Disclaimer: Until they come busting down my door and demanding it, I ain't sayin' it. *sticks out tongue*

Author's Notes: Well, I was listening to some songs from my favorite band ever (not Bush or Bauhaus, surprisingly), the Eagles. And I realized how much two songs represented my favorite character and what he's been through in his life. No, it's not Seto, or Jounouchi, but the guy we all love to hate (or, in my case, love to stalk), Bandit Keith. So, if you don't like him, don't read. You can even just skip through the fic and flame me if you want. I need a good laugh. o^.^o

WARNINGS: Rather dark, mention of alcohol use, drug use, HINTED sex, and all the stuff your mommy said you shouldn't do.

American Eagle

Chapter One: Hotel California

On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair,

Warm smell of colitas rising up through the air.

Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light.

My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim,

I had to stop for the night.

            "Bandit" Keith Howard's vision blurred slightly as he swallowed the last of his sixth beer. He was in a dimly lit, rather unheard of bar in downtown New York, his home. He'd been frequenting it and every other place that sold alcohol for a low price ever since he had lost a duel to Pegasus J. Crawford, who, in his opinion, was an overly rich, stuck-up cheater. He never lost unless someone, other than himself, cheated.

There she stood in the doorway;
I heard the mission bell
And I was thinking to myself,
'This could be Heaven or this could be Hell'
Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way
There were voices down the corridor,
I thought I heard them say...

            He purred quietly as a young woman with short brown hair straddled his hips, giving him a sultry look. He didn't even remember her name, or if he'd even gotten it, but that didn't matter. In these kinds of places, your name, how old you were, or what you'd done never mattered. The only thing anybody cared about was if you were attractive or if you had money, the more the better. He ran his gaze over her almost completely bared figure, lips curving in a lustful grin.

Welcome to the Hotel California.
Such a lovely place,
Such a lovely face.
Plenty of room at the Hotel California.
Any time of year, you can find it here.

Her mind is Tiffany-twisted, she got the Mercedes bends.
She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys, that she calls friends.
How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat.
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget.

            Time blurred and passed, and Keith found himself in a bedroom with a young man in his arms, his hair as black as the night around them. To him, it didn't matter if the person he was with was a man or a woman--if they were a good lay, that was all he cared about. He smirked slightly and kissed the slender youth fiercely, pulling him closer and slipping his hands beneath his shirt.

So I called up the Captain,
'Please bring me my wine'.
He said, 'We haven't had that spirit here since nineteen sixty nine'.
And still those voices are calling from far away,
Wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to hear them say...

            He yelped a little as he was tossed out of yet another bar, after only his fifteenth drink, nonetheless. Completely unfair, in his opinion. He slowly got to his feet and began to stagger down the cracked sidewalk, looking for a place to either pass out or get some more to drink. He passed by some rather scruffy looking men and one scantily-clad woman on his way, blinking slightly at the small circle they had formed. He smirked dazedly when he saw the needle being passed between them. If he hadn't collapsed against a wall at that moment and passed out, he would have joined them.

Welcome to the Hotel California.
Such a lovely place,
Such a lovely face.
They livin' it up at the Hotel California.
What a nice surprise, bring your alibis.

Mirrors on the ceiling,
The pink champagne on ice
And she said 'We are all just prisoners here, of our own device'
And in the master's chambers,
They gathered for the feast
The stab it with their steely knives,
But they just can't kill the beast

            He smirked slightly as he pocketed yet another unknown fool's wallet. Didn't they know not to wander around places like this at night? He nudged the unconscious man with his foot, then quickly turned and walked away. He didn't fancy the idea of a police car passing by and catching him 'accidentally' stealing his credit cards.

Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
'Relax,' said the night man,
We are programmed to receive.
You can checkout any time you like,
but you can never leave!

            Lately, his life was almost a list of how not to live. Drugs, drinks, and sex occupied all of his time, and if he'd taken the time to think about it, he was going down a very bad path.

            However, during one of his more sober moments he was looking through what little mail he got. After tossing away a few bills, he blinked when he found a completely blank envelope, opening it cautiously. Inside were a few cards, and a small letter, reading simply 'This tournament may give you a little something to do, though I doubt you'll win it'. Below that was some information on something called 'Duelist Kingdom', and that was all. Other than a familiar logo for Industrial Illusions in one corner, there was nothing to identify it with.

            'Hell, if it's a chance to get my revenge on that long-haired weirdo, I'm takin' it!' he thought with a slight growl, smirking as he slipped on the red glove that came with it. This just might turn his life around....

~Owari~

Next Chapter: Desperado. Slightly less dark, but with some shounen ai.