9 Becoming a Man...? No thank you.

POV : 'Theresa'

The woman calling herself 'Theresa' raises a finger to the device in her ear as she steps out of the apartment complex and into her car, "You get all that?"

"I did, all the data has been sent to Armsmaster for analysis..."

Theresa thins her lips at the response, "You sound as if you disagree with my methods?"

"I feel as though you are relying on this new technology too much, that you could have been softer in your approach..."

"It's good then that you don't make these decisions, otherwise everyone person of interest would be at a massage parlor with dollies in their mouths." she irritably drawls, "Put me on with Armsmaster."

A beep later and Armsmaster's blunt voice comes through, "Lana."

"Colin. You got the tape?"

"I did, but you aren't gonna be happy about it." he remarks, causing 'Theresa' to pause.

"What do you mean? You've got that prototype truth-detection tech, you must have found something!" she exclaims, she was certain Tieu and Kieu had lied during the interview. She'd recorded it all and sent it over for Colin to work his magic, yet he's telling her something's up?

"Neither of them spoke a single lie." he blandly states.

...

"No, you must have made an error. He spun this bullshit story about his gang getting tattoos. You don't have to be a detective to know he was blatantly lying!"

"Yeah, well, that's how it is. The only thing we can infer from my readings is that the woman is his biological mother, he was in a gang and got the mark tattooed, and that the PRT isn't doing a very good job in his eyes. Are we done? I think this is another false flag, I have better things to do with my time."

"Whatever. Go over the tape again and I'll leave it at that." Theresa frowns, releasing the bands in her hair and allowing it to go free. She didn't consider the matter over at all, that kid was lying, and she'd prove it eventually... She just needed time.

"I'll send your skepticism to the Director." Colin drawls before ending the call.

Fucking Tinker know-it-alls who think they've got everything figured out.

--------------------------

POV : Kieu

With Susan gone and my potential scholarship apparently not affected by the whole debacle, I surrendered myself to the third confrontation of the day, after cleaning the kitchenware of course.

"So, are you mad?" I ask my 'mother'.

She hums at ease, "Will you tell me the truth?"

...

"No." I quietly respond, my secrets were mine alone, and even if I trusted someone implicitly, I truly doubted I'd ever reveal my origins. It just wouldn't do anything but add further questions, most of which I myself didn't know.

Even if I hadn't already made up my mind, the existence of powers that could potentially subvert her mind made the chances of me being frank with her below zero.

"Sorry..." I sheepishly add, unable to look in her eyes, despite the woman smiling sweetly at me.

"What's it matter?" she bluntly states, drawing a confused look from me, "If you don't want to tell me, don't. I promised not to ask, Kieu, and we all have our secrets. Yours would not have changed my decision to take you in, powers or not."

"I'm not a cape." I blurt out.

"You are no gangster either," she retorts, "You're a good boy."

Good boy this, good boy that, if she keeps up with that phrase I'm afraid she'll turn into Andrew Ryan...

"Are you sure? I'm bringing all this trouble to your door, it doesn't feel like it."

"Our door, Kieu." she corrects, "I knew there would be problems when I took you in, but we can handle them as they come. For now, I bought you some books on computer science, go study."

I quirk a brow at her, "What about the shit with the ABB-"

"Language..." she chides before shaking her head, "The ABB... All we can do is hope things turn out fine."

---------------------

"I ain't fucking talking to you, old man!" a loud voice outside the apartment door knocks me from my five-hundredth or so pushup that night, forcing me into alertness, hand already gripping my hammer and tugging up some new shorts as I stumble into the hallway.

I barely even acknowledge Tieu's presence as I throw the door open and find Mr Hotaro held against the wall by his jacket by Takata, the piece of shit ABB ganger that tried to steal my guitar a month ago.

"G-get your hands off of me!"

"Listen to the man you duck-faced cunt!" I shout, pushing Takata off of the elderly man and further down the hallway and raising my hammer threateningly.

"You little punk, you're lucky Kiyoshi saved your ass the last time." he growls, and I can spy a trembling Takeshita peeking through her door at the commotion.

"You alright?" I ask Mr Hotaro as the man rubs his chest.

"Yes. No harm done..." he mutters, still glaring at the ABB grunt.

I look to Takata, "Picking random fights with elders now? Apparently stealing from kids isn't bottom of the barrel for you."

"Fuck off. I'm not here for this guy," he jabs a finger at me, "I'm here for you."

"Kieu isn't going anywhere with you, thug."

"You want another round kusotare!? This ain't negotiable, the boss wants to see him, and that's gonna happen even if I have to drag 'em."

"And he sends you?" I question distrustfully, why would they send this asshole if they wanted to recruit me?

Takata shrugs, "Must not like you much. Get some threads on, brat, you don't wanna keep 'em waiting. I'll be outside."

...

Looks like I'll be dealing with this ABB 'situation' today... I go to step back into the apartment but Mr Hotaro stops me with a hand on my shoulder.

"Kieu, whatever they want, don't let yourself be dragged along. I have seen too many young people bought by their lies and promises." he warns.

"It's fine, I'll handle it... Trust me." I shoot him and the still spying Takeshita a 'confident' smile.

"Is that so..." the man mumbles to himself.

"Be safe, Kieu." Tiêuve offers as I step out, not forgetting to wrap a bandage around my wrist to prevent another 'reveal' like yesterday.

"I'll try, Tieu."

----------------------

Outside, I find Takata standing cross-armed next to a Lexus sedan, another two ABB gangsters already sitting inside, one in the driver's seat and one in the back.

"Get in." Takata orders and falls into the passenger's side, leaving me with the honour of the back, next to a large sweaty Korean guy with a top-knot.

"Nice hair..." I remark conversationally, trying to keep my nerve, to which the guy just blows some air out of his nose and grunts.

"Some brat huh, Daewon?" Takata says over his shoulder.

"Too young."

"That's what I said, but the boss's used younger before hasn't he?" Takata says, getting a displeased grunt in response.

"Kare no shudan ni gimon o motanaide." the driver, a guy in his twenties with short black hair chides.

"Sore wa wakatte imasu… shikashi, kodomo-tachi o makikomubekide wa arimasen." Takata replies, shooting me a glance before sinking into his chair.

Maybe I should have taken Mr Hotaro up on his offer to teach me Japanese...?

The car finally pulls up to a bar of sorts further into the docks called 'Choi's Busan', an obvious air of danger lingered around it, which was easy to pick up with how pedestrian were avoiding it. Takata and Daewon usher me inside despite my hesitance, revealing the clean yet 'off-feeling' interior. Wood paneling and cheap-looking paper walls to section parts of it off. People of all sorts sat at tables around the place, eating food and drinking the day away.

At the front was the bar, manned by a guy who wouldn't look out of place on the FBI most wanted list, or a max security prison. Muscular to the point steroids weren't even a question, make-shift tattoos that were obviously done outside of professional purview, and scars from both bullets and knives marring his arms, neck, and face.

"Suda-san," Takata respectfully greets with a nod.

"That him?"

"Hai..."

Suda tilts his head at the back door in the corner, "Head in then, boss is waiting." he says, prompting us to continue.

I was honestly a little taken back at how blatant they were about this whole thing, most criminal organizations wouldn't make their hideouts so obvious, doing gang business in front of customers and patrons like this.

But then, the ABB would have to fear someone or something to care about that, wouldn't they?

The next doors lead to my final destination, though whether that was referring to the movies I didn't know. A smokey room smelling of tobacco, pot, gunpowder, and other less pronounced scents greeted me, upholstered seats lining the walls with big tables in the centre, the biggest already being used for a poker game.

Five people were present if you ignored the armed men, all older Japanese dudes who had expressions as if their families had been forced to kamikaze in WW2. I don't know why they were so miserable given the excellent liquor and the pile of cigarettes next to them...

As soon as I enter they all eye me up, though most ignore me after the initial glance. That didn't stop a shiver going up my back however, I felt like an item at an auction.

"Hm? Gomi-san..." one of the men remark to Takata, "And our guest, young Kieu." he casually pulls out the chair next to him, "Do you play?"

I glance at Takata who was visibly biting his tongue to stay quiet, only then realizing the guy was talking to me. "Poker? I guess." I shrug.

He nods, "Sit," he waves off Takata, "You can go."

The teen doesn't say a word and exits with a furrowed brow, leaving me in the care of these men. Not something I was happy with, but I wasn't dead yet, regardless of how nervous this all made me. "So, I was called here for some reason?" I say as I sit, doing a double take at the sheer amount of money on the table. Must've been over fifty-thousand if my rough estimation was correct.

The man nods, "I am Nishihara Toshio, I called you here for a game..." he gestures at the table, prompting the dealer to drop two cards in front of me.

"With stakes like these? I can barely afford shoes." I say in obvious discomfort. I was hoping they'd be direct about what they want, not playing around like this... Unfortunately, there wasn't much I could do but play along.

"Oh? With how talented you are at singing, I'm sure footwear is the least of your troubles." Mr Nishihara smiles lightly and slides a clip of a thousand dollars in front of me. "To start you off."

Giving me a thousand outright? He played his hand too soon, I'm not dumb enough to believe these people give handouts, if I actually win more from them it'd probably be even worse. "I'm not sure I can take that, Mom says I should be sensible with money..."

Nishihara chuckles, "I'm giving this to you to play with us, isn't it sensible to use it for what it's intended for?"

Before I can answer the man pushes five hundred forward, the dealer following up by placing three cards on the table, three of hearts, six of spades, and a jack of hearts...

Sighing, I wipe the cold sweat from my brow and play along, checking my cards to find a jack and a five. Good enough, but, my plan isn't to win, leaving here with any money would be a big mistake. I match his bet and drop half of 'my' cash forward, allowing the other players to make their move. "What's your job here anyway, Nishihara-san?" I politely ask.

"Hm, people call me 'boss', but I serve Lung. While he enjoys the fruits of his labour, I manage his properties, men, and territory... That includes the building you live in." he states, either ignoring or not noticing my flinch at the mention of my home. The turn soon comes back around to him, and seeing everyone match his five hundred, he raises another two-fifty, to which I follow along.

He sips his drink before quirking a brow in 'realization' at the fact I was left high and dry. "Someone get the boy a drink, it's hot enough in here."

"-No, I'm-" I stutter as a glass of something strong enough to burn the hairs in my nose is shoved into my hands.

"Grow some hair on your chest, you're a man now." Suda grouses, patting me on the back before going to man his bar again.

"It's Surukana, expensive soju. Do not waste it." Nishihara all but orders despite his 'kind' tone. At my hesitance he tilts my glass to me, forcing me to drink it or risk spilling it on myself and the floor.

The familiar burn my current body was unused to crawls down my gullet, causing me to choke, drawing laughs around the room at my expense.

"Good haah?" he gives me an okay symbol with his hands, "Sugoi ne?"

"Yeah. Sugoi..." I reply, my voice rough and mind whirring to figure out their angle.