A/N: Written using the prompts in table 009 at promptcentral (at livejournal). Each chapter – and I use the word tentatively because of their nature and length; they're more superdrabbles really – will use a different prompt.
In the Sky
Prompt #001 – Skyscraper
Jack opened the sliding door with one hand and it bounced a little at the force: the only sign of the threshold's existence as he stepped onto the balcony. The cool spring breeze carried with it the scent of paper, rubber and various artificial fragrances he could easily identify by name – if he felt himself so inclined. He didn't though; there was never a hint of freshness in that breeze, even when he stood on the balcony on the top floor of the second largest building in Neo Domino City.
The "Tops" was what people in the city called it. It was the place where the best of the best lived, those whose faces were constantly plastered on billboards around the city and who could barely walk onto the streets without attracting the attention of some fervent fan. And they rarely did; they glided through empty nights, flashing past in the time it took for any straggling eyes to catch their vehicle or their face. Security was the only other thing on the streets at that time, but they lurked in the shadows while the stars shone.
The days wherein he didn't have a duel scheduled – and even afterwards on days he did – got pretty boring though. He could take to the highways if he could convince his overbearing manager, but he wasn't particularly in the mood for inferior verbal sparring. He could take a walk…if he desired to be crushed by an overenthusiastic mob of fans – which he didn't. He could order a cup of coffee and flick through the channels, except it would be a waste of his time. He could recite the programmes from memory if he had to, and rewatching the moments in which he crushed various nameless faces got pretty old and worthless after a while.
He leaned against the railing, a small scowl forming as he watched little specks wander the street below. If they ever looked up, all they would see was a skyscraper aching to touch the sky. Perhaps some would see the end-point of their aspirations – as he had once done, looking towards the city of towering buildings from the dregs of Satellite.
It was almost funny how he couldn't see Satellite from the top floor of the tallest building in Neo Domino. It was only from the harbour that the unofficial garbage dump was in view, and even then it was an image clouded with the ever-increasing blanket of smoke. In comparison, the view from Satellite had been crystal clear; he should know. How long had he spent, staring across the water to the utopia he aspired for but had been out of his reach?
Well, it was beneath his feet now, that utopia, and it seemed he had reached the end of the rope. The breeze whistled into the silence, playing some pre-scripted song without a tune, and he listened because, really, what else could he do? His deck was perfect; he defeated his opponents now all too easily. There was no challenge, no driving force except to hear the monotone cheers that erupted with the force of a rice cooker. He was perfect as well: the perfect duellist, the perfect idol, the perfect bachelor. The only thing he wasn't really was perfectly content. Restlessness was starting to seep into his muscles and joints; he could feel it, itching across his shoulder-blades and back and cramping his legs.
He was reluctant to act upon it though. There was nothing in the streets to make a walk upon them worth his time. There was no activity in which he could partake that would give him something he wanted in return. He wasn't a believer in meaningless endeavours; even staring out into nothing was a better alternative than wasting time in activities that would accomplish nothing.
Except it gave him time to think, to think of Yusei and Crow and the other – friends? Could he call them his friends? – he had left behind in Satellite. Think of the old days where nothing had ever been a waste of time, or space; where everything one could get their hands upon was salvaged, brought to their niche and transformed into something spectacular. Where the days ended with all of them covered with grime, oil and the sweat of hard labour, but with satisfaction sitting upon their chests.
Team Satisfaction had been a very appropriate name for them. The Sultan of Speed…well, he was slowing down now, wasn't he?
He lifted a hand to rub the base of his neck. At first it was a listless gesture, but he put a little more vigour into it as he noted the stiffness that came from remaining so long in his slumped position. As he loosened the knots he straightened as well, giving the self-programmed utopia one final glance before heading indoors.
He couldn't even say why he had visited the balcony in the first place. Would the world suddenly change overnight, transforming into a glamorous face with roads twisting to adventure? Unlikely, and if it was adventure he craved at the end of the day, he would have stayed in Satellite instead of crawling through the door to the other side.
He didn't regret it. And he as sure as hell didn't miss it. He had everything he needed after all; he could live without the dash of spicy flavour.
He wasn't a fan of hot foods anyway.
The sliding door inched slowly shut behind him, shutting the damp breeze – and unwelcomed thoughts – outside in a little ornament box until he opened the lid again.
