It didn't look like he would have a way to get out of this one. The dead had risen, or at least that was what he was told: a criminal was on the loose and was making puppets out of deceased victims of the collapse of the medical institution. Shinbatsu did not like the sounds of it. It was disrespectful of the dead, however, and, as such, attending to it was hardly even a choice.
Choice. What was so special about being able to chose? The shopkeeper contemplated this question as he dodged sweeping claws coming at him from one of the puppets that had been described in his mission statement. If he could capture this criminal, lay him down, conduct surgery on his brain and remove the willingness to commit crime, would that be a bad thing? Certainly not! The man would be driven toward good, and nobody would have to worry about him killing, robbing, or vandalizing anymore. So what he couldn't make the choice for himself? That was the point of surgery in the first place: he couldn't make any good choices, so they'd operate to make sure that if he couldn't make choices anyway, at least what he'd inevitably decide to do was not the wrong thing. Shinbatsu thought about this as he spun around the mannequin and traced the chakra string to its source, and before long his knee met with the face of the criminal he was here to put an end to. All the puppets dropped. For a moment, everything was quiet.
When Tarou woke up, he was in a dimly lit basement. Where exactly? He didn't know. He looked to his left, and to his right, and found that his arms were strapped down. No matter, he thought: he removed his left arm and brought the knife he had under it toward the other, intending to saw it off, when something grabbed his shoulder and halted his action. The Mannequin shut his eyes. He was in real trouble.
"You are here for an experiment. I am going to operate on you, and you will be healed.", he heard the voice of a man say. Healed? Healed of what? "Let me go. There's nothing wrong with me." "Even if I didn't operate, I'd turn you in for a bounty, you know. There might be something I can do for you." It dawned upon Tarou that he'd been captured by a bounty hunter. There was no use resisting now: he was dead anyway. "Do for me? What could you possibly do for me?" There was a silence. The silence lasted longer than The Mannequin appreciated. He started sweating, and nerve was getting the better of him. "Hello? What? What can you do for me?!" After a moment of silence longer, the man spoke again. "Choice. I can rob you of the gift of choice."
Later that day, a corpse was sent in to the morgue: Tarou's face had been badly disfigured, and the rest of his body had done itself in. The mission was complete. The Tower would be bothered no more.
Choice. What was so special about being able to chose? The shopkeeper contemplated this question as he dodged sweeping claws coming at him from one of the puppets that had been described in his mission statement. If he could capture this criminal, lay him down, conduct surgery on his brain and remove the willingness to commit crime, would that be a bad thing? Certainly not! The man would be driven toward good, and nobody would have to worry about him killing, robbing, or vandalizing anymore. So what he couldn't make the choice for himself? That was the point of surgery in the first place: he couldn't make any good choices, so they'd operate to make sure that if he couldn't make choices anyway, at least what he'd inevitably decide to do was not the wrong thing. Shinbatsu thought about this as he spun around the mannequin and traced the chakra string to its source, and before long his knee met with the face of the criminal he was here to put an end to. All the puppets dropped. For a moment, everything was quiet.
When Tarou woke up, he was in a dimly lit basement. Where exactly? He didn't know. He looked to his left, and to his right, and found that his arms were strapped down. No matter, he thought: he removed his left arm and brought the knife he had under it toward the other, intending to saw it off, when something grabbed his shoulder and halted his action. The Mannequin shut his eyes. He was in real trouble.
"You are here for an experiment. I am going to operate on you, and you will be healed.", he heard the voice of a man say. Healed? Healed of what? "Let me go. There's nothing wrong with me." "Even if I didn't operate, I'd turn you in for a bounty, you know. There might be something I can do for you." It dawned upon Tarou that he'd been captured by a bounty hunter. There was no use resisting now: he was dead anyway. "Do for me? What could you possibly do for me?" There was a silence. The silence lasted longer than The Mannequin appreciated. He started sweating, and nerve was getting the better of him. "Hello? What? What can you do for me?!" After a moment of silence longer, the man spoke again. "Choice. I can rob you of the gift of choice."
Later that day, a corpse was sent in to the morgue: Tarou's face had been badly disfigured, and the rest of his body had done itself in. The mission was complete. The Tower would be bothered no more.