Greg Veder vs The World

Cutscene: Implacable

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April 19, 2011

6:42 PM

The walls of the foyer were a pale pastel color, that same sort of vague shade between purple and pink that left one spending inordinate amounts of time just trying to figure out exactly which hue it more closely belonged to. Decorating those pastel walls were paintings of vague flowery environments done in a decidedly Korean style. Fully fleshing out the atmosphere were several containers of lit incense, each one releasing distracting whorls of smoke that soon faded. The lobby could be considered one of class, yet its patrons were decidedly the opposite.

The brightly lit waiting room was full of ABB, each one wearing a disgruntled look that seemed to fit their faces more than any other expression. Very few women maintained a presence in the room, several of them giggling on the lap of grown men and acting in such a way that they fit the definition of girl far more aptly. For the other, she was undoubtedly a woman and by appearance, a strong one; the scowl on her face powerful enough to match any of the much more physically intimidating male figures crowding the lobby. Most in the area knew the older woman as 'Jo', an experienced businesswoman who had made the move to Brockton Bay from Boston years back just to open up her own day spa and massage parlor.

Everyone else, however, knew her as simply 'Mama-san'.

Behind what looked like a raised receptionist's desk, Mama-san sat there staring daggers with a drink in one hand and a cigarette holder in the other, a set of gray double doors behind her. She didn't cut much of a menacing image as she was; an older lady with a notably corpulent figure, a large mole on her chin and far too much makeup to ever truly be flattering. She wore large flowery earrings and a pink-patterned blouse that showed far more cleavage than anyone truly wanted to see.

Despite all this, not a single man present dared meet her eye, each one somehow cowed by the air of authority she gave off. The rest were too busy stealing glances at the barely dressed whore rubbing herself over the overconfident idiot with the face scar. Mama-san's gaze continued flicking annoyedly across each one of the thugs, her attention each time being drawn back to the girls nuzzling up against the men she was forced to shelter.

It didn't take a trained detective to piece together why the woman was so annoyed. Even though she had to allow the men to use her place as a makeshift hideout, it certainly didn't mean that she had to take it pleasantly. While Lung may have owned the place in all but name, it was still her business and she made damn sure everyone knew as much. Unlike several other places Lung owned with girls plucked from anywhere Lung's men could find them, her place had standards. On some level, it even had class. She certainly wouldn't let her girls stand on street corners.

Letting out an annoyed huff, Mama-san poured herself another drink from a flower-patterned ceramic bottle, looking imperious as the men in the room nursed their own bottles of cheap beer lamely.

The atmosphere was tense and quiet even with the girls in the room, the few muttered words shared between men nervous and worried. Scattered mutterings painted a larger picture of the situation; Lung's restaurant being raided by the Empire, Big Ken suspected dead and several hideouts going silent all over the city. All of this was barely audible over the sounds of grunting, shaking furniture and faked moaning that wafted from the ceiling above their heads.

The day had been a tense one much like the one before it, each of them forced to do things they would rather not by a boss they feared even more so than Lung himself. Roughly two dozen men sat around quickly-erected plastic tables under Mama-san's purview, almost each and every one likely hoping they would be the next one allowed into one of the rooms. The massages she offered here may not have been as therapeutic as she claimed but they were undoubtedly relaxing.

Cigarette smoke wafted up into the air to mix with the smell of burning incense as Mama-san lifted the cigarette holder to take a deep gulp of the milky-white alcohol in her cup, throwing her head back as she did so. Long painted fingernails tapped the now-empty bottle for a few seconds, the sound almost inaudible as a particularly loud grunt came from one of the upstairs rooms, the ceiling shaking slightly along with the noise.

She turned that same powerful glare towards the ceiling tiles, her fingernails still tapping out an unsteady beat on the ceramic. She pursed her lips as her gaze lowered back down, beady black eyes darting off to the far wall.

"Hiro!"

The sharp bark got the attention of several in the room, but none more so than the recipient of the call itself. From where he stood leaning against the far wall, a rail-thin figure quickly jumped to attention and hurriedly made his way over to the commanding woman, nearly tripping over himself in his hurry. His baggy black T-shirt hung off his skeletal frame, somehow drawing more attention to the visible bruises criss-crossing both his arms in addition to the multitude of flesh-colored band-aids wrapped around his fingers and palms.

"Y-y-yes, Mama-san?" The teen answered the woman with his head down as he reached the front desk, doing his best to avoid making eye contact. For whatever reason, Mama-san was no fan of eye contact from any one who worked for her, the young boys Lung sent her even more so. Hiro, the newest gofer of the group and the weakest of them all, was no exception to this rule.

The brothel manager's gaze lost some of its heat as the boy stood in front of her, visibly cowed. Her scowl shifted upwards slightly, gaining some of the traits of a sneer as she shot him a look that was filled with more disgust than anything else. "Stop standing around like an idiot and make yourself useful," she growled out, jowls wobbling slightly as she shook the empty bottle in Hiro's face. "You see this?"

"Uhh…" The boy flinched back slightly, one hand quickly rising to his face to push his cheap round glasses back up his nose. It had been remarked often enough to the seventeen-year old that if he let his hair grow out from it's distinct neat bowl cut, he'd be a dead-ringer for a Japanese Harry Potter. It was no surprise that Hiro had developed a powerful hatred for the series in all its forms. "I mean, y-yes, Mama-san."

"Then stop looking!" She snapped again, tone ringing with annoyance. "Fetch me more rice wine and be quick with it!"

"Yes, Mama-san," Hiro repeated, not for the first time feeling like a trained animal as he gave the woman a slight bow with his head kept down. The ceramic bottle dropped from her raised hand into Hiro's awaiting palm, the teen accepting it gladly as his hand tightened around it almost immediately.

He had barely taken a step away from Mama-san when her shrill voice struck his ears again. "Big boy! Whatever your name is, the other one!" A few meters away from where Hiro had been standing, the boy in question raised his head to glance over at the receptionist's desk. "Follow Hiro upstairs and bring down more beer!"

The muscular Korean teenager stretched languidly, taking his time to peel away from the wall as he turned to fully face Mama-san. With careful slow steps, he began to walk over to where Hiro stood."You know my name's Eugene, right, Mama-san?"

Hiro forced himself not to flinch at Eugene's overly casual tone, only managing it through force of will. Eugene's less-than-respectful nature often got Hiro in trouble with Mama-san — for reasons that he'd prefer not to think about — yet Eugene refused to change. Even now, the boy didn't even bother to walk all the way over to Mama-san's desk as he responded to her. Stopping a good distance away from the older woman's desk, Eugene Hwang raised an eyebrow at the woman in pink, hands resting in the pockets of his black and blue tracksuit.

"When you stop being lazy, I'll remember it," she sneered again, eyes darting up and down Eugene's large form.

Hiro's stomach lurched as he noticed her gaze shift from disgust to leering as she took in Eugene's muscled body, even with his tracksuit in the way. The queasiness didn't fade as Mama-san licked away the remnants of Korean rice wine on her upper-lip, the milky-white color of the Makgeolli certainly not helping the stomach-turning barrage of sexual images in his head.

"Well?" The older woman stopped her leering after a few moments as her sneer returned in full force, her manicured hands shooing them away like they were insects. "What are you waiting for? Go do what I told you! Go!"

It was with relief in his chest that Hiro turned away from the brothel manager to head toward the stairwell, his friend plodding along behind him. While he preferred working as Mama-san's errand boy alongside Eugene compared to actually having to do anything truly criminal, he couldn't deny that he hated the woman and every inch of this fake spa. In truth, he treasured the moments the horrible woman sent him to fetch something or clean something up. Any moment he could spend away from Mama-san's gaze while on the job was heaven.

Still, though, Hiro couldn't help but think to himself, fingers of one hand idly picking at a scab on his other arm, I would give anything not to have to deal with this place anymore.

The thought left his mind a moment later as he brought one foot down in front of the other and the building shook.

The hell? Hiro stumbled forward, his eyes widening as he tried his best to maintain his balance from the sudden upset.

Before the Japanese teen could smash his face against the hard tile floor, a hand from behind pulled him up and the teen whipped around to see Eugene with a confused expression on him and the faces of two dozen gangsters as shocked as he was. For a moment no one said anything, the entire room having gone perfectly silent.

Then, Eugene broke it.

"Yo, what the f-"

The sound of shattering wood and plaster silenced anything the resounded through the room as the wall to his right suddenly exploded inwards. Hiro could only gasp in pain, the teen dropping to the floor as something clipped his shoulder and debris suddenly pelted the front of his body. Blinking behind his glasses, the Japanese teen glanced up.

His body began to tremble as he spotted a masked face through the gaping hole that stood wider than the door itself just a few meters away.

"Hello there. Sorry to drop in but..." The figure spoke up as he leisurely stepped in through the hole in the wall, hands held behind his back. "I'm looking for a Miss Bakuda. B-A-K-U-D-A is how I believe it's spelled. Pretty sure that's some kinda Japanese so I figured, 'who else but the ABB could help me locate someone like that', right?"

"So..." If it wasn't for the cloth over his mouth, Hiro would have sworn the guy was smiling wide enough to show every single one of his teeth. "Any takers?"

For a moment there was silence.

Nobody moved.

Nobody spoke.

Nervous glances were shared, but not a single person even so much as attempted to leave their seats, each individual almost frozen by the palpable tension in the air.

"If I had a nickel for every time..."

Then the cape raised his hands.