A single light illuminates the shoddy room. Somewhere, the black dog is observed from on high. Someone seems to think this job falls within his skill set. Were he asked his opinion, he would have disagreed. As it stands, the creature simply lights up a cigarette. It’s a distinctly human gesture, and it helps. The tobacco cherry gives more light to the room, and the smell lingers. [break]
“Gonna be honest, buddy.” His first words carry a note of melancholy beneath the usual gregarious enthusiasm of a dog. “I ain’t a fan of hurtin’ people. Killin’ I can do all day. I’m real good at killin’.” There is no boast. Amber eyes trace a path from the heart up to the jugular vein. Two spots, so easily ripped. [break]
“Gimme somethin’ for Fox and Frosty.”

Admin Fox's mask gleamed. He was in an observer's position today. That was good, because beneath the helmet, the admin looked like shit. Dynergy poisoning had stripped the weight from his face, and getting a double dose from both Regice and Registeel had stripped his weight even further.

He was a skeleton draped in skin.

"Give him what he wants." A static buzz emerged from the admin's helmet. It was hardly needed with Howard's rasping voice. "It's easier."

He grew silent to catch his breath.

---

Hitoshi Inoue
THREATEN

"Why should ya tell me anything?" The question rouses a thoughtful expression from the dog. Running a hand along a jawline that runs like a sharp, jagged coast down to a bloodstained sea, he ponders that himself. All in the world, including the masked admin behind him, is forgotten. Everything except the man in front of him.[break]
"Cause you like yer fingers. They're real useful. Trust me. I come from some yakuza. You ever seen a guy try and function with some shortened fingers? Ya can, but it's real, real hard." A short tanto comes free of its scabbard. His eyes flick along the edge, inspecting it idly, as if it has nothing to do with the conversation at hand.[break]
"Admin Fox, what finger wouldja hate t'lose the most? Yer right thumb or yer right pointer finger?"

Any of them, really. The admin had supped from too much pain recently. He wasn't made of iron, more like aluminum. Bendable, flexible, meant to crumple under pressure rather than hold fast in the face of any threat. At this moment, Howard would've thrown Hitoshi under the bus to avoid more pain.

Even still, he didn't want to afflict it. That was what monsters did. Hitoshi would suffice. Still, to order someone to do such a thing was to-

"Both." Howard stood and gestured at Hitoshi to continue. Proceed. Multiple digits per finger. Multiple breaks."

He walked towards the door and his vision began to swim, tinged in the red associated with Dynergy. He stumbled slightly.

---

Hitoshi Inoue

"Shit, boss." The dog grimaces, as dogs sometimes do. "A thumb without the top digit's just a nub. Useless." Looking down at his own finger, he imagines that nub and what it might be like to only have one, for all intents and purposes, half a hand. Shuddering, he stands up, walking over to the man. He puts a hand on his shoulder.[break]
"Sorry, buddy. Nothin' personal. Really."[break]
He raises his hand, knife out, ready to cut...[break]
And he sees the beginnings of a collapse.[break]
"Admin Fox!" He sprints past their prisoner, tears beginning to flow from the man's worried eye. The dog squats, and he tries to catch the admin before it's too late.

The prisoner is saved by an act of faith. Whether it be due to divine providence, the will of Arceus, or just sheer dumb luck, their hands remained unmarred. Their thumb remains unblemished, their flesh remains smooth, their skin unbroken.

Luck saves them. Luck, and the fact that Howard had experienced an unending march of battles over the past month. From the battle in Dewford to the fight with Registeel, the admin was weary and tired, and his strength threatened to leave him behind. He felt like he was scraping his fifties again.

It was a humbling experience.

Hitoshi caught him before the admin hit the floor. The wall offered a small hint of support as the admin crumpled. His vision switched into red-shade, and Hitoshi's face was stained red with blood. It made the admin let out a scream that sounded more like a low groan.

"Black Dog..." Howard blinked once, his visor gleaming. "Hitoshi."

He gestured towards the prisoner.

---

Hitoshi Inoue

The black dog turns, and in his eyes is murder. Out comes a blade, and every step foreshadows what will come at the end of his ruinous path. By the time he stands over this stout man of the League, his pants are stained. Beneath him is a cornflower puddle that tells a tale all its own. One boot on the chest, and pressure builds as the dog kneels.[break]
"Talk." The dog commands.[break]
And he does. He spills his guts. He spills every secret he knows. It comes out into a recorder while grunts rush into the room to help Admin Fox towards the medical bay. He bleats, and he screams, and he begs. All men die, but this one has the good sense not to die in a puddle of his own fluids.

The man talks, and Howard vomits his guts out in a nearby bathroom. His helmet hangs on the stall's handle, and the admin's face is reflected in the reddening water of the toilet bowl.

He couldn't distinguish between the red of blood and the red of Dynite Ore and Wishing Stars anymore. It all merged together into the same flat red as it mixed together. Howard wiped his mouth, tasting metal. He was not fit to lead. Not fit to be here. Yet he was, all the same.

It was expected of him.

This was who he had to be.

He retched again, before pawing at his helmet. It clicked on with a familiar mechanical hiss as the admin stood up and left the bathroom, interesting in hearing what the Black Dog had unearthed.

---

Hitoshi Inoue