arachnophobia || feitan portor

unusual conversations with unusual suspects - 14

a/n:

tw; mentions of death, slight violence

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The strong scent of citrus cleaner and bleach filled the stark-white halls, lit by the bright, buzzing fluorescent lights which were fit snugly into the ceiling. The sound of business shoes tapping against the white linoleum floors echoed as the sound of a door swinging open flooded the occupied corridor.

"Mr. Lazarus! It's great to see-"

"Sit down." Bryce was quick to close and lock the door behind him, straightening the edge of his navy suit before walking toward the black office chair sat at the head of the long, dark chestnut-colored conference table.

"We've already had one run in, the troupe was with her at the time." One informant spoke up, flipping through a few papers.

"Why was she with the troupe?" Bryce asked, crossing his left leg over his right, resting his folded hands on the table.

"We're still working on that, but our current informant says she is no longer in contact with them, it appears they had some sort of contract but she had terminated it." Another person spoke up.

Surrounding the large table sat a group of employees, with personal informants that fathered information on people, business, and much more. Each individual at the table currently was gathering information on you.

"Why on Earth would she do that? Surely the troupe knows better than to just let her go." Bryce cackled, amused by the thought that you'd gotten away from the troupe.

"Other sources say there had been altercations between a few nen users and others outside of F/n and the troupe. It's possible that the troupe wasn't entirely focused on F/n at the time." The same person spoke.

"Interesting. Is our current informant still in close contact with Miss. F/n?" Bryce asked, a devilish smile spreading across his lips.

"Yes. They're scheduled to continue to gather information for another week, do we need to shorten this time frame?"

"Sure, let's spice it up. I want her in by tomorrow night." Bryce stood up, signaling the meeting was over.

"Will do sir, I'll get in contact with our client." Another person spoke and waited for Bryce to step out of the room before everyone else dismissed.

Bryce jogged down the hall toward his own personal office and unlocked the door, slipping inside.

Taking a seat, Bryce sorted through a folder on his desk with dozens of photos of you. He'd been watching you carefully since your first encounter, and he was very curious. But now he knew why.

"So you're searching for daddy's killer. What a hero." Bryce groaned, tossing the photos to the side. He spun around in his chair and sifted through some files on his computer, pulling up the record on your father and uncle.

"What kind of family dynamic is this? Your own brother robbed you blind of thousands of dollars and you were killed in his spot. How tragic." Bryce spoke monotonously.

Opening up a few other files, he pulled the camera footage from the night your father was killed. Rewatching the scene, he could see the horror on your face as your father's life was taken right in front of you.

The drops of blood that had splattered and dripped down your cheek only made Bryce grin more.

That night, Bryce Lazarus had broke you.

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Asu was using the bathroom while you served yourself some lunch. Roky had ordered food for the two of you and had dropped it off on his way to the bar.