(lv.)

The Sensei walked down the stairs, into the basement.

He could faintly hear Frank whimpering, and calling out to anyone who would listen.

"Hello? Is there anyone there? Seriously, hello? I haven't actually done anything wrong. It--"

Frank stared at the cinder block wall. He paused.

"I didn't actually do anything. It was Lor. She's the one that kidnapped me. She found that body. She carjacked that ice cream truck. She's the one you want to talk to. I don't really have anything to do with this. I mean, okay, fine, maybe I'm a witness, but that doesn't mean you have to arrest me fo--"

The bars of the cell collapsed, and, in the shadows, stood a lone figure.

"Wetherill? That's you, isn't it?"
"I-- you-- how--"
"If you had bothered to become a ninja, you could just as easily have freed yourself," the Sensei declared, haughtily. "But nooooo. You had to go and sell the cars that the clan was named after. Bite the hand that feeds you."
"How is that--"
"Don't argue with me, boy. I'm the Sensei, remember?"



[chapter lvi.]