[ The voice is muffled behind an office door. Akechi waits patiently, dressed in a tan coat and holding a silver briefcase. He looks younger, face softer, his stance and body language only a little less self-confident. As he waits, he fidgets with the clasp of his briefcase. He looks almost worried, unsure.
A woman walks over, heels clicking on the floor—she's an assistant, and she regards Akechi with something close to disdain as she opens the door. Akechi walks in, and the door silently closes behind him.
Sitting behind a desk, papers neatly organized on the surface, is a bald man with a goatee and orange-tinted glasses. He's reading a piece of paper, and it's several moments before he deigns to lower it and regard Akechi with something close to disinterest. Akechi smiles politely, and waits. ]
How can I help you?
I understand you have big plans for this country. [ The man raises an eyebrow, but he doesn't stop Akechi. ] I have skills that can be very useful, Shido-san.
And what could a fifteen-year-old possibly offer me?
[ The memory fades, in and out of other ones. Akechi, face hidden by a black mask, using Loki to murder people inside the Metaverse... And weaved in and out of the memories is a distinct feeling: hatred. ]
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