Warnings: None, really.
Disclaimer: Spooner doesn't own YGO, Turn of the Screw, or anything else that got referenced here.
Length: 4,500 words.
Ship: Toonshipping(Pegasus X Kaiba)
Handicap: Well, I did have a nice, fancy introduction for this all planned out; an explanation of how the 'caps were to be chosen for each round, and a carefully crafted 'cap list just waiting in the wings. And then something clashed with something else, and a handicap was bumped off the list as a result – which then turned out to be the one I was meant to use for the first round. I considered using a different 'cap, but then there were tests, and I was forced to write this fic whilst suffering a cold/fever combo. End result: no intro, because you can't introduce something that isn't there.
...But then again, writing four and a half thousand words whilst you've got a rip-roaring temperature and a lovely headache is probably handicap enough.
Kaiba Bros
Every story's gotta start somewhere.
That's how our story begins, as way too many stories do these days, with the proverbial advice the author probably pinched from some other site. You know how it's going to go from here, and we're not about to surprise you - because next, we describe where our story begins, we put power and passion into that setting you never thought possible to do, and we bore you senseless with all that detail. When all's said and done, you'll know that (a) this story is generic beyond generic, and (b) the action is taking place at ten-thirty at night, in a room kept almost freakishly neat - it is currently occupied by a plastic table, a man in boxer shorts and little else sulking at aforementioned table, and a pair of solemn lawyers shuffling through their paperwork as they attempt to avoid his gaze with mixed results.
…Okay, so maybe not very many stories are set that late at night, nor do they feature a guy in his underwear as the client (good thing that this one is a rather attractive young man, eh?), but the lawyers – ah, yes, a classic plot element, that is!
You see, lawyers are paid to twist the facts to their advantage; it's all in their job description of (putting it very bluntly) making murder, robbery, and drug trafficking look good. This, then, makes for intriguing plots, plots where neither reader nor author can be certain about what exactly happened last night. And to make things even more exciting – the more a lawyer is paid, the more facts they are willing to either avoid or exaggerate; and so the 'stronger' the argument is (because there's surely nothing as strong as a one–sided argument that refuses to acknowledge the other side).
It should here be noted that it was extremely fortunate that the young man in his kitty–cat boxer shorts was obscenely wealthy, because there were many, many pieces of common sense that were going to have to be skipped over for this one to make any recognizable sense. Yes, Miles and Flora were going to make a killing out of this, and they both knew that Seto Kaiba could pay it easily - which is the only reason they had even bothered showing up in the first place.
"Okay, Mister Kaiba, just a few more questions", Miles murmured, checking his files; he was a soft-spoken young man, with a stout build that made his suit appear that much more awkward. He glanced up from the paperwork a moment, then hurriedly returned his gaze to the files at Kaiba's current expression, nudging Flora a little to indicate that maybe she should try asking the question this time round.
Flora was, for the record, a gender-bent Miles in appearance, and totally turning a little screw between her fingers - because oh my goodness, isn't this author creative, and references to obscure serieses are apparently cool now. "You were assaulted by this Pegasus person, am I correct?"
At that, Kaiba's fist slammed hard into the table, momentarily filling the room with a blizzard of white sheets of paper as he flipped the furniture over, roaring in untamed rage as he did so. "That's what I've been trying to tell you for the last three hours, dolt!", he howled; leaping to his feet in order to kick his chair behind him into the wall with a terrific bang. The sound had the attention of the two lawyers, certainly; and the CEO used it in order to transfix Miles and Flora with a look befitting some god of fate much angered, his blue eyes seeming to bore right into their souls as he awaited his answer (and it had better be a good answer, because otherwise they would surely feel the wrath of a man angered!). He glared, and he stared, and…
…Well, let's just say that this display would have been most intimidating, if only Seto Kaiba hadn't been nearly naked. If only he'd been clothed – or, at least, if he'd been wearing pants to hide the horrendously cute kitten boxers – then one could have taken him more seriously. But as he was now, it was rather hard even for seasoned lawyers such as Flora not to snicker at the mostly–naked man, even when they knew that they probably should have cowered under the desk. This effect, of course, had been present throughout the meeting - but it was made far more obvious when Kaiba was attempting to appear aggressive. The secret of his towering height, for instance, lay in his very skinny legs, which only served to make him look like some sort of ungainly bird – and let's not even get started on how his angry face looked more like a beetroot than it would have otherwise, clashing as it did against the paleness of his skin. Really, the eyes were all that kept Miles from snickering himself into next week, filled as they still were with terrible promises of what might just happen if he were to laugh.
"Flora was... merely checking", he nodded, indicating with a hand gesture that it would be ever so nice if his wonderful benefactor were to sit nicely and be a good boy (though to say that to Kaiba's face would have been tantamount to murdering his oh–so–precious brother before his eyes). "You would have Flora and I write a cease and desist for this Pegasus, then?"
Silence.
Silence.
Gulp.
"If not that, then what exactly I been asking you two dopes to write for the last three hours?" The CEO leaned forwards, his voice dripping sarcasm. "Poetry, perhaps?" Miles winced at the comment, because he may or may not have been thinking just that-
"OUT!"
They walked out.
Fast.
Mr. Pegasus,
It is our understanding that at 5:09AM precisely, on the 1st of December, you were responsible for both inciteful and spiteful behavior towards our client.
At this time, Mr. Seto Kaiba asserts that you leaped through the window of his office on the forty–fifth floor, dressed in a suit so bright in colour that it hurt our client's eyes. Following this unexpected and unannounced arrival – in direct breach of code 49C of 's greeting policies, we might add – you then proceeded to harass him for some hours, referring to him repeatedly as 'the little lord of cards', among other such insulting names.
Regardless of whether or not you were joking, regardless of whether or not you exist – your antics were in very bad taste, and were in no way, shape, or form humorous for our client. Mr. Kaiba is a very busy man, and does not appreciate such ridiculous pranks; especially when he is attempting to run such projects as the Battle City Tournament, a major corporate activity of which we are sure you are aware. He has also informed us of a rare heart condition; so we would like to inform you that if you happen to cause his death via a heart attack, you will be held responsible for manslaughter.
This letter, therefore, is asking that you kindly cease and desist from all similar behaviours towards Mr. Kaiba in the future, and also that you remain one kilometer away from the KaibaCorp building at all times. You should also know that regardless of your current living status, you may be taken to court by our client if there is a repeat of this incident.
Regards,
Mills and Boone,
Personal Lawyers, Domino City.
It was the morning after The Incident; always the worst morning, the morning after some huge event has happened in your life, be it good or bad. But today, it was a particularly bad morning after; a memory had awoken from its slumber, seemingly for the express purpose of banging at the inside of his head and screeching itself hoarse - a memory from a time when he had looked into the eye of a man now dead-
-and yet a man who somehow reappeared last night, a man who had dared to poke him and tease him, belittle him and aaaaaargh.
He didn't normally look into the past, and this was why; the memory, annoying as it was, now appeared to be chewing at his brain, corroding logic, telling him that he wasn't who he was now. The dead man had beaten him, in life, even in death, and it left him feeling distinctly inferior. He was naught but a little lord of cards, who had allowed his own brother to stray from his sight, and then be torn from him; a man reduced to a state of sitting back and watching as his rival then proceeded to defeat Maximillion Pegasus with ease-
-his brother!
A low growl escaped his lips at the thought; a noise both savage and guttural, one that commanded attention - and the man slouched in the corner certainly brought himself to attention at the noise, precious seconds before his own master whirled on him. Kaiba was at this point hunched over in his own chair, looking more gargoyle than human; his lips were drawn back in a ferocious snarl - the bloodshot eyes resulting from Pegasus-induced insomnia only added to the overall effect.
"Where is my brother? Where is he?", the CEO hissed, digging slender fingers into the upholstery of his armchair until the other man found himself to be certain that Seto Kaiba was about to break either his fingers or the furniture, whichever came first.
"Gone to Hawaii, sir."
A deathly silence hung on the air, as Kaiba awaited further explanation of this.
"Er… You sent him? To a special academy? To be trained, so that he is not as insolent as he was?"
And there it was, there it was - the truth, plain and simple, yet sending Kaiba as white as a sheet. To him, you see, it was an accusation - a reminder that he had not learnt his lesson from Maximillion Pegasus, and perhaps he never would. He had pushed his brother away, and now the little ruffian might just be in danger, in danger, in danger, and here he panicked slightly - maybe Mokuba was even in danger from Pegasus himself, because that would be such a lovely way of getting revenge...
For the observer, it was as though a switch had simply flipped over inside his employer's head; the beast was gone, replaced with something possibly less flattering; a broken thing now sat in the chair.
"G–g-gyyah", Kaiba stuttered; as his shoulders shook silently, back curving over, knees drawing up to his chest. Blue eyes, perhaps once proud, maybe carrying a savage expression at some point prior to Pegasus's untimely arrival, but now best described as hollow, bore sightlessly into something just above the servant's head; and to top the whole thing off, the CEO's mouth gasped for air like a landed fish in its death throes, before it eventually shut with an ugly snap.
And then, a word rang out like a gunshot in the room's small confines, the servant wincing a little at the sound. Right there, in that moment, he could see the old Kaiba that had used to boss him around – and, in fact, had been doing so, right up until the kerfuffle the night before and the hastily called lawyers, of course.
"Gone!"
"Gone to Hawaii, yes," the man stated, careful not to flinch under the sudden glare he was given by Kaiba. There was a long pause, during which he was left to stew; icy shivers down his spine, yet a ridiculous amount of sweat under his collar.
Then, just as he felt as though he were about to boil over and freeze solid at exactly the same time:
"Where is my Blue-Eyes White Dragon?"
Thank goodness, it was the same question again, more or less! He relaxed slightly at the thought, resisting the urge to wipe his forehead; such a sign of weakness would never be tolerated by his employer. "It is also in Hawaii."
Silence.
"Do you remember, sir? You sent it there for saf–"
"Don't lie to me!"
"I was no–"
"Insolence!" Kaiba rose from his chair, standing atop it in a towering rage, eyes flashing murder – he may well have been in a fluffy blue bathrobe, but that hardly lessened the intimidation factor for his underling. "You Industrial - Illusions - Scum!"
"Sir, I did not mean-"
"Just get out this minute, before I make you."
The servant wisely got out.
There was a slight pause.
"And fetch me those two lawyers!"
Three days into the torture, and all Kaiba wanted to do was sleep. If he was to lie down, he told himself, and everyone else was to shut the hell up and get off his back, he was certain that he would sleep, blissful unconsciousness dragging him away from the stress of the whole scenario.
Experience told him otherwise, of course - for the last two nights he had laid awake, thinking the same thoughts over and over, as he tried and failed to come to terms with the emotions Mokuba's leaving had unleashed. It wasn't that he was exactly worried about the boy; Mokuba was undoubtedly safe. No, Kaiba was more furious with himself for shoving away someone who was part of himself, part of KaibaCorp, part of his heart. What an absolutely brilliant move, he had snarled in his own head, his clammy hands clenching fistfuls of blanket as he raged at his stupid, stupid mistake - even though he knew that it had been a move utterly intentional. He'd sent his brother packing, with words he'd been practicing for six nights in a row, and now he was paying for it in sleep; his mind was awash with guilt–
–but now he told himself that the real reason he couldn't sleep was because of Pegasus; the blasted ghost just wouldn't leave him alone. He told himself, too, that the pangs of guilt he felt were all Pegasus's doing; he had somehow made Kaiba send Mokuba away, this was his fault, not Kaiba's, and now it was Kaiba's job to get his brother back – just like in the good ol' Duelist Kingdom days. There were no doubts in his head that the ghost was real, either – if he focused his mind upon the ghost, he could just about hear the thing's mocking cooing, its subtle taunts; if he squinted, he could see it – a subtle shimmer in the air above his dresser. It didn't look much like Pegasus, sure, but Kaiba was willing to bet that ghosts could turn invisible if they really wanted to; not that he had ever checked, he'd simply decided that really, in this kind of ridiculous scenario, things just couldn't get any sillier.
Now, the CEO was not exactly a believer in the paranormal, more so the opposite; but it was hard even for him to deny that at 5:09 AM, on the first of December as the lawyers had put in their letter, the dead man had showed up, cartwheeling through a closed window on the 45th floor to torture the CEO, his bell–like laughter just barely hiding the inherent nastiness in his voice. Pegasus had been in fine form that morning, taking advantage of Kaiba's surprise and automatic disbelief to get a good reaction out of him, forcing him into shouts and screams of rage for the better part of several hours, until the lawyers had arrived on the scene. The spirit hadn't been anywhere near as spectacular the following night (a little movement out of the corner of Kaiba's vision, a soft murmuring in his head), but he had been far more persistent than simply staying a few hours. The words had continued to lilt in Kaiba's head when he eventually dragged himself out of bed for breakfast, the dead man jabbering in his ear, and it had stayed that way for the rest of the day, only going quiet that night, when–
–have you ever had that sudden feeling that someone's watching you?
Kaiba's eyes snapped open – and there the spirit was, that awful red suit almost as offensive to the poor CEO as the bloody mess that was its left eye socket. It hadn't announced itself, it hadn't approached him slowly and with great ceremony (as it had done the first night) – nope, it was just there, bobbing up and down a little as it floated at the foot of the bed, an arm outstretched towards its rival.
Miss me, Kaiba–boy...?
And a second later, it was tickling his toes, small and vulnerable as they were, sticking out from under the blanket; its fingers were like miniature icicles, so freezing cold that they almost burned. Kaiba's bare feet shot back under the covers at the action, but the ghost simply followed them, its arms going straight through the blanket as it proceeded to ruin whatever warm comfort the unfortunate CEO might have managed to build. To make matters worse, the ghost was laughing as well, its giggles growing ever louder as Kaiba writhed uncomfortably, his face growing hot as he tried desperately not to lose his pride.
What is it, Kaiba–boy? Cold feet?
Kaiba couldn't glare at him for that joke, nor could he snarl; for not only was he utterly mortified by what the thing was doing, but he was also very busy trying not to fall out of bed. However, he could at least slam one foot on top of the other in an attempt to break the apparition's fingers.
Needless to say, it didn't work.
"Yeow!", Kaiba hollered pitifully, as his own heel very nearly broke the toes of his other foot, a sharp whine forced out him as the spirit decided to continue its tickling with a merciless air about it, its single remaining eye seeming to darken a little as it did so.
Why are you hurting yourself, Kaiba-boy? And at that, the fingers suddenly retreated, then shot out again, this time caressing the young man's cheek. Don't you want to hurt me? Hurt me instead! If you're lucky, you might even be able to kill m- ohhh, wait a minute...
The smug smile alone was enough to have Kaiba whipping his Duel Monsters deck out from under his pillow. "Give them back."
That only netted him an innocent look, one that he knew well, for it had made him ill on previous occasions. The ghost lifted an index finger to its bottom lip, as though it were a small child; that single brown eye widening even as the spirit drew its greying fringe carefully over the mess on his left side. Give what back?
"You know what I mean!", he growls.
Ohhhh, that? Well… The finger waggled, making the CEO's face twitch slightly in anger just barely held in. It'd be more fun to make it... a game, don't you think? I know lots of good ones…
Here there fell a pause, long and oh-so-irritating.
...Checkers?
"Duel Monsters," Kaiba deadpanned.
Bingo?
"Duel Monsters."
Frisbee?
"Duel Monsters!"
Er… How about Twister?
"DUEL MONSTERS!"
A long silence. Hmm. I don't know… I know lots of games, but we might be running a little thin - and here, Pegasus's face suddenly broke into a broad, condescending, grin, as though he had just had a wonderful idea.
I have a wonderful idea!
"And I don't care about your idea!", Kaiba growled, drawing his five cards. "We're playing Due-"
No, no, I've got it! Let's play Duel Monsters!
Silence.
Silence.
"...Let's just duel already."
Best two out of three?
The young CEO barely had to think about that, of course - because there's only one thing better than thrashing someone, and that's doing it twice.
"Best two out of three!"
The clock ticked past midnight, making it the fourth day of hell. He was sitting hunched over in his bed, the ghost laughing as it celebrated its latest victory, a whole new layer of painful memories being carved into the CEO's brain. He couldn't bring himself to look at the damned spirit, because he had lost, lost again, lost over and over, and it was all he could do to simply sit there and not hurl his deck at the dead man; frustrated at the loss of the game, and his heart aching at the thought that now, because he had lost, he might never see Mokuba or his Blue-Eyes ever again...
And yes, the whole scene would have looked a ton more impressive if only Kaiba hadn't been naked but for his kitty-cat boxer shorts once again, if only Pegasus hadn't been talking as though here were a host on a children's television program; one almost expected the ghost to begin performing some ridiculous jumping dance.
Oh, what fun this is! Aren't you having fun?
Something went snap inside Kaiba's brain.
"Just give them back!", he almost screamed, furious and frightened at the thought of losing his precious Blue–Eyes White Dragon, because what would he do in the coming tournament without it? Losing his brother was bad as well, but the Blue–Eyes, oh, his poor Blue–Eyes, all lost and alone-
They're gone, I'm afraid, Pegasus sighed, and Kaiba absolutely howled, his head thrown back as though he were some sort of wild animal.
"You kidnapped them both!", he roared-
-and his jaw closed shut with an awkward clacking noise, as the ghost made his reply:
When did I say I'd kidnapped them? I said I was kidnapping something, but all I'm kidnapping is your guilt, Kaiba-boy - I need to take it in order to pass on. A slow smirk. And just look who's been using me as an emotional scapegoat! Remind you of anyone you maybe… missed?
"No. Just… no." The CEO turned his back on the apparition; but the ghost merely floated into his line of sight. "You can't be my brother. You took my brother."
You sent him away, Kaiba - boy.
"I did no-"
Don't lie to me!
And there it was, the gauntlet thrown with Kaiba's own words, thrown in his face; Pegasus even doing a passable (albeit shrill) imitation of the CEO's voice.
"Why are you doing this?", the brunette snarled, finally forced into asking the question, finally forced into caring about the answer.
I am here to take your guilt. I will be your brother figure, and you can unload it onto me. Simple, efficient.
"And if I refuse to comply?"
Pegasus reached out towards him with a winning smile, though it did go a bit shark-like when the CEO recoiled from the icy fingers.
You really, really don't want to know what happens if you say 'no', Kaiba-boy...
The next six months seemed to pass in the blink of an eye - which, let's face it, was exactly how long it took you to get past that line break. That's word painting, that is!
Anyway - so during that time, Pegasus was there for Kaiba, and absolutely nowhere for anyone else. Sometimes, he forgot that the ghost either wasn't real or wasn't visible (whichever one it was) for everyone else in the company; and this ultimately led to the psychiatrist appointments. Indeed, it was many a man who asked the CEO some question or other, only to watch in some puzzlement as the young man consulted the empty air besides him - and on several occasions, held an all out shouting match with it, seemingly incited by the silent responses he was receiving. Secretaries told stories in hushed tones and shaking voices, tragic tales indeed, for not only had their favourite bishie-they-were-totally-supposed-to-be-shipped-wi th decided that someone was more interesting than them in all their secretarial perfection - but to add insult to injury, that someone was invisible, preventing them from writing the graphic descriptions of chucking this suitor into a bear-pit that they so desired to. Eventually, their whining reached the ears of the security guards, who then decided that something had to be done, and then mumbled to each other about that until something was, in fact, done. Phone calls were made, if only to shut up the absolute cacophony that had formed somewhere in between the ladies' wailing and the grunt's grunting; and then the psychiatrists arrived.
All one hundred and twenty-two of them, because Seto Kaiba was big money.
Well, they were weeded out pretty quick, the older ones sent home for showing weakness - but even the best of the best could not fix the problem, because there really wasn't much to be fixed. After all, the ghost was evidently real enough for Kaiba, and its constant presence meant that any form of therapy was kind of ineffective. That didn't stop them from coming, ironically enough under the orders of Mokuba Kaiba, a lad now very worried about his brother, and demanding that he receive treatment.
What, did you really think that those grunts had hired the doctors?
You did?
Storytelling, ladies and gentlemen!
Er. Anyway.
"It's not real!", one young lady yelled on a particularly memorable occasion, having finally lost her nerve with the patient - to which Pegasus replied with a gentle tap on the shoulder. And she turned to see him; in all his bloody, gory, cheesy-smiling glory (even if he was a tad wonky), and… well, you can imagine the screeches that resulted. That, needless to say, was the best fun Kaiba had ever had with the holograms he'd created; he'd modelled that Pegasus off the real (to him, anyway) Pegasus - and boy, had it paid off.
But at the end of the day, the clock kept on ticking, and six more months came and went.
Mokuba came home, and seeing as Pegasus had by now taken more than his fair share of guilt, he went away. The kid never knew the ghost had ever actually existed, and life went on, just the same as it had been before Pegasus: Stamp the paperwork, sign the paperwork, turn in the paperwork, rinse and repeat (but don't actually rinse the pa- ohhh, too late)...
...or at least, that's how I'd have liked this whole silly story to have ended.
It's a pity, then, that all of the above did indeed happen - but to Kaiba, Pegasus never really left. The brunette was loathe to change his beliefs; he'd already changed them once, and that was quite enough, thanks very much - so Pegasus was in his head, Pegasus in his ears, and Pegasus by his side. And he didn't care what the members of his staff thought about it - Pegasus was there always, as he had always been, ever since that first night - and he was there, even if it was just in his mind and nowhere else. Yes, he told himself, that was Pegasus giving him advice, Pegasus being the voice of reason, or maybe the voice of stupidity, and either way being the annoying voice he could yell at; the brother who took his guilt away. The ghost was a constant companion, he decided; the best friend ever (Kaiba refused to use the word 'bro'), and an unofficial member of Team KaibaCorp...
...and the psychiatrists had a field day with that.
It was, hands down, the best revenge ever.
UAB (Unnecessary Author's Babble)
The story of this fic:
- One sick little author wrote three stories with roughly the same plot to them, but different ways of telling it; and because she was sick, all of them were downright awful, and totaled to give 10,000 words of nonsense.
- Spooner then realized that they were all horrible, but she still loved that plot. So she took bits from each of the stories, and pasted them together...
-...and then she edited the everlasting cheesepuffs out of them, and broke the fourth wall a ton, and gave the fic a title that was stupid, but nowhere near as stupid as 'Partridge's Gonna Break You' (which was in fact the title of one of those stupid fics she'd written earlier).