A/N: Written for the Diversity Writing Challenge at the Duel Monsters Writing Academy Forum (link in profile), j26 - write an alternate timeline fic.

Green and Black Roses
Chapter 1

Carly was feeling bored, but the stubborn streak inside her wasn't willing to bow over just for that. It might have other ideas once the money ran out, but at the moment she was parked under Mr Pitts' window, honking her car horn every now and then, and waiting until he hired her – or called Security to get rid of her.

Three days ago, she'd been amazed they hadn't come to tow her away, car and all. But that was three days ago. Before she realised why she'd drawn Nightmare Steelcage from her deck that morning. Before she'd run out of old newspapers to read and was wishing she'd gone apartment hunting instead of job hunting – but the job came first. And before she'd tired of having packaged food and running to the public restrooms whenever she needed to use the loo. And before she'd tired of the sound of her own horn. But she was at her wit's end. No reputable newspaper wound hire her without credentials and she couldn't get credentials without a job. This place had shown a bit more promise, considering they were small and often printed what some locals called "the dirty little secrets of Neo Domino". Mostly conspiracy theories, but people read them, and laughed about the stories, and that was good enough for her.

Except the manager claimed he had enough staff and didn't even consider her.

So she'd sat back in her car and started tooting the horn. And when he'd poked his head out to yell, she set her ultimum. 'Give me a job and I'll stop!'

He hadn't given her a job. So she didn't stop. Some passing citizens gave her dirty looks but they were near the shipyard. That made a lot of noise in and of itself. Maybe, Carly mused, that was why her method wasn't working – and three days was enough to know it wasn't working. She simply wasn't being annoying enough.

How to be more annoying?

Her eyes scanned the building. She could scale the wall and tap on his window. Or knock on the door until it fell down.

The door first, she decided. She could think of a few creative ways to go about it, none of which were likely to work. But it was still fun to imagine.

So she relocated to the door, bringing a supply of snacks and one of the worn newspapers with her. And she knocked. Mr Pitts opened the door, noticed her, and slammed it again. She kept knocking. And when she tired, she kicked. Then she sat down and kicked, this time with her heels. 'I'll go as soon as you give me a job,' she called. 'Just a little one. Or even something big. I'm not picky.'

Someone came up behind her and knocked. The door didn't open. 'Who are you?' he asked Carly, who was by then lying on her stomach crunching a bag of chips.

'Nagisa Carly,' Carly replied. 'I'm waiting for a job.'

He raised an eyebrow at her. She flushed a little, but said: 'I'm a little desperate.'

'You're the one who's been honking their car horn for three days?'

'Yep, that'd be me.'

The man shook his head. 'That'd be desperate.' Then he cleared his throat. 'Mr Pitts? I've got the article you wanted.'

The door opened, he disappeared through, and closed before Carly could get through it. She scowled. 'Thanks a lot!' she yelled at the other guy – a reporter, probably. A rival. Or something like that. He could have helped her in at least.

But he came out half an hour later with Mr Pitts trailing behind. 'Get in then,' he said grudgingly, looking displeased at the crumbs scattered but saying nothing of it. And Carly had visited the loo in the foyer when she needed it, but hadn't bothered cleaning up after herself in the meantime. If it was her car, she would, but she considered the mess the price for making her wait – and undercharged at that.

'Kids today have no manners,' the man muttered, moustache quivering as he opened a filing cabinet and rifled through. Carly was half wondering if the job he had in mind was cleaning the place up (and it could certainly use some organising) before he tossed a thick manila folder at her. 'Consider that your trial.'

Carly blinked, trying to stop herself from dancing about in joy and focusing on the actual task. 'The Black Rose Witch?' Sounded like something from occult. Then again, some of the kids from school would say the same about her deck. Even though her cards could be interpreted in a myriad of ways. Like today's fortune, for example. Fortune Lady Hu. Said today would be "not so bad" and yet she was ecstatic inside.

A chance! Finally!

Then again, Fortune Lady Hu said her lucky item was a plant, and there was a rose in the label. A black rose, albeit, which sounded more macabre than lucky – but it was something she was supposed to dig out of the soil either way.

Mr Pitts seemed to almost smirk as he watched her. 'Too frightening for you?'

'Of course not.' In truth, she had no idea what or who the Black Rose Witch was. But she'd find out. And no way was she going to miss this chance even if she was scared. 'I'll take this.' She flicked through a few pages. Articles of duels, photos of a figure in a black cloak, more articles. 'What do I do?' she asked. 'An interview?'

The man laughed and sat back down at his desk. 'Find out who she is,' he replied, sounding amused. 'If you can get an interview tossed in, go right ahead.' And he waved her off thereafter.

Carly assumed the laugh meant it wouldn't be as simple as dialling a number and asking. But she didn't mind. A challenge was always fun, and always made her feel like she was working for her pay. Except she wouldn't get paid until she had some dirt to hand over. Which meant she still had to deal with the money problem.

And since she had a probation all lined up in the newspaper industry, she figured she should look for something more…temporary.

She tucked the folder safely under a suitcase in the back seat and slipped into the driver's. 'Where to go?' she said thoughtfully to herself, tapping the steering wheel. She was careful not to touch the horn. She'd had enough of that, and she was sure Mr Pitts had as well. Maybe a supermarket? They always wanted hands to stock shelves and stuff, right? But no dice. They wanted people who looked pretty – poster boys and girls who added to the décor. Wasn't her sort of thing anyway. She tried fast food places. They said they had enough hands and they'd probably chase her with a red hot spatula if she tried to honk her way into a position. And she wasn't that desperate.

Well, she needed a job. Just not necessarily that sort of job.

She chatted with people anyway. Asked them where good places to get jobs where, and good places to get the gossip of the town. She didn't ask about the Black Rose Witch. She needed to read the papers she had first. Just in case it was one of those top-profile things. She didn't want the Public Security on her tail now after all.

She camped out another night in her car. The next morning she yawned, stretched out a crick in her neck, and decided she really needed to sort out the money issue before she ran out of fuel. Because food was one thing, but fuel was another thing entirely. Expensive. And she needed enough for a deposit on a cheap apartment once she was sure she could pay the rent.

'Give me a good fortune today,' she pleaded with her deck, shuffling the cards. Their worn backs smiled up to her and finally she stopped, and flipped the top card. 'Infinite Cards?' She blinked. Sleep and fatigue both clung to her eyes. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

It didn't necessarily mean anything. The easiest fortunes to work out were her Fortune Fairies, and only rarely did the others make sense. Nightmare Steelcage was one of the rare ones…though she might've done things differently if she'd known she was going to sit there for three days, honking her horn. Or maybe she wouldn't have. There hadn't been any other newspapers to try. There were other places in general though.

Unfortunately, that wasn't going so well. Until she got to a bar called Bootleg. 'A job?' the bartender laughed. 'You haven't quite got the face for here. Too…youngish.'

A slightly different comment than from the supermarkets, but no more helpful. 'Any ideas then?' she asked. 'Unset hours preferred.'

The man glanced around, then gestured her in. 'You might try the underground,' he whispered to her over the squeaks of him polishing wine glasses. 'If you're any good at duelling, I mean. And don't mind…uhh…sneaking through channels, as it is.'

'Underground,' Carly mused thoughtfully. Sounded like a good place to get scoops as well. She wasn't too sure about the duelling part. She'd have to check it out, to see if someone with mediocre talent could make a pretty penny over there. 'Where can I find this place?'

Maybe that's what Infinite Cards had been trying to tell her. There were a bunch of cards in its picture.

Or maybe, as her family always said, she was reading too much into them again. It wasn't like the cards guided anything aside from her mood. But it was something she did every day without fail nonetheless.