Chapter Text
“Dazai, I’m sure you know why I called you here, right? ” Mori’s sickeningly sweet voice made Dazai cringe.
“I’m guessing it’s another mission,” Dazai grumbled. Why was his job so hard? Maybe he should’ve jumped off that bridge he saw on the way here so he didn't have to sit through this meeting with the gross man, who was currently sitting right in front of him.
Mori grinned. Gross. "That's right! We have recently discovered that several scientists have been creating a serum to replicate abilities. It's your job to destroy any serum that you find and kidnap the scientists."
Dazai easily read between the lines. Since it was likely that the scientists would manufacture and sell the serum, It was likely to be used and taken advantage of by other groups or organizations. Therefore, destroying all the serum and kidnapping, or maybe killing the scientists would be the easiest way to ensure that no other organization could ever get the formula to recreate the drug. If they did, they would be able to copy the abilities of many of the Port mafia's members. That would give them an upper hand if they ever came into conflict with the Port Mafia.
"Can't someone else do it? I don't wanna do that today!" Dazai whined as he looked pleadingly at Mori. Mori shook his head and replied, "Chuuya is busy handling a gang that stole some of the Port Mafia’s weaponry and illegal substances, Koyou is busy training Kyoka and Verlaine is currently in England. Currently, only you are available. And no, committing suicide doesn’t count."
Dazai squawked in offence at that! Doesn’t count? That’s just not true! It's obvious a creepy man like him wouldn’t know the joy of suicide! He glared daggers at Mori which he responded to with a smile. He huffed and stomped out of the room.
‘This is so easy!’ Dazai thought gleefully, as he twisted the pistol out of one of the security guard's hands, and shot him various times in the head using the same pistol. ‘The sooner I finish, the faster I can try out that new suicide method! But I do have drinks with Oda and Ango tomorrow, and I don't want to miss that so…’ He thought airily as he tidied up the rest of the incredibly inept guards. It certainly was strange that such a hidden place would hire such weak and useless guards. He supposed they were all brawn and no brains, just like his dog.
Dazai walked through the corridor stained with a new coat of red, occasionally kicking at the dead bodies and sidestepping the corpses that were still gushing blood like a broken tap. He squatted down and picked up the keycard from one of the recently deceased "Akira" to open the security door.
When Dazai opened the Lab door, he was met with a scientist, Robert Heinlein at a simple wooden table.
Robert was a teenager, with messy yellow-black gradient hair let down in long streaks. He was strangely wearing only a casual lab coat a few sizes too small and a T-shirt and pants, and no protective gear. The room was also empty, with only a table and a closet. Maybe the scientist was a minimalist? Well, he read that Robert was a very eccentric guy.
"I've been expecting you Osamu Dazai." The scientist grinned innocently. Dazai had suspected that since the lack of security was certainly just begging for someone to attack the laboratory.
"Ugh, don't say such cliche crap around me. What are you a Mad scientist?" Dazai teased. He fiddled with the pistol, tossing it from one hand to the other, and grinned childishly. "So, two choices! Either, you follow me and give the Port Mafia the formula for the serum, and then die, or you die right now. Both suit me fine, you know?"
Robert grinned back and replied, "Sure! I'll follow you now!" It was uncanny how similar the two of them were. Was Robert copying his personality? Of course, he was! Who wouldn't want to be Dazai?
Dazai smiled back, took out his semi-automatic gun, and opened fire at every single vial and piece of research there was on his desk, or more like a kitchen table. He supposed the Port Mafia goons could clean it up later.
BANG!
Dazai felt a sharp pain in his back. Immediately, he lost all control of his body and fell with a heavy thud. A tranquillizer gun? He started to feel drowsy…
“How impressive… That was enough anaesthesia to knock out an elephant…” A voice drawled. Dazai's eyes darted around until he laid eyes on a figure holding a smoking Gun. That was Robert? Were there two of them? Could he have a cloning ability? However, the report on Robert stated that he had never used his ability. Not only that, but clothes are different.
“Wasn’t my Acting good Robert? I could be an Actor If I wanted to!” A bubbly feminine voice giggled. He recognized that voice! Miyuki Miyabe, Ability, Copycat Killer. She could Copy abilities. So that's how they made the serum!
Robert ignored Miyuki, instead opting to stick out his hand towards Dazai. "Time to dispose of him... Stranger in a strange land " Robert muttered to himself, as he activated a swirling Vortex right beside Dazai's paralyzed form. The Vortex was a captivating shade of dark purple, mesmerizing and almost alive, with tendrils of energy flickering at its edges—its beauty held an undeniable allure that seemed to whisper promises of escape from this hellhole. It immediately devoured the Pistol and minigun that Dazai had and approached its next victim.
Despite the Vortex’s seduction, Dazai remained resolute, his expression a mask of apathy. He was already accustomed to the feeling of the need to escape, the want to leave this wretched and unfair world. Such a weak promise of temporary freedom could not unfaze him at all. He pressed his palms firmly against the cold, hard floor, his fingers digging in as he anchored himself in place. Blood dripped out of his pinky nail, which broke when his finger slipped.
Bang!
A gunshot rang out as its bullet embellished itself in Dazai’s hand—several more shot at him in quick succession. Blood spurted out from the wounds as Dazai let go of the floor and started getting sucked into the Vortex. His vision blurred and he felt overcome with nausea as he felt himself lose a grip on his reality. He decided to let himself enjoy a nice dreamless sleep.
Dazai's eyes snapped open, but the world around him wasn’t quite right. He was no longer in the lab with the ability users. Instead, the air was thick with the stench of decay and rot. His blood pooled around his injured hand and the brick ground was grimy and disgusting. He was likely in an alleyway. Looking up at the sky, Dazai guessed that it should be around midnight.
Immediately, Dazai used his right hand to pick out the bullet which was embedded deeply in his hand and applied pressure on the wound. There he sat and analysed the streets for information. Approximately five minutes later, when Dazai had gotten bored of just sitting around, he tightened the bandages on his left hand and went out to explore the street.
The first thing that he noticed was that he was no longer in Yokohama, or at least most Asian countries. He had heard all of the very few citizens on the streets speak English. He was likely in The United States, due to the distinctively American Accents. Secondly, He was in the slums. It wasn't that hard to figure out, because the streets were run down and most of the buildings in sight were all decaying with weak infrastructure. Ahh, How Nostalgic!
As he stepped into the dimly lit library, a musty smell of old paper and dust filled the air. Dazai sneezed to rid his nose of the itchy feeling when he inhaled the dust. 'Reminds me of how I sneezed into Angos books,' he thought. "He still hasn't found out!" He giggled like a girl who had been spoilt with countless dresses by an old, creepy man. Just kidding, Elise never giggles. There were many huge and towering shelves, many of which leaned precariously as if they might topple over with the slightest disturbance. Just like Chuuya. 'Heh, looks like the librarian did a shitty job. He should be ashamed of him shelve." Dazai tittered. He slithered through the narrow aisles, mimicking a snake, as his footsteps were muffled by the thick carpet that had something icky growing on it. He reached the History section. There was not a single worker or librarian in this dingy place. Was this city so underfunded?
"There we go! Gotham City, History, and Current Affairs! " He read through the book in minutes.
Gotham City. Hmm... Dazai flipped through the book.
This must be in an alternate universe! Dazai concluded quickly. If Gotham indeed had the most crime in the United States, the Port mafia must have at least had some transfers with some syndicates or gangs in Gotham. But, he hadn't ever heard of Gotham.
Dazai sighed. How was he supposed to get out of this one? He snatched the book and left.
Dazai walked briskly through the streets of Gotham, his footsteps making a soft clack against the cracked and uneven pavement, while he clutched onto the book. The amber glow from the few operational streetlights would occasionally flicker in the night, revealing glimpses of forgotten graffiti (like a poorly drawn phallus that made Dazai giggle) and trash strewn about carelessly.
Dazai’s mind raced with the reality of his situation. He had been transported to another world, and he had no idea how to get back to his previous world. Suddenly, a sensation crept over him, a tingling at the back of his neck that alerted him to the fact he was not alone. He was being followed. He detected about six presences. Five of them were amateurs, he could easily sense their clumsy attempts to remain inconspicuous. Their footsteps were too uneven to be pedestrian, their breathing too loud, betraying their inexperience.
In Yokohama, many would run at the mere mention of his infamous title: Dazai Osamu, The Demon Prodigy. A mocking smile curled at his lips. If this was Yokohama, He would not hesitate, to pull out his pistol and execute them on the spot.
But the sixth presence was different. It was stealthy, quiet and inconspicuous. Just like Gin. Was this person trained? A vigilante, likely.
Why don't we test out that theory?
Dazai quickened his pace, feigning panic as his heart raced. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widening in exaggerated surprise as he finally noticed the Thugs hot on his trail. Sensing the shift in his actions, the thugs sprang into action, their footsteps echoing behind him as they raced to catch the seemingly vulnerable and scrawny child. Dazai darted through the streets, each stride taking him closer to the shadowy alley where he had woken up earlier. When he finally reached its safety, he skidded to a halt, leaning against the cool, damp wall, and pretended to catch his breath.
"Well, well, well. What a catch we have tonight boys! A pretty one too." A gruff and malicious voice sounded out behind him. He could practically hear the smirk in the thug's voice. " Didn't Your Momma tell you not to wander at night?"