Prologue
The sun was burning brightly as the brown haired boy stumbled slowly down the crowded market street. After a few failed attempts, he finally managed to tune out the ceaseless cries of "ripe bananas" and "juicy apples" till they became no more than a distant buzz. That was better, now he could concentrate.
Over the past two weeks a series of kidnappings had struck the town, however, as such events were hardly regarded as unprecedented in the city of Domino, Pierce Guinea was pretty sure that the people around him were more worried about attracting customers in the fierce heat than the three duelists who had recently vanished. Damn. Now he was back onto the heat again, once more feeling the sun's cruel fingers burning into his unprotected skin, trying to weary him past endurance. He rubbed his eyes wearily as he opened the newspaper in his hand, trying to quench the small bubble of hope in his heart and the nagging feeling that he was missing something both obvious and vital.
The white of the paper burned his eyes as it became dazzling in the fierce sun – blinding him. "Elizabeth Crow, Andy Price, Jenny Lawson" those were the names that were glaring out from the front page, those were the names that were etched into his mind as he forced himself to concentrate on them so that he could find the pattern he knew connected them. "Nancy Crow, Andy Price, Jenny Lawson, Pierce Guinea." Now why did that sound right? He folded the newspaper, rubbed his temples wearily and turned his head towards the tired wind. He flinched as he felt grains of sand enter his eyes. He rubbed them, feeling decidedly jaded - even the weather was conspiring against him.
It was then he noticed a babble of men coming out of a nearby pub and, if the volume and atonal nature of their singing were any indication, they were most definitely drunk. He sighed, feeling obliged to take the rather obscure detour that led back to his apartment where he knew Tom would be waiting for him. Nevertheless, just a few roads into his detour he was brought to a rather abrupt halt.
"I'm sorry, I'm afraid you can't come down here," explained a rather sleepy looking policeman, his wispy white hair sparkling in the sunlight, "We've had a series of phone calls complaining of a rather deep pothole so the road is temporarily closed for maintenance." Pierce felt his face fold into an alien scowl as he turned to walk resignedly down a rather unfamiliar road which he hoped would lead him around the road he had originally intended to use. Next his face puckered in sheer disbelief as he saw a host of fangirls gossiping loudly, each one holding a framed photograph of himself and squealing in nervous anticipation. This was unbelievable. Confused, irate and really rather drained, he ducked into an old alleyway and started striding towards the white light he could see at the alley's end.
Suddenly he heard a sharp snap and the white light faded into deep purple and the darkness around him immediately seemed more intense. It seemed to not only surround him but to suffocate him. By the time he noticed a hooded figure swathed in that strange, purple light he was gasping for breath. The figure glided towards him effortlessly. "You're two minutes late. I thought you'd never arrive. I knew my careful planning would lead you here eventually but I suppose I hadn't factored in your weariness. Oh well, you're here now so the fun can finally begin."
It was then he noticed a duel disk on his tormenter's arm. However, it was a duel disk unlike any he had seen before. "Who are you? What do you want? Why me?"
"You amateurs are so boring! Always the same, dull questions!" Extending her arm slightly, Pierce heard the duel disk activate and he felt a thrill of dread run down his spine. He was betting that she knew as well as he did that he got by mostly on his good looks and the many fangirls that entailed as opposed to true duelling talent. True, he wasn't at the bottom of the amateur table, that place belonged to the adorable Betty, but he knew he would never be able to hold his own against a duelist with real skill.
He tried his most charming smile, "Maybe we can talk about this." Though he couldn't see it, the figure responded with a smile just as dazzling as his own, only more sincere,
"And maybe we can't. Now draw!"
It was approaching dusk and Mike Fletcher was feeling slightly queasy. His flatmate never came home this late. In fact, he always came home straight after an important duel so that the two of them could go out for pizza – he was like that, methodical. What made matters even worse were the horrid disappearances and the faces of the missing duelists that seemed to stare out at him from the front page of the newspaper. As purple turned to black Tom felt his fist clench and the realization he was trying to resist finally dawned on him – it was over – Pierce was never coming back.
