Instead of getting a constructive introduction session that expected of the room, one of the women began crying, and the same arrogant woman from before began speculating that their entire situation had been some random act perpetuated by the Japanese Mafia. Then she asked if he knew anything about them, which was hilariously coincidental, seeing as the Yakuza had been an obsession of his for a while now.

“The Yakuza? I mean, yeah, they’re rich and powerful, but this is just crazy, even for them. Those two in the back just fuckin’ popped up! Kidnapped people don’t just come out of no where like that. This can’t be the Yakuza. I wasn’t even wearing that coat before I passed. And I’m still wearing the same clothes I passed out in, just like all of you.” He said, noting everyone’s bloodied and torn clothes, and holding up his torn and blood soaked shirt.

“Not to mention, force fields? This isn’t the work of some sort of syndicated criminal organization, and I have my doubts about any government hand in this. This could be something beyond our comprehension..”

He stepped back a bit, thinking a bit. “Could their be any connections between us? I assume all of we know Japanese, and seeing as we’re in Tokyo, or at least appear to be, we must all be Japanese nationals.” He looked at the two white women again. ‘Er, Japanese citizens, at least.”

Before he could continue speaking, the laptop chirped the life, warranting the entire room to turn their head in attention. A picture of a girl was on screen, barking orders at them, and the threat of their head exploding if they disobeyed. She confirmed they were dead, and that they all belonged to her, Cell. She opened the box revealing weapons the likes of which he had never seen before, along with some sort of skin tight suits.

He stared at the now quiet computer, that had a picture of a man they were supposed to kill, and the box, full of the strange equipment. One of the white women stepped forward, and grabbed a gun, expressing that she wasn’t taking any chances. He could share that sentiment.

“We’re dead, and now we have to kill someone? Holy shit.” He murmured to himself, stroking his chin.

The women who had been crying before, stood, trying her best to cover up with her burnt clothes. He remembered he had heard about a fire during the day  in the office, but nothing much else. It would be a long shot to say that that woman would be from that fire, but Takeda wouldn’t be surprised otherwise. The woman grabbed a suit, examined it, and went towards a door, opening it and walking through, to the surprise of Takeda. He walked over, and opened the door, seeing what was on the other side. It was a hallway, with a closet at the end. No closer to getting out of the apartment.

Takeda went back to the room to check out his own suit, as it appeared that there was one in a specific size for everyone. The girl that had been in the pillows had gotten up, and held hers up, commenting how she preferred dresses. Takeda gave a silent smirk, and walked up to the back to grab his own suit, digging through the others, until he found on that seemed to be his size.

“You don’t think I’ll be able to get my suit in this do you?’ He joked meekly. He tried to put it on, hoping that it would stretch around his current apparel, but it didn’t distort at all. It was meant to fit only one shape, and it appeared to be his naked body. He could feel his face warm up a bit, thinking about undressing around all the women in the room, but he didn’t want to show his shyness.

“Well, I guess we’ll take turns in the closet eh?”