Grand Theft Mango (Takeda)

[Akira Nakajima]

Now, anybody and everybody that was well within their right mind and didn't have some sort of morality stick jabbed two feet up their rectum enjoyed free things. That was just a simple fact of life: The best things were the free ones. Usually, anyway. Often times, the phrase “you get what you paid for” applied. However, when it came to media, free stuff was the best stuff, usually because it was acquired for free, rather than simply being free. Akira was no stranger to putting on a figurative eyepatch and sailing on a sea of ethernet and radio waves to find things, if he happened to be short on cash or just wanted a good demo. That said, free physical goods were always great in his book. He could just back them up if they were worth keeping. If not? Bribing goods with certain parties around the school.

Anyway, the crossdresser had every intention of cashing in on the offer that Takeda had made during the first major battle that the Users had come together for- the battle of the bulging Grim Squeaker, which managed to blow himself up. Good times, good times. It wasn't until after the Schoolgirl Slasher died, and they all drank (and he learned he couldn't get drunk, much to his chagrin and despair) that he made a definite note to come by to the Mangamax installation and get free crap. Takeda assured him the offer was good, so long as it wasn't Sunday and wasn't after four. Good news, since he was popping up at about three-thirty on a Saturday. Amazing timing, really. Though it was planned, so it couldn't quite be called “timing”.

”This is a stick-up!” The boy in drag declared in a forceful, but still feminine, voice as he slung the door open. He had checked beforehand, but nobody else was in. All he had seen was the redhead. Barging in, he then just smiled. ”Just kidding. Did I scare you?” The crossdresser asked with a sweet smile as he strolled further in, completely at ease. He just did something completely ridiculous, but he did not appeared concerned or apologetic at the least. No, he did it for amusement and to see how the redhead would react.

While he was dressed casually, he still dressed well. A black blouse was his primary layer for a top, though the body of it was hidden by a gray vest. The sleeves of the blouse reached to his wrists, free of the sleeveless vest. His skirt utilized a pattern of diagonal criss-crosses of red and black. They reached almost to his knees, and his thigh-highs, naturally reached well up into the forbidden depths of the skirt. His black pumps finished the ensemble on a darker note. He had to hope he didn't dress too well. It'd be bad if some weird otaku-pervert tried to stalk him. Not that he would know about that type of person. At all. Nope. Nosiree.

”I hope your day has gone well and not-boringly.” He finally offered as he stepped up to the counter, just smiling and pushing his glasses up.

[Takeda]

Riiiiiiiiiiiin-Thud

Always the same damn thing ever since Seiji had bothered buying him one of the old metal alarm clocks, there was no silencing the freaking thing, in comparison to the plastic ones he could just toss up against the wall and break. There was no denying that the red-headed clerk was far from a "Morning Person". Every day save for Sunday, it was the same oft repeated routine, the daily grind...well, at least the phrase was accurate, for to the middle-aged man residing within a forest of beer bottles, going to work was indeed akin to putting his face right up against a grindstone and sanding down his face until there was nothing but bone. Slowly lifting himself to a sitting position upon the couch, Takeda leaned in to place his hand on his forehead, staring down at the leftover bottles from the night before like he was trying to piece together evidence on one of those shitty American investigation shows. The night before had been spent entirely in his apartment, downing enough cheap beer to ensure that his liver was down for the count, and now he was paying for it with the mother of all hangovers. Thankfully today, it was a bit overcast, meaning that his troublesome enemy known as the morning sun wouldn't be beaming directly into his eye sockets today upon waking up...time for work.

With a headache that one would often associate with having a god damned brain tumor throbbing in his skull, Takeda made his way through the forest of beer bottles, getting ready for his day job as a clerk at one of Mimoza's cheapest shops. Putting on a shirt, some ratty jeans just for the purpose of getting out during the morning, the guy made his way outside to pluck clothes right from the line in the cold morning air, moving to his apartment with the speed of a snail on bath salts. Getting dressed, showering, nah, none of that was the bad part, even with the horrid headache, or the general feeling of nauseousness that accompanied one of his late-night binges. Stepping down those wooden stairs after locking up the apartment, he thought about the one thing that made his hangovers even more unbearable than the physical pain...them. Once he made his way behind that counter, he was anchored down to listen to the stories of the obese, the greasy, the unappreciative, the dullards...every fucking asshole that thought speaking Japanese to a Japanese person without knowing the language at all other than from their anime, those assholes. The people that ran through Manga-Max day in, day out, talking about kaiwaii this, uguu that, they were enough to make him think of going postal, more than once.

Going through the motions, the sarcastic little quotes, the smiles that none of the customers could ever really tell were so fake that they'd make circus greasepaint grins look realistic, the clerk was looking forward to closing time, to another night of binge drinking, thinking about what exactly was going on his life, and maybe a barfight. Those were always fun. Especially at Lian's. With his hand up against his head, his eyes bloodshot to hell and back, the middle-aged man listened carefully to some fellow with glasses standing in front of the counter, placing down some eroge that he claimed he was just into for the story...ugh. "See, it's perfectly fine since they're not really related, and-" "Thirteen fifty." Takeda wasn't having it today, oh no, not another story about how cute something was, or how it was okay since it was animated. Fuck that. Putting the money down on the counter with a somewhat startled look on his face, the portly, bespectacled white man pulled back the video game case, and left after getting his change. It was near the end of the work day, nearly four o' clock...god, he could leave soon! Takeda looked up at the old glass clock for a moment, practically counting down the seconds as some stupid j-pop played over the store's radio, before he heard a voice.

"This is a stickup!"

"Aim for my head, please. Make it quick."

Turning his head towards the new arrival, Takeda was just about to pull the usual meet-n'-greet routine wherein he'd call someone a piece of shit in a language they didn't understand, before he noticed that the person who barged on in was...well, holy shit, it was the girl from a couple of nights ago. "Lady, you are about as threatening as a quadraplegic kitten." he spoke out in a somewhat more light-hearted tone than the one he had been taking with his customers all day...truth be told, it was rare for him to run into anyone from the circle of persona users while he was on the outside, so a familiar face, one that wasn't covered in pimples? Holy shit, it made his day. "Little fancy for a trip to Mimoza, don't you think?" he said, referring to her clothing, before looking up at one of the security cameras...no audio pick-up, that was the best part. "Anyway...yeah, look around, find what you want, knick it. Just give me a little moment here..." he moved under the counter, timing it carefully with the movement of the camera so that he could move into the back room without trouble. A flick of a switch, and lights out...he moved back behind the counter, leaned over it to prop himself up, and let out a sigh of relief. "It's been boring as fuck, but, it's nearly over. You?"

[Akira Nakajima]

The redhead simply requested to have his head blown in quickly? Well, that certainly spoke volumes for how bad the job must have been. Or his life. Or both. It could really go any number of ways. He had had half the mind to tease Takeda. At least, he did up to the comment on being like a kitten. In what he felt like was justified indignation, he puffed his cheeks out, glaring at the man. A kitten? Quadriplegic, on top of that? The redhead had an imagination on him! And that was good. Despite his outer show of pouting, he was actually quite amused. It also showed that he wasn't taken too seriously outside of the whole Shadow-busting gig. Which, in its own way, was good. It just opened entirely new worlds of fun.

”A girl has to look good, no matter where she happens to be going. Besides, if I go out to see someone, I want to look at least a little good.” So he had overdone it a bit. Oh well. What was the worst that could happen? Takeda seemed like a nice enough guy, all things considered. And as far as otaku went, Akira knew the average strength of one. He wasn't too worried. If they really came to bother him, he would be sure to give them attention. Ever in the region that they'd have hoped for. It just wouldn't be anywhere near the kind of attention they were hoping for. Well, for the most part. One or two might have enjoyed his divine judgment. Either way, the boy just obediently nodded and watched as the man headed off to the back. Probably to kill the camera he just gazed up, or something, the crossdresser figured. With a slight laugh, he shook his head at the answer he got. It must've been the job that made Takeda so ready to die.

”Well, I can say my day hasn't been that bad, fortunately. I can empathize, though. I've had days where having it all end could have been preferable to sludging through something unpleasant.” Case in point being the discussion for repairs to the auditorium. Fuck that. ”I just organized some things and notes, played around for a bit, then decided to come and check on my favorite clerk in the world.” He winked playfully. In truth, he did most of his shopping online, and he didn't really consider maids as clerks, so it was a pretty accurate statement, all in all. The boy crossed his arms, thinking for a moment. Well, there were plenty of ways to help a boredom-sufferer.

”Ah, but if that's the case, I have two questions. One, just how much can I sneak? Two, if your work is almost done, how about we go have some fun together?” He let the words sink in for a moment, just long enough to let the man develop some bad double meanings, before giggling. ”I mean, it's probably been a while since your lunch break, right?” Yes, he intended to inspire bad thoughts. He then went on to clean it up. That was just the sort of imp that the crossdresser was.