A sleek, black Porsche pulls to a halt opposite an apartment complex.

  Akio looks out at it through the car window, shuddering internally at how creepy it looks. The neighborhood as a matter of fact reminded him of some of his more impoverished years, once before Alex and the other during their huge fight.

  Speaking of Alex, he turns to eye her in the passenger seat, but she is too busy talking up a goddamn storm. He leans over to grab a duffle bag from the backseat, racking his brain for information on when Alex became a chatterbox. Must have been sometime during his passing, he thinks and can't stop the full body shudder that wrecks through him at the thought of his death. Alex finally registers the shudder turning to him, and that is his cue to exit the car.

  “Cold?” She asks with controlled neutrality, slamming her door shut, and falling into step beside him as they enter the building.

  “I still don't understand why you're here.” is his very unrelated reply. Alex quirks an eyebrow at it.

  “I'm here to see Viktor.” She says, gesturing to the stairs in the corner when the elevator unsurprisingly turns out to be broken.

  Translation: 'I'm here to keep an eye on you'. Because Viktor never asked for her. “He didn't ask for you.”

  “I'm here anyway.” She shrugs.

  Akio wrenches open the door to 4c, forgoing all acts of decency. They did kill him after all.

  Viktor is stood by a decrepit table. Looking superbly out of place in the dingy house.

  Now Akio would rather rip his heart out than admit this to anyone, but the man did possess an elegance that indicated his status. Tailored suits that probably cost more than some people earned in a year, the perfect posture of someone who was bred in preparation for his position of extreme importance, just all round distinction. Something Akio had nearly forgotten about, being around Alex and Chris, two of the most lackluster people he had the pleasure of living with.

  Which brought him to the lackluster boy sat fidgeting on the dusty couch. Akio lets his gaze slide down the entirety of the child who is dressed in--in delicate terms--an outfit similar to a hobo's. The man is in torn jeans--and Akio refuses to refer to them as 'ripped' because this was no such thing--his dirty blonde hair peeking out from under a tattered beanie. If this was the brother who shot him, then maybe it served him right.

  “Alex,” Viktor perks up as they enter. “I didn't realize you would be joining us.”

  The brother flies up from his seat at their arrival, looks around for a moment without meeting their eyes, before settling on wringing his fingers together.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Viktor takes this with the grace of one who has been dealing with situations like these a significant portion of his life.

  “My brother, Erik.” he gestures.

  Alex takes a very brief glance at Erik, before her eyes flit back to Viktor. “Akio insisted.” She conversation leapfrogs, and it takes Viktor a moment to recall their former conversation.

  “Did he?” he asks, eyes landing on Akio.

  “You forced your way into the car.” Akio says in response.

  Alex smiles and waves a dismissive hand about. “Semantics.”

  There is an awkward silence after that. One where Erik starts to say something multiple times before deciding against it, guilt strewn all over a face that Akio might have considered attractive if not for the circumstances involved. His guilt had been eating him up then. Good.

  “So, do we start?” Akio shatters the uncomfortable air.

  Viktor looks grateful for the fact, “Where do you want me?” He asks, divesting himself of his jacket, before proceeding quickly to the shirt buttons.

  Akio eyes the two wooden chairs, tucked in under the table and gestures for Viktor to station himself on one.

  “You too.” he says to Erik, without even bothering to look at him.

  Erik jolts out of some daydream, “Look, I just want to say --” he starts, and Akio would level this building to the foundations if one more person apologized to him.

  “Save it.” Alex cuts the boy short. She must have interpreted the twitch in his eyes.

  Akio gestures to the other seat beside Viktor, and Erik takes it obediently, after tugging off his sweatshirt. Ugh.

  Now that the conduit was nearby, Akio could see the scars on both men's shoulders pulsing a bright red. Alex rears back in alarm at the sight.

  “Whoever did this was a pro.” he says. Credit where credit is due.

  “My mother.” Viktor spits.

  “I've never had one of those before, but I'm certain this,” Alex wiggles a finger between the brothers, “isn't standard.“

  “It was a way to ensure Erik didn't perish.” Viktor turns his head to his brother-- the source of all his problems.

  Akio unzips the duffle, busying himself with retrieving several containers of things, having been prepared for the occasion.

  “He's sick?“ Alex asks.

  “No. He's a 29 year old trouble magnet and ungifted.”

  Alex narrows her eyes.

  “Don't get me wrong, I have no problem with him being … regular. I do however, have some concerns about sharing my life with someone as reckless as him.” Viktor says. The snap of a latex glove causing everyone to jerk.

  “Mm.” Akio intones as he slips on the other hand of the surgical glove. “Tell me about it.” he finishes with a pointed look at Alex, who rolls her eyes.

  “One, we do not share a life force.” she says, “And two, is it really recklessness when you can't die?”

  “Funny thing to say seeing as you have managed to infact die, more times than I care to remember.” Akio remarks, before retrieving two syringes full of God knows what.

  “And yet, here I still am.” Alex says, finishing with a little bow.

  “I'm sorry, what is that for?” Viktor interrupts, eyes glued to the syringes, he misses Alex's murderous glare.

  “Propofol.” Akio says, brandishing the syringe like a weapon. And frankly, why wouldn't the man look wary? “What we're about to do will hurt like hell.” he concludes.

  “I'd rather have my wits about me, if you don't mind.” Viktor says, arms outstretched in a placating gesture.

  “I'll take the shot.” Erik pipes up from somewhere, shrinking in on himself, when all eyes land on him. “Please.” he adds sheepishly.

  Akio obliges. And if he jabs the needle into him with more force than necessary, no one says anything. Erik lolls unconscious almost immediately.