CENTRAL DOMINO CITY
KAIBACORP TOWER
AUGUST 1st
11:02 a.m.
Seto Kaiba was late.
Katsuya Jonouchi, formerly Sergeant Katsuya, had been told his meeting was at 11. In all the years he had regrettably known the CEO, he had never known him to make anyone wait. Not for ten seconds. Not for a minute. Not for two.
One of two things was happening here.
A. Something was deeply, deeply wrong.
B. Kaiba was late on purpose, trying to mess with Jonouchi's head. Trying to show him who was in charge here.
The young blonde man sighed. There was always secret option C. Both of the above...
He paced back and forth in the hall outside Kaiba's office, hands thrust into jeans pockets, fumbling around with loose change, a candy wrapper, his eyes trailing over the walls, the ceiling, the floor. The click of an opening door took him by surprise, and he turned to see a faceless goon in a suit and shades standing in the now open doorway.
"Mr. Kaiba will see you now."
SETO KAIBA'S CENTRAL OFFICE
"Not like you to keep a man waiting." Jonouchi muttered, settling himself down into the chair opposite Kaiba's desk, not waiting to be invited.
"I didn't think you'd mind," Seto's face was set into an inscrutably blank scowl. He was perhaps the only man capable of putting so much apathy into such a judgemental look. He wore a neatly pressed white suit, gold buttons tracing up the upper sleeve, his eyes scanning over Jonouchi's own ripped jeans, ill-fitting t-shirt and bedraggled hair. If the former officer felt any discomfort and being so underdressed, he didn't show it. "The way I hear things, and now see things, you have nothing but time on your hands."
"Yes, well, we can't all be working those hard nine-to-fives of board-room meetings and golf and..." Jonouchi trailed off, motioning to the desk, "... Sitting."
"The rewards that go to those who give their all." Kaiba's expression didn't shift.
"Not to mention those who inherit multi-million dollar companies from their fathers." Jonouchi tried to look as though he were just effortlessly parrying banter, but he was finding it hard to hold back a delighted grin at the jab he had gotten in.
"Everyone starts from different points in life Mr. Katsuya," Another unique skill of Kaiba's. The ability to say anyone's name and make it seem synonymous with the scum that collects on the bottom of a well-worn shoe. He had steepled his hands in front of him, drumming the tips together. "Some of us work hard to make a life for ourselves that suits our greatness. Others... Quit."
Jonouchi froze up, staring upwards at the ceiling.
"I'll go ahead and assume you didn't ask me up here just to trade insults Kaiba."
"Fortunately no, as I think I would probably end up running rings around you all day. And then I'd miss the... Golf game..."
"Well if you're looking to hire me, it'll be 800 a day, plus expenses for food, travel, etc."
"I think I can stretch to accomodate the costs of Kentucky Fried Burger Palace, or whatever it is you've been filling yourself with since you left the force."
Jonouchi lifted his hand, ring and little finger extended. "Two strikes there Kaiba. Go for a third. Please."
"I'm going to need you to do some surveillance work. Stake-out a person I've had my eye on and-"
"Corporate espionage?" Jonouchi folded his arms. "Character assassination?"
"If that's how you want to put it, yes. I need some incriminating material on a business rival. There'll be a bonus if you find anything truly damning."
"And how likely is that? Who am I checking in on?"
"Industrial Illusions."
"Pegasus Crawford?" Jonouchi almost launched himself out of the chair, "You want me to spy on that old freak? I should be charging a hazard fee on top of this..."
"Oh please, what's the worst he could do?"
"It's not him I'm worried about. The man's connected. You know that."
"Rumours. Ugly ugly rumours." Kaiba turned in his chair, pressing a remote control and lifting the blinds, filling the room with amber light through the tinted windows.
"The entire police force tried to get something incriminating on him three years back with no success. What makes you think I'll have a chance now?"
"Nothing at all. To say I have faith in you would probably be the most heinous lie I've ever let pass my lips."
"Gee Kaiba. Thanks. That's... Special."
"But I'm willing to take a chance. You see, sometimes not quitting means taking some risks. And since I'm not a quitter..."
"Thin. Ice. Kaiba."
"So, do we have a deal?" The CEO still hadn't turned away from the window.
"Fine," Jonouchi got to his feet and almost extended his hand before he realised there was no chance there would be a shake on this.
"First eight hundred's in the case by the door. The rest you'll get once you bring me back something worthwhile."
Jonouchi sighed, dusting his hand off and heading for the door, hefting up the black briefcase that sat propped up against the marble wall.
"Just one question before you go," Kaiba lounged back in the chair, head resting in the pillow of his two clasped hands. "Indulge me. Why exactly did you leave the police? Freelancing hardly seems like the more stable career."
"Since when have you known me to be stable?" Jonouchi feigned a chuckle. There was no such sound from the other young man.
"The Otogi incident hmm?"
Jonouchi's hand gripped the handle of the case, fingernails pressing into the flesh of his palm, thumb pushing against the black leather and threatening to bend backwards. Silence poured through the room like a warm, sickly tide.
"He was almost family," he finally whispered. "Another few months, Shizuka and he..." He stopped himself, sucking in a deep breath. "I needed a little time to-"
"Forget I asked." It was impossible to tell whether Kaiba actually cared about the former officer's response and was cutting him off to avoid reliving any painful memories, or whether he had genuinely lost interest. Jonouchi opened the door and took half a step into the hallway.
"Why me, Kaiba?" He asked. "Out of all the down-and-outs in this city who could do this job, why go for the one guy who hates your guts more than anyone else in the world?"
"Because you're a reckless, pig-headed, single-minded, semi-competent and stubborn son of a bitch who takes more needless risks than is healthy for him."
"You're a real charmer, you know that Kaiba?"
"Right now, those are exactly the qualities I need in such an employee. Get down to Industrial Illusions. Fetch."
DOMINO CITY OUTSKIRTS
PEGASUS J. CRAWFORD'S RESIDENCE
AUGUST 2nd
01:24 a.m.
Jonouchi drummed his fingers over the steering wheel of his battered old wreck of a car. Three empty energy drink cans lay in a crumpled heap in the passenger's seat, their effects starting to wear off already, the blonde's eyelids drooping, his actions getting more and more sluggish as time went on. He'd been waiting out in the treeline for hours, hoping for even the tiniest hint of anyone showing their face.
Nothing.
Until about an hour ago there had been no activity whatsoever. Just Jonouchi, the car and his own body weight in snack foods. Then a pair of vans had arrived, with a luxurious black sports car out in front of them, pulling up in front of the house. Pegasus had almost been bouncing about like a man possessed as he got out of the car and directed a group of burly men in suits to transport some cases out of the vans and into the veritable mansion that he called home. Rumour had it that this was just a temporary arrangement. He spent most of his time either out to sea on some private island, or working through the night at Industrial Illusions HQ. Jonouchi had taken the gamble that he'd be home tonight, and it had payed off. Now he would just need to find out what was in those cases...
An hour later, movement inside the mansion. Jonouchi pressed his camera to his eye, clicking away as he stared down the telescopic attachment, angling the device to get the best shots of the buildings interior, and its inhabitants. The suited men were unpacking the cases, hoisting out... Paintings.
Jonouchi cursed out loud. Paintings? He'd waited all this time to see Pegasus' latest collection of Dalí originals? His hand slammed down against the steering wheel. This wasn't exactly the sort of juice he'd been hoping to unearth. Turning up back on Kaiba's doorstep and claiming that Pegasus had been purchasing art wasn't going to help anyone.
For a moment, he thought about giving up for the night and returning home. Maybe try again tomorrow.
Then he saw it.
A painting he had only seen in photos previously. Turning up in plenty of the Scene of Crime photos from the now infamous Otogi case. It had been hanging on the wall of a building owned by Bakura, thief, gangster and formerly the number one suspect in the murder of Detective Otogi.
In the foreground of the painting, a café. It was a slightly muted place, with colours all shaded and smudged. Deep reds, browns and blacks flowing together at the edges. A waiter strode from one table to another, holding a pot of tea in one towel-clad hand. The café was packed. It looked like a lunch time rush. Every head at every table was pointed away from the viewer. To a seated couple next to the window...
What the hell was Pegasus doing with that painting? Where had he gotten it from? Had he been in contact with Bakura?
Jonouchi was out of the car and halfway towards the mansion before he realised he was moving. He had to get a closer look. Had to get a good shot at the painting, from an angle where it wouldn't be blocked by Pegasus and his goons. Had to find out what the hell was happening here. He trampled over the lawn, almost plunging himself into a water feature and decapitating a garden gnome or two before he was anywhere near a window. By the time he was able to bring the camera to get a clear shot at his prize, the alarm had already gone up. A loud keening sounding over the garden and a spotlight craning from the top of the mansion.
Jonouchi's training kicked in and he fled, making sure to duck and weave, barrelling behind cover before the spotlight could centre on him. Stupid! He'd blundered on in there completely heedless of any security measures. That damn painting. He'd blown years of training, years of building up his patience. All to get at that one damn canvas.
He cursed at himself, hearing the front door open and the shouts of the guards. He raced for his car, piling inside and speeding away before he could be caught. Clearly this needed some thinking through...
PEGASUS J. CRAWFORD'S CONSERVATORY
9:15 a.m.
An entire choir of birds filled the morning air with their songs as they flitted about the mansion's garden, spinning through the dazzling sunlight that spilled into Pegasus' conservatory. The silver haired man lounged back on a plush velvet couch, a cup of strong, red tea in one hand and a phone in the other.
"You don't say?"
...
"No, I had no idea about that."
...
"Yes, I suppose it worked out in both our favours."
...
"No, no I don't think so..."
...
Pegasus erupted into a fit of laughter, almost spilling the tea across his extravagant kimono. He held the phone with his shoulder while he set the china cup down, not wanting to risk that again.
"Oh please, as though I'd allow an oversight like that. You really do worry too much."
...
"Trust me? When did I say you could trust me?"
...
"Exactly. Now. I've got what we need right here."
...
"Yes. Footprints on file, fingerprints that he left when he paused behind a statue on the way in. Even managed to get some footage and photographs of him on the mansion's CCTV."
...
"License plate number was easy, he's been driving that same beastly vehicle for years now..."
...
"Well if you want my suggestion, we don't let him know we have it all straight away. String the boy out, let him dance a little on his noose before we drop him."
...
"Well that's the beauty of blackmail. Oh, it is so nice to have a new toy to play with. Especially now this it's my turn."
...
"A pleasure as always. Take care Kaiba-boy."
