Submission

by JacksRightHand

Summary:

Ever wonder where Katagawa Jr got his information from?

At the foot of the ladder descending into his improvised pleasure pit, Katagawa stole a moment for himself, tipping his head back to watch the hatch close and seal firmly overhead. He lowered his gaze to his hand in disgust, then retrieved a bottle of disinfectant from the breast pocket of his suit jacket, dispensing its contents onto his palm to effectively cleanse his skin of traces of the Calypso Twins’ touch. He thereafter tossed the bottle aside, deactivated his oz helmet, and began to remove some clothing.

His tie was the first to be shed, discarded to the side without a glance for its trajectory. His jacket was afforded a little more care, hung carefully on the back of a chair. As he gently guided it into place, his father’s chastising voice crackled in the back of his mind – rebukes regarding admittedly careless wrinkles in his school uniform from a decade back, for which he could hardly contain his sneer. He took the flash of frustration out on a nearby spent pleasure ball, kicking its useless bulk across the floor before inhaling sharply to calm himself and slick his hair back into place with practised fingers.

At last composed, he turned his attention to the only other person in the room. His guest sat motionless – possibly unconscious or listening intently – lashed to an uncomfortable chair. His chest rose and fell calmly, but his forearms did twitch slightly with restrained anger, the only hint of insight into this surprising gift.

Stepping toward him, Katagawa assessed the bag over his head with a grimace, hesitant to pluck away what appeared to be a flour sack stained with dirt, blood, shit, or some troubling combination of the three. He could not even determine whether the foul smell came from it or the bandit himself. Regardless, the Twins had delivered him for a reason, so Kat was unfortunately inclined to make use of him in one way or another.

The bandit jerked slightly, blinking in the harsh overhead lighting as the bag was torn away. He certainly looked how Katagawa expected: shabby clothes, piercings, a permanent sneer. His facial hair was rather sad, but despite the shaggy blonde chin curtain, underneath the grime, bruises, and smattering of lacerations left weeping from the assault that brought him here, there was a potentially handsome man.

Truly a shame, then.

He watched with suspicious, narrowed eyes as Katagawa lowered himself onto his knee. Kat pulled a device from his pocket and slipped it under the bandit’s knee to guide it along the flesh of his thigh, loop it around, and fasten the clasp atop his leg. Allowing it to simply hang in place, Katagawa nodded his approval, then rose to his full height, scanning the bandit’s ever hostile mien.

“Do you know why you’ve been brought to me?”

A curt exhale through his nostrils was his immediate reply, as he eased back in his seat. 

“Haven’t a clue. Don’t really give a shit, to be honest. I’m guessin’ you’re supposed to be someone important?”

Kat ignored the insult of his question, and the slice of a headache that accompanied it, to casually press fingertips to his lapel, just aside the bold corporate branding pinned in place.

“I am Kichiro Katagawa. Junior,” he appended late. “I am the Head of Mergers and Acquisitions for Maliwan. As well as Admiral of–”

“You’re a department head?” the bandit interrupted him with a snort. “And you’re here to, what… torture me? Why would you bother getting those soft hands of yours dirty?”

A sardonic grin twisted across Kat’s features. “I often get my hands dirty.”

The bandit, unshakable, immediately groaned. “Oh, yeah, tough guy. All the blood of your posh rivals nicely dried beneath your primly groomed fingernails, yeah? I’m shaking over here.”

He wasn’t. Obviously. And his lack of concern was beginning to get Katagawa’s goat.

Then the device on his leg clicked. The thin, blunt wire lining the inside of the steel contraption was drawn tighter – by mere millimetres, but enough to briefly catch his curious gaze. It was still loose enough that Kat could slide a finger between his tattered jeans and the bite of the device, but before long, its presence would have the desired effect.

“Why I would bother,” Kat hummed lowly. “Is because I am the Head of Acquisitions, as I already mentioned. And this is a mere bullet point on my list of to-dos for the day.”

The bandit sank back minutely. However, the desired effects of Katagawa’s reply were wasted, as he merely looked Kat over, then dared to smirk.

“Cute,” he breathed. “But I’m guessing you only ever get to try that out on your fellow corpo stooges, huh?”

Something throbbed in Kat’s temple, next to his company branded ECHO-Eye. “I–”

“Can we get to the point? Or was I kidnapped and my bar ransacked just for some suit’s shits and giggles?”

“I just wanted to have a little talk,” Katagawa neatly folded his hands behind his back. “About Rhys Strongfork.”

The bandit sat up, his eyes widening in understanding. A sneer followed; an evasive gaze.

Kat could’ve purred. “So you are familiar with him.”

He chewed a little on the inside of his cheek, but made no effort to deny the accusation. “I guess.”

Katagawa dithered, turning his head in assessment of the small space. The isolation, compounded with the small fleet of bots awaiting his command outside, was meant to set a definitive tone. A reminder — Katagawa was in command. Between the severe isolation, the delicious power imbalance, and the crushing suggestion of the device slowly ticking away on his limb, the atmosphere was carefully crafted to induce the perfect amount of fear to coax stuttering admissions.

Or at least, that was the intention.

And yet, his gaze did not worriedly dart toward the device. There was no sheen of sweat on his brow. No heavy thump of his trembling heart.

Only his brow quirked with change – tightening in furrowed, close scrutiny of Katagawa’s studious leer. Hatred, clean and delicious, but ultimately useless.

“You,” Katagawa straightened, chuckling loosely. “Are uniquely Pandoran, aren’t you?”

His expression shifted with derision. “S’ a dumb observation.”

Katagawa’s smirk lengthened, only maintaining a slight curl. “I suppose it is.”

He reached forward and gently gripped his chin, stroking a pinky through his dumb little facial hair.

“But I’ve unfortunately met a fair share of bandits,” he went on. “More than my share. And you…well, you’re not the mindless, raving lunatic I expected you to be.”

“We aren’t all psychos,” he sneered back.

“A good thing for you.” Katagawa leaned closer, hovering with his lips near his ear. “I don’t have the patience for useless things.”

A small fwip signalled the tightening of the device.

And the bandit still did not flinch. In fact, the filthy little fucker dared to yawn in his face.

A ripple of fury found its way up Katagawa’s spine. While he wouldn’t allow himself to be rushed, he certainly wasn’t rich on time, either. His invading forces had only just begun to gain a foothold in Meridian, and the Calypsos had vaguely mentioned the possible threat of some band of vault hunters on their tail. When they had offered to bring him some Pandoran scum who apparently somehow had history with Rhys Strongfork, the prospect of a nice and short torture session was meant to be cathartic.

This was not turning out to be that.

Katagawa stepped back, looking him over anew.

“You do understand that you will die here, if I’m not appeased? Slowly, mind you. Your leg is just the first thing I will be taking from you.”

“I don’t expect anything will appease you,” he snorted. His expression drew blank, almost demure, and he huffed slightly. “‘sides. Doesn’t seem like a bad place to die. Least I got to see Promethea.”

“How sweet. Little baby Pandoran’s first time off planet.”

“Fuck you.”

“C’moooon, shit stain. Are you really telling me you’d willingly sacrifice yourself for Rhys?”

“It’s not about him,” he insisted with a growl. “It’s about you entitled assholes thinking you can walk all over people like me.”

Katagawa acquiesced, lifting a leg to set his shoe straight onto the bandit’s thigh and the device still attached. The bandit’s lip lifted with a snarl.

“So he and I are on a level playing field,” Kat chuckled. “Well. Except that he isn’t the one who had you violently abducted and locked up in his pleasure pit.”

His face rippled. “Pleasure?–”

“So just tell me what you know about Rhys, mmkay?”

“Knew,” the bandit spat. “Past tense. Freaking years ago. I don’t exactly do business with the guy.”

“Ooookay,” Kat drawled, unimpressed. “So then tell me what you knew about him.”

A beat passed as he considered; he continued to chew the inside of his lip, then rolled his head a bit, an eyebrow raised.

“Dude likes frogurt?” he shrugged. “Whatever that is.”

Katagawa straightened slightly. “...frogurt.”

“Bagels, too, I think. Those are the boring donut-like things, yeah? And he’s got a weird thing for water parks, which I really wish I had never learned.”

“This is…” Kat palmed his face. “A fucking waste of time after all.”

“Duh,” the bandit scoffed. “You really think I’m gonna give you anything, when you haven’t even made an offer in return?”

Katagawa balked. The audacity. He rocked his heel on the device a tad, in confirmation that it was still in place. Perhaps a change in tactics wouldn’t hurt, then.

“...right,” he chuckled oddly. “So…what. Money? You want wealth?”

“I don’t want your cash, you trust fund nepo hire.”

His best efforts were effectively dashed with those words, as a searing hot sensation flashed through Katagawa’s veins. The muscles in his chest rippled, a reflexive tension that spread out across his shoulders, down his arms, clenching in his hands. His eyes sharpened, brows settling low with a snarl, and his lips drew back over his canines.

“Listen carefully to me, you genetically degraded mongrel,” he seethed into the bandit’s face. “I was twelfth in line to succeed my father. Do you know what that means?”

The bandit didn’t answer, going still.

“It means that I had to fight,” he went on with a scraping hiss. “Any ounce of praise, any mere glance of interest, I had to struggle for. I spent years under that man’s boot, toiling in a line of opportunistic, cowardly, two-faced siblings, and all I have to fucking show for it is Mergers and Acquisitions. I fought. I fought, and I maimed, and I had all eleven chucklefucks ahead of me reduced to ash by the flick of a siren’s wrist.”

He settled his hand on the bandit’s knee, squeezing tight in opposition to the device.

“I’ve finally learned that nepotism and a name, even as lofty and prestigious as mine, mean nothing if there’s someone between you and your goal. And right now, guess who that is?”

“...me.”

“Bingo, sport. Luckily for you, I’m still coasting off that delicious high of watching my backstabbing family go poof, so I’m feeling generous. But there’s just one last thing that I need that would just be the cherry on top of this familicidal cake.”

The bandit shifted beneath him, unmoved by his monologue, but thankfully discomfited by his proximity. “Atlas.”

Kat nodded. “So all you need to do is to give me ooooone little weakness. And not only will I let you go, unharmed, but I’ll set you up for life. And more importantly…”

He ran his finger along the device, which seemed to react under his touch, tightening a tad more snuggly around the bandit’s thigh. Creases were beginning to form in the material trapped beneath its shape; bruises were no doubt beginning to form beneath. Another few millimetres, and lacerations would follow.

When Katagawa made eye contact again, the bandit held it carefully.

“I will personally guarantee that your sad little corner of Pandora is untouched by the COV shit storm that is about to rain down upon it.”

And there it was. The bandit’s eyes widened ever slightly; his lips parted and shut. Were Katagawa to reach out and press a finger to his throat, he no doubt would have felt the hitch in his heart rate as his breathing hastened.

“You’ve no doubt seen it already. Towns burned. Civilians sacrificed.”

He swallowed hard.

“Yours is untouched so far, I believe. Hollow Point, was it?”

Fwip. Another few millimetres.

“We don’t need to be enemies, buddy,” Katagawa insisted. “All I need is–”

“A weakness,” the bandit finally spoke again, a quick exhale of held breath. “Yeah. Well. Rhys has a lot of ‘em. In this case…it’s probably his friends. Or lack thereof. But…”

“But?”

“This guy…well. Weak is not the word I’d use to describe him. Let’s just say that much. He…”

Kat edged closer, salivating.

“A name, bandit,” he murmured. “That's all I need.”

When he hesitated this time, it did not spark Kat’s ire. The bandit shifted, his gaze flitting between Kat’s eyes, down to the device, and back.

Finally.

“...Zer0,” he hissed. “He’s called Zer0.”

Katagawa’s grin extended, his teeth bared. The name was familiar, but only faintly.

“And who is Zer0?”

“Vault hunter. One of the guys who killed Handsome Jack, back in the day,” he shrugged. “I dunno… maybe you can buy him out? Vault hunters and loot, you know?”

“...perhaps.”

It wasn’t an idiotic suggestion. Vault hunters were notoriously nonchalant about the contracts they took. If he could somehow convince Rhys’ ally to wear the Maliwan colours, dominating Atlas could be as simple as striding into Rhys’ office.

How delicious that would be. Katagawa would relish the look of betrayal on Rhys’ face, the shift from realization, to understanding, to fear. Oh, how he demanded the feel of that look contorting under his palm. It would all culminate in that beautiful moment, the idea of which had possessed him and driven him to align himself with those disgusting Twin Gods (of whom he would soon after make a quick disposal). Kat nearly moaned softly at the thought of it alone.

The bandit reminded him of his presence with an awkward clearing of his throat; Kat levelled him with a look, offering a small smile.

“I guess you aren’t as useless as I expected.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

“No. Truly. I’m indebted to you,” he breathed, ducking toward him to grin. He unhooked the device from his leg, but allowed himself to linger. “Thank you, August. Good doing business with you.”

“...yeah” the bandit grunted, eyeing where Katagawa’s hand returned to rest on his thigh. “N-no problem.”

Notes:

This was a companion piece with Soltemuse's art for the Border[line] Zine.

If you subbed to me looking for Rhack, blame Solte. But don't worry; I have more on the way.