The Kurokawa men laughed. The lieutenant lit a cigarette.
"Little brother of the broken doll," Goro rumbled, his voice like gravel in a blender. "I was hoping you'd come. I need a warm-up before I visit Akari's hospital room."
Warehouse 13 smelled of dead fish, rust, and the metallic tang of old blood. Inside, a cage had been erected—octagonal, chain-link, with a floor of warped steel plates. Fluorescent lights buzzed like dying flies. In the shadows, Kurokawa men in black suits lined the walls, their faces masks of bored cruelty.
"Good," he said. "You hurt me. That makes this fun."
"You're not your sister," Goro said, spitting blood. "She was elegant. A dancer. You're just a hammer. And hammers break."
"You went to the final," she said. It wasn’t a question.
The Kurokawa men laughed. The lieutenant lit a cigarette.
"Little brother of the broken doll," Goro rumbled, his voice like gravel in a blender. "I was hoping you'd come. I need a warm-up before I visit Akari's hospital room."
Warehouse 13 smelled of dead fish, rust, and the metallic tang of old blood. Inside, a cage had been erected—octagonal, chain-link, with a floor of warped steel plates. Fluorescent lights buzzed like dying flies. In the shadows, Kurokawa men in black suits lined the walls, their faces masks of bored cruelty.
"Good," he said. "You hurt me. That makes this fun."
"You're not your sister," Goro said, spitting blood. "She was elegant. A dancer. You're just a hammer. And hammers break."
"You went to the final," she said. It wasn’t a question.