Disclaimer: The characters, story etc. of Persona 4 belong to Atlus.

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It's got him.

Caught him to him, like a snickering flame. It had been licking at his ankles for as long as he could remember, making him snort in anger and kick his feet back at it, curse at its invulnerability – when he was always there, taking all its blows as he did.

He fell, couldn't move; he felt like he should be able to get out, manipulate this world – after all, it was his. He had thought of the vast, twisted landscape – they just called it "the TV", childish as they were – as his all along, a gift given to him for a reason he had no interest in… this power. The world around him now felt constrictive, even though it was as warped as he had expected, unknowingly to him, created in his image. Why? Why had it got to him?

He'd learnt that life wasn't fair right from the beginning. He'd never been given what he needed, never mind what he wanted, had had to take what he could find and make it work the best he could. How could it be that anyone would look down at him again for twisting it to his will – they had been given their life on a platter, and they passed their pathetic judgement to him?

Above the law… it was the feeble excuse most criminals built their actions around. It was beyond pitiable. He lived in law, worked with it – they were bound down by it just like anyone else. The only reason most criminals escaped the judgement assigned to them was because of the pure idiocy of the police force… the whole world. He had never thought himself above the law. He was under the law, a shadow – he had no idea how ironic that term was, of course – and that was the truth of it.

Why, then…? It had got a head rush, the first time it won, got one up on him. It should have given up while it was ahead… he had thought. Now, he was the one to fall, at a stupid mistake; not to pass it its just recompense – he should have been harsher. He thought what he'd done had been enough.

Finally, a light flashed… a dizzying feeling, that one that had filled him with a violent lurching. He was only kept from being thrown to the ground by the many hands that seized him, ugly, searching hands that grew and grew, grabbing at him. He wanted to lash coldly out at it, remind the beast that it may have endless limbs but he was cleverer… it was too late.

They were in… it was laughable, but he had hardly any breath left and his amusement came out in a heaving, gasping snarl. He saw flashing, feeble and frightened eyes recoiling at the sound, felt hands tighten around him painfully. They were back in that ridiculous chain branch he only ever visited when Dojima ordered him to find coffee that better suited him. He spat in it. More flashing, of course, and the beast handed him over. As long as it didn't touch him any longer. No more.