Chapter 5: Captive

A/N: From here on out, any section that's italicized will represent times when Nishikata is "down under" in the Dreamscape.

Enjoy this new chapter! 

Takagi had never felt more alone, powerless, and terrified in her life. Her bleak expression was a perfect mask for her crippling fear as she put yet another slash mark in the notebook.

She'd lost count of the individual slash marks by now, but she knew the number of them added up to ten years.

Upon completion of her daily sanity-retaining task, Takagi went about to the next part of her morning: preparing a bland breakfast of sunny-side up eggs, flavorless French toast, and unseasoned rice. Granted, it provided her with the necessary nutrients, yes, but that was hardly any consolation for the rest of her situation.

An entire decade of waking up alone in the same house, with the same meals, and the same unchanging weather outside. If you could call it an outside. For it wasn't a typical suburbia that Takagi was trapped in.

It was a snow globe.

A magical, impenetrable snow globe where even when Takagi ventured outside the house that doubled as her golden cage, all she would see was the terrifying lair of Krampus through the glass. Krampus, the demon who had sneered at her when she'd first arrived all those years ago Krampus, the demon who had revealed the details of Nishikata's angry wish with such callous disregard.

And, for the past ten years of her life, would often send his demon-elves to shake the snow globes of those trapped inside just so they could have some entertainment.

Even when the accursed minions weren't busying themselves torturing the residents of the snow globes, Takagi could still hear their maniacal laughs and picture their sadistic expressions as she munched on her plain food. The house itself wasn't that bad, with a small living room, a kitchen with all the necessary equipment, and a large master bedroom upstairs with a refurbished bathroom. Takagi would've been happy to call this her home...

If it weren't for the decorations plastered all over the house that reminded her of the boy who'd thrown her love away.

From pictures of her and Nishikata walking home from school together—involuntarily extracted from her memories via dark magic—to torturous, gut-wrenching scenes of their time together playing on the TV every time she turned it on, there was nowhere for Takagi to hide from the harsh reality of what she'd thought had been wonderful, joyous love.

And the worst part?

Even after all this time, she still couldn't accept it.

Nishikata, the boy who had returned her handkerchief to her on the first day of school. The handkerchief which had been sown by her grandmother before she'd died. And he'd made sure to return it to her!

Nishikata, the boy who would always challenge her to simple, short contests to try and match her teasing.

Nishikata, the boy who had given up watching the season finale of his favorite show in order to walk home with her.

Nishikata, the boy she'd loved.

Him? Wishing death on her like that?

It had to be some sort of sick joke, right? Surely there was some other explanation!

Takagi wasn't sure what that would be. But she couldn't give up hope. After all, it was the only thing she had. No family. No friends. No new memories with the friends and family she'd been separated from for the last ten years. No one to rescue her. Only hope. And its undying, stubborn flame.

Finishing her meal, she washed her plate and sat down in the blue recliner in the living room. She reached for the scrapbook on the coffee table to her right, opening it up to the center pages. The pages that showed her and Nishikata's meeting in the mall...before he had written in Krampus's book.

It was the saddest, most sorrowful memory she could look at. And yet, like a sweet-tasting poison, Takagi couldn't stop herself from looking. Tears came to her eyes, and she sent up the same plea she'd been sending to whoever may be listening.

"Nishikata...tell me it's not true...please!"

Outside, in his lair, Krampus stroked his scraggly beard thoughtfully, plucking out the occasional bug that had worked its way into the forest of unkempt hairs. Christmas was fast approaching, and he already had many reports in his archive. Some of these naughty people had committed especially egregious transgressions...how would he take care of them this year?

He smiled as he stared into the fireplace, occasionally glancing over to admire his Snow Globe collection. He would find new, creative ways to make sure these fools never stepped out of line again. He was Krampus.

No one was safe from his judgment.

.....................................

Kimura sighed with mighty annoyance as he witnessed the visible change in Nishikata's brainwaves on the computer monitor. The good news? The high-tech, state-of-the-art satellite network of the Criminal Elimination Agency enabled Kimura to monitor his old friend's brainwaves, even after Nishikata had entered a target's dream.

The bad news?

Nishikata had obviously encountered a snag while down under.

"Nishikata is having some trouble, isn't he?" Takao spoke up, his dark eyes piercing through his thick glasses to look at the monitor. Another old middle school friend of theirs, Takao was a Satellite Operations Chief and had also worked closely with Nishikata and Kimura on their missions.

Kimura ran his fingers through his short, black hair, as the painful truth of his friend's torment reared its ugly head.

"Yes Chief, it would appear so."

...........................................

Nishikata held his pistol in front of him, not daring to move the iron sight an inch off of its target. A target who was more dangerous than any crime lord, mercenary, or terrorist Nishikata had ever faced.

Takagi.

Or, more accurately, the projection of her created by Nishikata's broken, tormented mind. There had only been one area of the CEA training Nishikata had barely passed in, and that subject was Subconscious Mastery. Now, Nishikata could see why they'd stressed it so much. His own subconscious was interfering with the mission!

"It's so nice to see you again, Nishikata," Takagi teased, pacing around the parking lot. "How is your family? I'm sure they must miss you, you being so far from home and all."

"Shut up," Nishikata hissed, fighting every urge to empty the entire clip into the embodiment of his guilt that refused to die.

"Oh? But I'm not even teasing you," Takagi smiled, unflinching. "I only asked how your family was doing!"

"I know you better than that, Takagi," Nishikata growled. "You're not fooling me. Leave now before I—"

"Really? You know me better? Than why didn't you know me well enough to know I was only teasing you that day in the mall?"

Nishikata froze.

His worst nightmares, his daily torture, his every fault.

All symbolized by this one, single woman standing before him now. Unwavering even in the face of all his strength. Unafraid of his arsenal. Because she had the greatest weapon of all.

The truth.

The truth about his weakness, cowardice, and incompetence in social interaction. Takagi was right. For all of his skill, speed, and physical prowess, Nishikata had never been able to handle some simple, innocent teasing from her.

Nishikata maintained eye contact with her, not betraying a single emotion on his face. As she'd been able to do when she was still alive, though, Takagi saw right through him.

"Just as I thought," she chuckled in a demonically angelic manner. "You still feel like you haven't beaten me. Even after wiping me from the face of the Earth. Truly Nishikata, you amuse me. It's almost cute to see you like this."

Nishikata gritted his teeth, and his muscles visibly tensed up.

"Don't. You. Dare," he replied.

"What are you going to do, kill me? You've already done it once. I will always be alive in your mind, silly little boy!"

That was when Nishikata broke, pulling the trigger five times and sending a swarm of bullets into the projection of Takagi. Despite only being a projection, she still reacted in a human way, crying in anguish and staggering backward as her blood dripped onto the ground. Then, she collapsed and faded away into dust.

All was silent for a moment, until the alarm sounded.

Nishikata swore at himself. Although Takagi was out of the way, he'd neglected to dream up a silencer for the pistol, and now Dennis Grant's mind was alerted to his presence. Any hope of stealth had been gunned down.

Fortunately for the battle-hardened agent, Dennis Grant's subconscious defenses were quite subpar, and Nishikata was a master of Dreamscape Combat. When in a subject's mind, the only limit was Nishikata's imagination.

And he was never afraid to dream big.

Hearing the screams of the Warehouse Guards, Nishikata took control of his breathing and willed his Dreamscape Combat Tech to materialize. This assortment of devices, formed and powered by Nishikata's mind, ranged from Teleportation Beams and Invisibility Shields to rocket boots. Turning around, he saw a trio of guards running towards him, rifles raised. He activated his Invisibility Shield and the battle began.

If one could call it a battle. Moving like a machine, Nishikata weaved in between cars, barriers, and other obstacles as he dodged the guards of Dennis Grant's subconscious and silenced them one by one with his pistols. Running towards the warehouse, Nishikata activated his Thermal Imaging Goggles and noted the positions of twelve more guards.

Sighting in on the nearest one, Nishikata teleported up the fire escape where the guard stood, maintaining invisibility as he stabbed the guard in the chest with his combat knife. The projection of Dennis Grant's mind gasped for air one last time as he crumpled to the ground. Nishikata wasted no time, and kicked in the door to the warehouse. More guards inside turned in his direction, firing off rounds in vain as Nishikata weaved through the storm with little effort.

High-tech weapons with no batteries, strength like that of a wild tiger, and complete victory over criminal scum.

Sweet dreams were made of these.

And if anyone were to tell Nishikata otherwise, who were they to disagree?

Just like he'd done in his previous missions, Nishikata flew through the warehouse decimating the pathetic defenses of Dennis Grant's mind. Whether shooting, stabbing, or utilizing his expertise in martial arts, Nishikata made quick and brutal work of the guards. They were just projections of a criminal's mind, after all. Why should he need to hold back?

Nishikata soon found himself outside the Main Storage Room of the warehouse, wherein he would find the secrets to Dennis Grant's management of his criminal network. In every subject's Dreamscape, a room like this was always an agent's number one target. For rooms like these represented the target's mind, and the secrets it was trying to hide.

Secrets that could easily expose the criminal and bring them to justice.

Kicking in the door again, Nishikata evaded a joint attack from two guards as he grabbed one by the neck while ramming his knee into the stomach of the other. Peppering the guards with jabs and hooks, Nishikata watched with bitter satisfaction as their bodies thudded to the ground. He set his sights on the safe in the back of the room, walking over and kneeling down to inspect the lock.

As expected, the lock was a combo lock. But that did little to stop Nishikata's Precision Laser, another creative tool Nishikata had dreamed up to get past a lock on his first mission. The agent found exactly what he was looking for upon opening the door: detailed documents describing where Dennis Grant obtained his funding, his higher-up connections, and more. Nishikata committed all of these things to memory, and keyed in the Return Code on his wrist-pad.

It was time to return to the real world.

.......................................

Nishikata jotted down the last of Dennis Grant's secrets as the Iowa State Police, SWAT Team, and FBI agents swarmed outside the dwelling. Flashes of red and blue light colored the inside of the house as Nishikata finished returning the PASIV device to its protective suitcase. Dennis Grant, for his part, still lay on the floor unconscious as a squad of FBI agents strode into the room.

"Inspector Allen, FBI," the lead agent, a tall Asian man with a buzz-cut introduced himself. Nishikata handed him the notebook pages containing the vital intel, and shook the man's hand.

"Agent Nishikata, CEA," he replied. "Glad I could help. He's all yours now."

As Nishikata walked away from the scene, he keyed his earpiece to update Kimura.

"The mission has been accomplished and the suspect is now in the custody of our sister agencies," Nishikata reported. "I'm en route back to Command now."

Instead of congratulating his friend for a job well done, however, Kimura addressed a more serious matter.

"Nishikata, what happened when you were under?" Kimura asked.

"Why does that matter?" Nishikata deflected.

"Nishikata, your brainwaves had a pattern of alarm and guilt that were nearly off the charts at one point!" Takao interjected. "What was going on?"

"I accomplished the mission," Nishikata insisted again. "There is nothing amiss. I will be back at Command soon. Agent Nishikata out."

On the outside, Nishikata was stoic. On the inside, he was fuming more than he ever had before. He refused to allow any of his weaknesses to show. No one could be trusted. Especially not with his ultimate goal.

Killing Krampus.

And with Christmas coming up only next week, Nishikata had already formed a plan as to how he would fulfill the next objective in that plan.

.....................................

Santa smiled with joy as his sleigh zoomed through the sky, bells jingling and pummeling snow filling his fluffy beard. His route was almost done! Just a few more houses and he could return to the North Pole, in record time!

Looking down upon the rural Montana residence, Santa guided his reindeer down to the roof which, as he descended, saw was newly refurbished.

"Perhaps one thing on this family's wish list is money to refill their bank account," Santa chuckled to himself as he disembarked from the sleigh.

Utilizing his magic, Santa made his way down the chimney, bag over his shoulder, and soon found himself in the quaint, cozy living room. The scent of ginger reached his ears, and his eyes lit up with wonder as he located the source. A plate of freshly baked gingerbread cookies! How delightful!

He looked around, admiring the humble yet shiny Christmas tree, cute decorations, and other holiday flair. Turning around, he saw that there was only one stocking above the fireplace he'd entered. That was odd...didn't this house have a family of three last year? He stepped forward to inspect the stocking.

That was when the world went dark.

........................................

Santa groaned as he struggled to move his head, and forced his eyes open. Was he done already? Had one of the other Guardians transported him back to the North Pole? He tried to move his hands and feet, but found that he was unable to do so. Perhaps he'd over-exerted his magic? No...he was in a chair. In a warm house! He'd been restrained! Someone was attacking him! That was when he heard the fateful click of a firearm.

Nishikata leveled a pistol to Santa's temple.

Santa gasped in horror as Nishikata stepped around to look him square in the eye.

"Hello, Old Saint Nick," Nishikata said. "I need you to answer one simple question for me."

"Where. Is. Your Brother?"