Katsuko winced and covered her ears, trying to hide her trembling. “You don’t understand--”

The basement door slammed open with a screech of rusty metal. An orderly prowled in, a tall, burly shinobi with biceps wider than Katsuko’s thighs. He was one of the ones whose hands liked to wander and prod at bruises and new stitches, to pin test subjects down when they were too disoriented to resist. Despite herself, Katsuko shrank back.

The man came to a halt in front of Asuma’s cell, beady eyes narrowed in annoyance. “What the hell is this?”

Asuma curled his lip and shoved his hands into his pockets, leaning back to give the orderly a scornful once-over. “Couldn't tell you, man, but it looks pretty unfortunate. Were your parents related?"

The orderly’s expression tightened. “Kaminari doesn’t care if her subjects are injured--she just needs them conscious for her procedures. Watch yourself.”

"Yeah? Well Kaminari sounds like she doesn't have the brains to fill an eggcup, but you're welcome to take your best shot." He smiled, spreading his hands in mocking invitation. "There're people looking for me, stupid. Run along and tell your mama-bear that she's got zero time and a bunker full of illegal prisoners, and she'd better not think of cleaning house, 'cos my friends are not forgiving people. Can you remember all that?"

“Kaoru!” the orderly yelled, voice echoing . “Get the hell in here!”

Another orderly burst in, and, after exchanging a glance with the first, took out the ring of keys to the cell doors. Katsuko watched in horror as they dragged Asuma out into the hall, ugly expressions on their faces. “He didn’t mean it!” she shouted as they hauled him towards the exit. “He cracked his head and now he doesn’t know what he’s saying!”

His hands flickered, scout signing a terse message: All okay. Got a plan.

“Asuma!” She cursed violently as the door slammed behind them, pounding her fist against the bars of her cell. What the hell was that idiot up to?