Fandom: Enn Enn no Shouboutai / Fire Force.
Pairing: Shinmon Benimaru x fem!reader.
Content: Angst.
A/N: Okay...this took a turn I didn’t originally expect, so next chapters might be coming a biiiit slowlier. Feel free to ASK (or reblog) for tag – in fact: always reblog. Thanks to those who have already <3
19. Fuel
... Reader ...
It’s not the first time you wake with a pounding headache from having been knocked out...and judging by the general tendency of such things happening, you begrudgingly accept that it probably won’t be the last time either. Not that you want to make a habit out of it.
Rather than warm fragrances and soothing light beyond the eyelids, the place (wherever you are) comes across hard, cold, and dark. Blinking under the single electrical light, you take in the damp looking surroundings through a haze until the first wave of nausea passes. Not Asakusa. Admittedly, that’s the understatement of a lifetime but it helps you ground yourself. Chapped concrete walls, a simple cot made of steel, and over in the corner (which really is no further than two steps away) is a table and chair made of the same material. No windows. Only one door without a handle.
Your (or rather Benimaru’s) clothes are gone, replaced by a stiff jumpsuit in an indiscernible grey-faded colour. The idea that someone’s undressed and dressed you intensifies the nausea, but you manage to swallow it down together with the bubbles of fear.
And you wait.
Sometimes there’s the sound of footsteps passing by at the other side of the door, each time making you hold your breath with dread. But nothing happens – not even when the passer by(s) stop outside as if they’re about to enter. Time just passes and you start to tire from the constant vigilance.
At some point, a bland meal arrives through a hatch and slide in the wall by the desk. Nothing impressive. Nothing that tempts you enough to risk anything by eating or drinking it out of fear of what might be in it. I’m overreacting. They caught me, so why would they spike the food or water? But the worry remains unmoved by any amount of logic you can muster.
... Konro ...
Everything has descended into madness.
After returning from the kitchen fire, Konro had presumed that the absence of Beni and [Y/N] was a natural result of their slow start together, but when the night had almost dragged by and the world started to stir, only the captain returned. A grim expression on his face was underlined by the clench of his jaw and fists, his clothes singed and torn.
“Where is -” The question is unnecessary. “Where did you search?”
Benimaru sinks down on the nearest chair. “Third. She’s not there.”
The aftermath of Benimaru’s unsanctioned “search” hit shortly after that.
Representatives from Haijima and the highest up of the Special Fire Force are staring down at the two men from Asakusa, one of which has his mind somewhere else entirely. The last thing needed to dissolve some of the tension is for the captain of Seventh to come off as wry, cooperative, and standoffish.
“I don’t know about a guy with a dark coat and wide-rimmed hat,” Konro sighs, rubbing the scar running across his face, “all I know is that an Asakusan citizen is missing now and that captain Giovanni has practically harassed us on several occasion previous to tonight.” Say something. He attempts to project the desperate wish into Benimaru’s brain. Something useful, he adds.
An exasperated huff betrays one of the Haijima guys, a sleazy man called Oguru, but it’s the Agency Chief who speaks up. “Giovanni...is not a captain anymore.”
Finally, the only captain present seems to listen although his face reveals nothing.
Konro lets his hand fall from his face. “Please explain.”
“As you might know from co-operating with Company Eight, certain...issues have come to light that have dishonoured Giovanni’s standing and warranted his arrest which was set to be handled less than 48 hours ago.”
“Was set to be...?” the lieutenant stressed the grammatical choice.
A potent silence drags out.
“...a simple task which the Fire Force leadership was not able to carry out,” Oguru butts in coldly, “instead allowing him to escape with his research and plans.”
“Hrm,” the Chief grumps, “probably into the Nether.”
Konro’s mind blanks out for a second, not even able to think of curses strong enough for what he knows will happen.
... Reader ...
Your body has betrayed you, allowing you to dose off after hours of hyper-vigilance, and so it comes as a shock when the door is wrenched open to allow an oddly dressed girl to enter the room – a baggy, white onesie that somehow doesn’t manage to make her appear anywhere near decent is topped by a crown that has slid past the forehead.
“Awww! You didna wike what we gave you, huh?” she trills, an edge of insanity looming close in her voice, “well, don’t wowwy wittle girl! We won’t give you anymore.” The last sentence stands in sharp contrast, suddenly void of any emotion or caricatured childishness.
Rather than engage, you remain on the cot and only watch the cold mannerism disappear to make room for impatience. She’s insane! Whatever horrors you had concocted at night, growing up in fear of the many dangers a homeless girl could suffer, none has prepared you for this.
“Get up!” the girl orders.
She can only be a handful of year younger than you. Reminds me of a spoiled toddler. And just like a brat, the tantrum follows much too quickly and unleashes an electrical jolt that spans the distance and enter your body with a sharp pain before everything turns numb.
“Wha-...?”
Numb, but not limp. Your body moves as if invisible strings have been attached at every joint, forcing you to stumble past the grinning girl and into the dark corridor beyond. Fear claws at your lungs, causing bile to boil in the guts at every useless attempt of regaining control.
“Don’t fight it, pwetty girl,” the giggle torments, “you belong to us now.”
