Hello everyone! I've had a busy few weeks and little inspiration, so I haven't been writing much, but this idea has been plaguing me for a little while, so I'm trying it out. I PROMISE I'll update it regularly, so long as I have plenty of encouragement. *hint hint* Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own YGO, its characters, plot, etc. Only this story is mine.
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It was an unseasonably cold night; I'm seldom distracted by unimportant details such as the weather, but my thin jacket did little to protect my skin from the harsh, frost bitten wind. I'd packed little for my trip to Sapporo, and in hindsight, a winter coat would've been highly useful. Still, I had to focus on the mission at hand.
I traveled on foot to avoid anyone recognizing my car; the press would go crazy if they knew the kind of deal I was planning to make. It had been nearly ten years since I'd left Kaiba Corp., and since then, I'd been trying to keep a low profile. Sure, it had been difficult to detach from my old life; I kept only a private bank account open and nothing else with my name on it; I had none of my old fortune or luxuries, but it was all worth it, to protect my current whereabouts.
I squinted through the thick sheets of ice covering every street name; I was trying to match a building with the address I had scribbled on a candy bar wrapper. When I finally found the place, I was surprised it was still standing; the building was nothing more than a vacant shack, nearly caving under the ice and snow. I knew it wouldn't be as simple as walking in; as I approached the door, I did so carefully, with my hands visible but face well hidden.
Three times, I tapped on the door, paused, then tapped a fourth time and waited until a man peaked through the mail slot.
"You hear about them rats?" His voice was thick and raspy after years of chain smoking.
"I'm the exterminator," I replied.
I heard the clank of the deadbolt releasing before a fat, dirty looking man greeted me in the doorway. As I entered, I resisted the urge to grimace at the smell of stale smoke, alcohol and vomit. I knew exactly where to go; without hesitation, I headed toward the basement. I'd been given strict instructions to ignore everyone on the upper floor and go downstairs; the man I was meeting hardly ventured outside of the basement. Sure enough, there he was, sitting in a chair under the only hanging light in the room.
"Welcome, Seto Kaiba," he curled back chapped lips to reveal stained teeth. "We've been waiting for you."
I was not so curt as to smile; I simply nodded. "I have what you asked for."
In my hand was a leather briefcase, containing around 3 million American dollars; it was not my personal money, but rather a fund I'd kept available should the need arise. I had made arrangements for an assassin; it had taken me well over five years to even locate the underground business, and then an additional year to convince them to make a deal with me.
The man in front of me reached for the brief case; carefully, he opened it and inspected several stacks of money before smiling a smug, greedy smile.
"The man we've arranged for you is the best in the business, as per your request," the greasy man assured me.
I nodded in approval. "When can I meet him?"
"We typically keep the identity of our businessmen private-"
I quickly interrupted his sentence, "if I'm to pay such a large sum of money, I will insist on inspecting the quality of my product, as I do with any business deal."
I refused to allow the mobster to lead me around by my nose; as an experienced businessman, I'd long since learned the diversion tactics used in negotiation. Naturally, I wanted to meet the man everyone around this city seemed to know so well, yet couldn't tell me his name.
The worn looking old mobster cleared his throat and stood from his chair; the sound of his polished leather shoes clacking on the cement floor echoed through the empty room. The quietness of the warehouse was eerie; I was sure the isolated location of the building was no accident, nor was the soundproof windows. As I peered closer at the walls of the room, I could make out a raised splatter pattern under the top layer of paint; I didn't want to imagine how many people had lost their lives in this room. Just as I shuttered, my train of thought was broken by the creaking sound of rusty door hinges and two muffled voices engaged in conversation.
"What is so urgent you had to get me out of bed? It's a damn miracle if I get an hour of sleep in this joint," the first voice sounded so familiar; there was a hint of an accent and it was raspy from coming out of a deep sleep.
"Trust me, you're going to like this; it's your specialty." I recognized the voice of the Japanese mobster.
As their footsteps and voices grew louder, I began feeling uneasy; it's not often I'm shaken by anything during a business deal, and yet I found myself wringing my hands and wiping sweat from my brow. I professionally crossed my ankle over my knee and leaned back in the chair, hands gently clasped together. I heard the second voice chuckle at a crude joke told by the mobster, and then watched as two faces appeared in the doorway. I was sure my jaw dropped.
In the doorway, stood a man around 6'0 even with broad shoulders and excellent posture. He was dressed much more casually than the mobster, in a pair of blue jeans, a white t-shirt and a black jacket. Long blond hair was pulled back tightly into a braid cascading over the man's shoulder and under a few loose strands of hair, I gazed into a pair of familiar chocolate brown eyes.
The look on his face was probably similar to mine; he was slack jawed, wide eyed and looking very confused. Within seconds, his stern appearance returned and he folded his arms across his chest.
"This the guy?" he gestured toward me and his boss nodded.
"This is him. He's got the money and he wants the job done asap." The older of the two men invited me to stand.
"This is our best guy; he'll get what you want done." He briefly introduced the assassin with no name; I nodded my head curtly and he did the same.
After a period of silence, the mobster again cleared his throat. "When do you want it done?"
"I'd like to speak to my new associate in private; I'll give him all of the details." I smirked and gestured for the mobster to leave the room; he did so politely.
The smaller blond man chuckled as he spun a chair around, resting his elbows across the back of it, which very much reminded me of older times.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" His face was stern and his question was more of an accusation.
I smiled. "I could ask you the same thing, Jounouchi."
Dun dun dun! This is just the prologue; I promise I'll get a much longer chapter out next time. Review, let me know what you think, and if I get enough feedback, I'll update very soon!