Chapter 22

Author's Note:

Hello Author-san here, I know some of y'all are disappointed about the name I picked for Reggie's new persona. Welp you'll all be having a reveal next chapter so stay tuned, also if you do have suggestions do make them as everyone has a right to voice their opinions.

Anyway back to the story 😉

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Moving ahead steadily, Charlotte led the way, her gun pointing outward as she scanned the dimly lit room. Reggie and Frenchie followed close behind, their footsteps barely making a sound on the cold, concrete floor.

The room smelled of stale smoke and sweat, giving off a clear sign of the long hours spent here by its occupants. The air was thick and musty, making it slightly difficult to breathe.

As they ventured further inside, they spotted two grunts of Asian origin sitting at a table, so engrossed in a game of poker.

The men were oblivious to their surroundings, their focus entirely on the cards in their hands. One of the grunts, a burly man with a scar across his cheek, glared at his companion. "You bastard, I know you're cheating. Ain't no way you're this good!" he accused, slamming his cards down in frustration.

His companion, a lean man with a mischievous glint in his eye, chuckled in response. "Read 'em and weep, Xao! Ain't my fault your poker face is worse than a toddler's tantrum," he teased, a smirk playing on his lips.

Xao's eyes narrowed. "Last time you said that, you ended up crying like a baby when your girlfriend dumped you."

The lean man laughed, shrugging. "Yeah, well, at least I had a girlfriend. What's your excuse, Mr. Lonely Hearts?"

Reggie had to squeeze his hand against Frenchie's mouth to keep him from giving away their position, barely suppressing his own laughter. 'Damn it, Frenchie, this is not really the time to blow our cover,' Reggie thought, his eyes twinkling with amusement despite the seriousness of their mission.

Charlotte shot a quick glance over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing in warning. 'Stay focused, boys. We can't afford to screw this up,' she thought to herself, barely suppressing her own growing smirk as she tightened her grip on her weapon.

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Managing to sneak past the arguing duo, they came upon a room filled with crates, boxes, and various items scattered in the darkness. The air was thick, with no windows allowing natural light to penetrate.

The odd sound of a television drew the group's attention to a corner of the room where a cage, resembling a prison cell, stood ominously. The stench emanating from the area made it clear the occupant was not well cared for.

Frenchie, seeing no immediate threat, cautiously approached the cage. His heart sank as he peered inside. The dim light from the television flickered, casting eerie shadows.

Inside the cage, a disheveled woman sat under a table, hugging her knees tightly as she watched the TV, her eyes vacant and haunted.

'Mon dieu,' Frenchie thought, his heart breaking at the sight. 'How long has she been here?' He hesitated, unsure of how to approach without startling her.

Inside the cage, the woman felt emotionless. She had lost track of time, her days blending into a never-ending cycle of darkness and despair. The sound of the television was her only connection to the outside world, a constantly cruel reminder of what she had lost.

Her captors had taken their time to break her spirit, leaving her a shell of her former self. Hearing strangers approaching her prison she thought. ' また罠なのか?また冷酷な冗談?' (Is this another trap? Another cruel joke?) she wondered, barely keeping her body from trembling.

Charlotte and Reggie moved closer, their expressions hardening as they took in the scene. Reggie clenched his fists, anger boiling beneath his calm exterior.

The reality of this scene was far worse than anything he had seen on TV. "We need to get her out of here," he whispered, his voice tight with barely restrained fury.

Charlotte nodded, her mind racing with a plan. 'No one deserves this,' she thought, steeling herself for the rescue. "Frenchie, can you pick the lock?" she asked, her voice steady.

Frenchie nodded, pulling out his tools. "I'll get her out," he promised, determination in his eyes.

"Wait, be careful, Frenchie. We don't know if she's suped up." Reggie stopped Frenchie for the moment, kneeling down next to him and looking at the back of the imprisoned female. He spoke softly, trying to convey calmness.

"Lady, I know that you may not understand me. I just want to let you know that we are not like those people out there. We are on your side. If you wish, we can set you free and help you, maybe even help find your family."

The female, hearing the words "free" and "family," seemed to slightly perk up. '自由... 家族...' (Freedom... Family...) she thought, her emotionless gaze studying them before she slowly moved to a standing position.

Her heart pounded in her chest, a tiny spark of hope and a mix terror emerged swirling from within her. She wanted to believe, but the scars left by her captivity made it very difficult to trust anyone any time soon.

A voice could be heard approaching as Charlotte swiftly turned with her weapon pointed at the entrance. Giving Frenchie the go-ahead, he picked the lock, opening the door slowly to avoid agitating her.

Then a chubby Asian grunt came in with what seemed like a Vought Donald's paper bag before he paused at the unusual sight: two unknown men and a woman with her gun pointing at him standing close to their prisoner.

Blinking in surprise he muttered, "Man, I knew I should've taken that job at Dairy Queen," he muttered which the supes could clearly hear.

The female, upon seeing him, lost all sense of reason. 'またこいつだ!' (Not him again!) Pure Rage ignited as her fury fueled her when she pounced on him with a panther-like leap, clearing the room as she brutally tore into him, ignoring his pained screams.

Each strike was a release of her pent-up anger and torment, a desperate attempt to reclaim some semblance of control over her life.

Hearing the screams echo drew the grunts' attention. Looking at one another, they gathered their weapons and ran towards the prisoner.

The female, covered in blood and panting, paused for a moment, hearing the approaching men. She ran and met each and every one of them, dismembering and mutilating them, pouring her years of rage and torment onto these men who had made her life a living hell.

Frenchie, already astonished, looked at Reggie in disbelief and asked, "You sure you even needed me?" Pointing towards the ongoing carnage, "She's got most of them handled! On her own!"

"Trust me when I say she does, but not physically Frenchy–" Reggie told him before pointing at his heart "but here."

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Calming down with the whole place littered with bodies, blood and entrails covering and painting the room red. Hearing someone approaching, Kimiko prepared herself for more fights to come.

Her body tensed, ready to spring into action, but then she saw Frenchie walking slowly in her direction. His arms were raised in a non-threatening position, his eyes soft with concern.

Reggie held a phone, speaking into it before it started to translate for him. "We mean you no harm, Mon coeur," the phone said in Japanese. "I promise, we came here to rescue you when we found out about the experimentation they were doing. Sorry for coming late."

Kimiko's eyes widened slightly at the sound of her language. She felt a tiny flicker of hope, something she hadn't felt in a long time. She looked at Frenchie, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. He stepped closer, still cautious, and offered her a gentle smile.

Frenchie knelt down, holding out a bottle of water and some food. "For you," he said softly, the translator echoing his words in Japanese.

Kimiko hesitated, her body still on high alert, but the kindness in his eyes made her hesitatingly reach out, accepting the offerings.

As she ate her fill, Frenchie sat nearby, not pressing her to speak but simply being there. His presence was comforting, a silent promise of safety.

Kimiko glanced at him, noting the way he watched her with gentle concern. In that moment, she realized that maybe she would not be alone anymore.

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