Nope, Didn’t See a Thing

"Ey, moron I'm home," Shibuya called having taken off his shoes at the stoop of their apartment like a normal person. No second pair of boots or the respectable shined shoes he wore for tax purposes. Fucking heathen.

"Yo where are you? Is dinner on this time?"

Sure it happened to be his own turn but that was hardly the point. "Hey come on answer at least. You said I could expect you home tonight. No more trouble."

Flinging his bag on the couch Shibuya set to work on finding that deadbeat older brother of his.

Peeking in one hall, all dark. The doors still locked. Else they would be spread ajar in rapid succession. Turned into an impromptu office and negotiator party.

And to the right was another hall, this one shorter and with a wall connected set of stairs leading to the upper atrium.

Here was just one door. Made of steel and with a wheel to turn it open rather than a knob. Better yet, the probe was red indicating much like a porta potty that grisly business was going on.

Shibuya was more concerned with having katsudon after a soul smashing day at high school with annoying sheep and uptight moralizing freaks.

Grinding open the room had been transformed, each and every dirty skeleton out to see. Stolen jewels and oddity necklaces and brooches, counterfits of artwork or were the ones in the Mass Swiss museum the fake ones? And better yet the torture slab all nice and pretty with a hero tied to it.

A hero with dazzling silvery eyes wide and begging for rescue. Or, just to not be seen.

"Shio!" his brother squawked, making a frightfully ridiculous deep, raked coals of a voice. "What-- what are," clearing off the pretense, "you doing?"

"Its five, school is out and I have no social life."

Was said pointedly. To no one in particular. Really.

"Oh right, right," he replied, "mmm okay I can leave this for--"

"Forget it. I bet you forgot groceries anyway or made the dumb decision to go out in that cosplay you call a "villain suit," and now this poor kid had to work extra hours before his keepers let him go home," he scoffed, "honestly. Besides, you never make the katsudon right."

Not to mention the big bad Walking Death had awkward conversations with the stove.

"Hot as fuck for you Takada?" Shibuya asked.

"Of course. You're an angel you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah, oh and I'll crack open that awful mac and cheese for the guest."

"What the-- no!" he finally spoke. And here Shibuya had been led to believe constant villain attacks had left him brain dead. "Help me out of here! He's the one wrong here and can't even bother to greet you each day which wow--"

"Tired now. Goodbye. Oh and no desert for either of you."

And Takada crumpled.

Shibuya simply closed the door.

Nope, didn't see a damn thing.