Description: A series of murders surround the signers with all of the victims circling back to Yusei. The only clues are a broken duel runner and another ancient dragon. When Yusei is kidnapped, will the rest of the gang be able to find him in time? Character deaths. Drama, action, suspense, tragedy. Multi-chapter.
Rated: T for cursing, some violence, and character deaths.
Couples mentioned: minor JackxCarly, KalinxAkiza, TrudgexMina
Beta'd: NO ONE
Setting: Just after the defeat of the Dark Signers and the King of the Underworld before the start of the second season.
A/N: Welcome…to The Mimic and to Nanowrimo November 2015! This story was inspired by a…well, I don't want to spoil it just yet. But, I think the title will kinda say it all. So, this story will be updated every Tuesday, with the next one being the 10th. That is, unless…this story is the most reviewed of the week? If you want an additional chapter next Sunday as well, review, review, review before Saturday at 11:59 EST. After then, no more reviews will be accepted for that week.
So, on that note, on with the story!
Disclaimer: Credit for Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's belongs to Masahiro Hikokubo and Masashi Sato.
The bar had been quiet for several hours, even with Harold making his usual visit until well after three. By the time Sanderson was ready to close, he would be leaving the joint just as dawn broke.
The chairs were mostly stacked on top of the tables, the rest piled in the corner to be scrubbed off the next day. The fire had been put out from the worn fireplace with only the cinder burning low enough for Sanderson not to freeze while wiping down glasses behind the bar. So far, the only other sound than from the quiet sizzling cinders was from the loud whistling from the cool air outside.
Sanderson quietly wondered to himself about what else he had to do before heading home to his soft bed and warm tea kettle. For the most part, he mused, everything was pretty much set. As his brown eyes scoured over the remaining components of the room, he happened to glance over the darkest corner of the wall behind the worn and scratched armoire housing his late wife's favorite china. Ah, he mused, there was something else he needed to do.
His favorite portraits and photos deserved a thorough cleaning after being neglected for nearly a month now. Sanderson quietly let the rag in his hands drop as well as gently setting down the weathered beer mug onto the old bar. He grasped a drier, fairly newer rag from underneath the bar storage and quietly traversed over to the corner.
The floor creaked underneath his thick boots, but Sanderson paid them no mind. Instead, his eyes remained fixed on the corner. The old light switch over the photos and trophies was unusable now, but Sanderson knew just exactly lay in the corner for him to dust. Old portraits of his daughters and infant son, along with one of his beautiful wife on their wedding day. He remembered her white dress covered in lace borrowed from her mother and how the lilies sparkled with dew from earlier that morning when she had picked them. He also remembered how devastated they had been to lose their infant son so early in his prime, and how hard it had been to live for fifteen years without his better half.
Sanderson also remembered how his three girls never made him feel like he had lost a son. He briefly allowed himself a chuckle, thinking of how Masako's duel runner garage in the city had nearly tripled in size from when she had first started, how Rin's boxing studio had become so popular with the boys down the street, and how well Shina and her husband were getting along with their own bar in town. The table was decorated with old birthday cards, presents from his daughters when they had been little, and drawings made by his precious grandchildren.
Sanderson then moved his gaze over to another, more recently treasured photo. He chuckled briefly, seeing the image in his mind's eye without the aid of the light above him. It was an image of himself, younger but only slightly, with his hand draped over a young boy of no more than eight in clothes built for a boy much larger than himself in a regular black shirt, faded blue jeans, and old work boots that had once belonged to Sanderson's daughters. The boy was beaming at the photographer, a big toothy grin despite having just lost two baby teeth earlier the week before. His dark blue hair stood out in all directions, but with gold highlights that spread out toward the young boy's ears. The boy's eyes sparkled, holding up Sanderson's old treasured Duel Monsters card. It was his birthday.
Sanderson chuckled once more, his finger running over the glass. The dust smudged and he could see the beaming grin on his younger self's face as well as the youth. He made a mental reminder to himself that it was probably time to take those clippings on his desk and bedside table at home and put them into the album beside this table like he had been planning to for weeks. Yusei's prowess these past few months certainly deserved such recognition.
Sanderson sighed and put the picture back. Now was not the time. He needed to hurry up and get home to feed his cat before the poor thing starved. He dropped the photo back into its proper place and went about his cleaning, ignoring the various trophies and medals decorating the darkened portion of his table. The layers of caked dust and grime were better off staying where they were, lest Sanderson get any foolish ideas about what their allure could do to him. He was an old man now, and should act as such.
The door briefly rattled against the wood doorframe, making Sanderson jump. He clutched a hand to his chest, willing his heart to slow in his chest. He was definitely not a young man anymore.
He shook his head, slowly returning to his task and brushing off his precious memories one at a time. When he was finally done, he stepped away and threw the old rag over his shoulder. It had been a while since he had heard from Martha, he realized. Maybe it was time to give the old gal a call, if only to hear about his favorite helper from years back. Sanderson snorted as he passed the old bottle crates littered around the floor by amber-filled glass bottles, and remembering quite a few funny moments of watching a little boy struggling to carry them across the restaurant.
The door rattled once more, but Sanderson ignored it this time. The wind had shifted late yesterday morning, bringing in the heavy threat of snow and ice. The meager customers Sanderson managed to keep over the years would probably not even leave their beds at home, so he could safely say that he would be closed tomorrow as well.
Sanderson was shocked to hear heavy, slow footsteps trailing from the door into the main space behind him. "I don't know if you saw the sign, son, but we're actually closed right now," Sanderson called out, shuffling around the boxes in front of him.
"Aw, way to give a man a rude welcome Sanders. I thought for sure the great champion of the city would be more receptive to a guest in his crappy bar."
Sanderson froze at the chiding tone from the mysterious stranger that was now perched on one of his worn bar chairs. He didn't move as glass clinked with the stranger making himself at home, grasping a glass and an amber bottle from behind the bar. "Then again, I suppose a great champion who spends his days living in squalor shouldn't even deserve to have that title if he's so easily beaten by a stupid brat. And then to even hand over his most precious card?" The stranger barked a cruel laugh that had Sanderson tensing. "Isn't that right, Slifer Slacker?"
Sanderson sighed at the old nickname. "That man died a long time ago. I don't know who you think you are, kid, but if you don't leave my bar within the next five seconds, we'll see how long it'll take this old man to throw you out instead." He barked out, chancing a glance over his shoulder.
Long, thin white fingers tapped along the edge of the chipped bar while the other curled languidly around the miniature glass. The owner laughed again, the sound high and menacing. "Oh, please. If you could, you would have done so already. Give it up old man, I think you know what I'm after."
Sanderson frowned, turning his back on the stranger. "Anything you want, just take it. I don't keep anything of value in this bar anymore. That story has ended."
"Oh, believe me Sanders, this story…is just the beginning."
It took a minute for Sanderson to figure out the hidden meaning, but when he did, it felt like a million bricks hitting him instantly. His hands froze, the rag and jug he was holding crashing to the floor.
He whirled around, as fast as he could move anyway, and glared at the stranger shrouded in the darkness of the bar. "You will never get your hands on it! You think I'm foolish enough to give up the only thing strong enough to stop Satellite's Shooting Star?!" Sanderson spat, wishing desperately that his eyes were more adjusted to the dark. "You will never, ever get me to hand over that card, even if my life depended on it!"
"What about the life of your precious Yusei's?"
Sanderson stopped short, freezing as the boy's name rolled off the stranger's lips. The stranger, seemingly thrilled that he now had Sanderson's full attention, leaned forward, layering his arms across the scratched bar top. "Since you're starting to see what I mean, let me make it abundantly clear to you. Nothing will keep me from what I need, and you should trust me when I say that you are not the only thing keeping me from it. Yusei Fudo is a pathetic wimp, and the only thing I'm going to be doing is showing the world the loser that he is." Pearly white teeth stretched into a large grin under the candlelight. "So just save yourself the effort and hand it over."
"Never."
"Have it your way then." The stranger reclined, stretching his forearm out and revealing a large, black tattoo of an ornately designed dragon with the wings stretched outright. Sanderson's eyes flew open wide, his blood running cold. "We have a duel. I win, I get your card. You win…" His lips curled, fingers tapping along the bar top once more. "Well…if you win, maybe I'll tell you what I'm planning on doing to the hero of the city before I kill him slowly and in front of those stupid people he hangs around with."
Sanderson's eyes narrowed at the man in front of him, watching the fingers dance in a steady, thrumming beat that somehow seemed to match the heartbeat sounding under his ribs. He could feel his life flashing in front of him, with the rolling in his gut matching his fighting instincts. His eyes briefly glanced over to the corner, remembering the sweet boy immortalized in the photograph and realizing that he could never let anything happen to Yusei if it was the last thing he did.
"…Fine...get your game on."
TM
Tetsu Trudge yawned, his jaw popping as it stretched. He flinched, eyes skirting around to the rowdy police room. All of the other officers seemed engrossed in other jobs so he relaxed.
Reclining back in the plush leather chair, he regarded the rest of the room. Most of the new recruits and rookies were hard at work catching up on the tipping paperwork stacks that were taking up various desktops across the room. He himself had finished all of his paperwork already, leaving him pretty bored with his current circumstances. After everything that had happened with the Dark Signers and Goodwin, Trudge was looking forward to some simple, peaceful times in the city.
He sighed, reclining further into his chair and closed his eyes. Trying to keep his breathing steady and even, especially when thinking about the resurrection of the King of the Underworld, was growing more and more difficult every day. The presence of the signers and the almost activation of the old Ener-D Reactor in the Satellite had infected everyone in the population, not just in Trudge's nightmares. Not a day didn't go by that a Security officer wasn't asked to walk a resident home at night. He could only envy those citizens who had had no clue that it was their own beloved Director was behind it all.
Trudge's brown eyes flew open. He was delving into morbid territory, and the only best way of resolving that was if he dove back into work.
Trudge had resumed typing for several minutes before he sensed that someone was standing in front of him. "I'll have that report on the D-Wheel accident on the 23rd in just a moment, sir." He answered mechanically, not really willing to hear another lecture from his boss on the importance of completing his paperwork on time.
"Oh, Officer Trudge, that's actually not what I was wanting to talk to you about…" A soft, yet confident voice floated over his laptop screen making Trudge freeze. Only one person had that soft lilt to their voice that could make Trudge melt.
Sure enough, when Trudge lifted his head, he was staring into the dancing honey-brown irises of the ex-secretary to Rex Goodwin. He felt his face heat up when she smiled her usual calm smile, especially when he saw her shirt collar was riding a little lower than normal, exposing more of her well-formed chest—
Trudge coughed and attempted to stand from his chair in greeting. Attempted, meaning that Trudge only succeeded in banging his knees against the underside of his desk and nearly knocking his cold coffee all across his laptop keyboard. He stumbled, trying to catch the cup before it ruined the computer and ended up nearly breaking his toes on the leg of his desk chair in the process.
He stayed bent over the desk for a moment, trying to calm his heart rate and breath for now another reason, before looking up to meet the gaze of Miss Mina Simington, who now looked about ready to burst out laughing at the display. "…Hello Mina."
The blue-haired woman allowed herself a small giggle before biting her lip and regaining her self-control. "Good afternoon Officer Trudge," She finally said, her voice evening into the usual cool and unemotional tenor. "I hope I didn't interrupt you in the middle of something."
"No, no, I was, uh," Trudge stuttered. He felt his face growing hotter by the moment. "I-It's nothing. H-How are you today Mina?"
The petite woman beamed. "I'm doing very well now, if I may boast. I've actually been promoted to Special Investigations Chief, official today." She remarked with pride.
Trudge gaped. "That's wonderful Mina!"
She giggled again, a slight pink dusting her cheeks. "It certainly was a surprise," She admitted. "But I was undaunted. It's going to be a better step in my career and a lot of responsibility."
"That's for sure." Trudge couldn't help but be envious. It was the sort of promotion that any officer worth his salt coveted. It meant full-access to the most specialized and secretive cases that meant the threat of the security of the city. "You'll be a great fit for the position. Congratulations."
Delight sparkled in Mina's eyes at the compliment. "Thank you," She answered, her voice dropping to a shy, quiet pitch. "I have a lot of growing up to do to catch up to Mr. Atlas."
Trudge felt his stomach twist, the sudden memory of Mina's confession to the aforementioned Atlas back before the dark signers nearly destroyed the world flashing in an instant before his eyes. He barely held back the choke that threatened to spill forth as he remembered her heartfelt words to the blond duelist.
Instead, Trudge managed to school his face into a gentle smile. "He is a lucky man to have you then." He hated himself for preening under the warm, grateful smile she gave him in return.
"I'm so glad you said that Officer Trudge," Mina continued. She redirected her attention to the stack of manila folders in her arms, shuffling through them and plucking one out. She plopped it onto his desk. "Because here is our first assignment."
Trudge blinked, looking from her to the folder and back. "'Our assignment?'" He breathed, mouth open in shock. "D-do you mean…?!"
Mina winked at him, stealing his breath again. "I can't handle this job by myself, and the higher-ups said I could choose my own assistant. You were the first person I thought of. And plus," She teased. "I thought you might be tired of desk duty."
Trudge blinked, touched at the sentiment. "I'd be honored," He stated, picking up the file from the desk. "But only if you call me Tetsu from now on Mina."
She chuckled and shook her head. "The victim's name is Lenny Uryu. He was found at the sewage treatment plant in the city at 3:18 this morning."
"The sewage treatment plant?"
"Yes. Apparently since the Daedalus Bridge is still under construction, Uryu was attempting to escape into the city—"
"Pulling a Fudo, huh?" Trudge couldn't help snidely remarking. Though he was now friends with the Satellite youth, he couldn't help but be upset with his past self for being unable to keep Yusei from following the rules. His cheek twitched underneath the long jagged scar stretching across his face and Trudge resisted the urge to scratch it.
"Apparently so. The remains of a duel runner was found not too far away from the body. He must have been engaged in a turbo duel—"
"Did you say 'body'?" Trudge interjected. "Are you saying Uryu is dead?"
Mina nodded. "The coroner said he'd been dead for at least three hours, supplying the theory that he was escaping through the sewage line at midnight like Mr. Fudo did last year. He seemed to have been mid-duel when he passed."
"…That can't be right."
"Hmm?" Mina looked up at Trudge quizzically.
"Well, duel runners are specifically designed to keep running until the end of the duel. It's only when a winner is declared that they shut down, generally to allow the victor a victory lap. Duel runners were never meant to be street-raced, you know." He explained.
"They weren't?"
"No. They were only supposed to be a form of showy dueling, almost like an entertainer," Trudge continued. "Some punk figured out that the strength of a monster could amplify the output of an engine, and managed to create a street model. After that, illegal duel-runners started popping up everywhere.
"The only fail-safe that Sector Security was able to exploit was that fact that those illegal duel-runners still operated with that auto-stop after a lost turbo duel. Sector then developed chase vehicles for us out in the field to apprehend the criminals." Trudge shook his head with a wry grin. "And now, we're implementing new policy to include construction of zones for turbo duels. Times sure have changed."
Mina quirked a smile. "So then…by that logic, Uryu should have crashed after he lost the duel, not during. What could possibly cause a runner to malfunction like that?"
Before Trudge could answer, Mina's cellphone that had been lying innocently on the counter until now lit up and began to buzz. The blue-haired woman picked it up, her face growing stern and terse as she answered. "Simington." Mina listened for only a moment longer before she ended the call. She stood up immediately, gathering her paperwork and belongings in a rush. "Another murder," She answered in response to Trudge's concerned stare. "New Domino Penitentiary."
Trudge frowned. "What makes them related?"
Mina paused. "Nothing. But he used to be the warden until ex-Director Goodwin removed him for harassing the other inmates, including Yusei Fudo for a time."
"Fudo again?" Maybe there is something there," Trudge muttered, standing up and gathering his jacket. "I'm coming with you."
Mina shot him a warm smile. "I had hoped you would say that."
TM
New Domino Penitentiary used to house over two thirds of the population of the city and Satellite combined. Though its numbers had thinned considerably, there were plenty that would be spending the rest of their lives in the cells. Many of them hadn't seen daylight, let alone a female in a long time. So when they saw Mina pass by their cell doors, it took every ounce of strength that Trudge possessed not to knock their stupid teeth in like breath mints as they hooted, hollered, and reached for her.
Others, however, were more fearful in their pleading, begging to be released away from the "cursed" cell along their block. Upon further investigation, Trudge had discovered that another prisoner from out of the country had "cursed" the deceased prisoner after the former had attempted to humiliate him shortly before his confinement.
Takasu Armstrong was much better looking than Trudge recognized from his mug shot. Apparently, time in the prison had done him enough good to melt off at least fifty pounds to make him lean, sculpted, and menacing. His large, pointed beard had been meticulously trimmed to a manageable shave and his older, larger clothes had been traded in for torso-hugging shirts and pants with a thick leather belt. Trudge and several of the other investigating officers were also tripping over the various pieces of workout equipment cluttering his tiny cell room.
The cell was compact, but still roomy. It was originally intended for two people to share, but apparently Armstrong had never gotten another roommate. If he had, there was no other sign that they had been present for long. The walls were covered in yellowed, marked over news pages and pictures as well as the occasional picture of the same half-naked woman from a popular TV show.
Sparse other knickknacks decorated the miniature shelf over the toilet as well as a large poster of Dark Magician Girl—nearly coming out of her costume, Trudge noted with another blush—covering a large portion of the back wall. Everything else seemed ordinary, except when Trudge looked over the bookshelf and discovered a bookmark sticking out partially from one of the few books decorating the bookshelf. It was brightly colored with orange and blue but indistinct enough for Trudge to look at it more closely.
Trudge chuckled, walking over to one wall littered with pictures of Yusei and his friends, including several articles about their part in saving the city from the dark signers. "He looks good with a mustache," the officer remarked pointing to the included picture of Fudo where Armstrong's favorite activity was doodling over the image in deep, cobalt ink.
Mina rolled her eyes at the remark before kneeling next to the body. "All his things accounted for?" She questioned.
Trudge glanced over the room, made up of two empty bunk beds, four walls with newspaper clippings, and gym equipment. "…I assume so."
"Never assume," One of the Security officers remarked. When all eyes turned to him questioningly, he simply pulled the large poster of the duel monster back. The occupants of the room were shocked to see a tunnel about five feet wide and seven feet tall into the stone leading down into a dark abyss.
"We measured it out," The officer continued. "Armstrong was nearly to the surface of the city with this tunnel. Couple more months and he would have made it. And that's not all; there's the bones of a very rudimentary duel runner at the bottom."
"So Armstrong was gunning for revenge," Trudge concluded. "All that's in here seems to point to that, the duel runner's only part of that."
Mina frowned. "…I don't know," She said at last. "Something still doesn't seem right. If he was going after Mr. Fudo for revenge, then something stopped him. And now, we need to know what." Mina clapped her hands together. "Gather everything in here and remake it back at headquarters. We need to know what happened to Armstrong and his killer and the best way to do that is get inside their heads. And I mean take everything." She ordered, looking completely in her element.
Trudge resisted smirking, settling for impressed instead of amusement. "Is there anything you can't do Mina?"
She rolled her eyes at the sentiment. "Mr. Fudo is a member of the city now. If there is any possible threat to his life, it's now my responsibility to make sure it's taken care of." She turned and moved to walk out.
Trudge laughed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "If the worst he's facing is an inking face-mauler, I might've signed up for the wrong job."
Mina's floating laughter from across the cell made Trudge grin and lightly jog to catch up with her.
A/N: Read and review