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Summary
There’s a familiar wild flash to Akechi’s eyes, one Akira is almost impressed he can still pull off in these circumstances. He takes a step closer just to capitalize on his minute height advantage, gaze sharp and dangerous.
“Are you suggesting,” he practically purrs, tone a bit incredulous but decidedly still interested, “that we fuck ourselves lucid, Joker?”
Akira’s throat feels drier than a desert. “It—it’s worth a shot.”
Joker and Crow try to take down the Reaper alone. Things don’t go as planned.