from him for a few simple but caustic words - was a plain reaction to what he saw as humiliation, a bitter transgression. Shinseki ticked the last checkbox on his mental profile sheet.
"Proclivity to violence, swift and unrestrained." Thank you, Professors Baumeister and Campbell.

Now, how to get some definitive forensic evidence... Shinseki, proudly smiling, picked up his phone and quickly dialed a familiar number.
"Kitami Morgue, Honda speaking."
"Honda-sama, this is Detective Abe. I need a favor."