Men In Suits
A slightly Quentin Tarantino-inspired Yu Gi Oh! fan fic by Heavens to Bikini Kill
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One: Men With Plans
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My name is Jounouchi Katsuya and I used to be in a gang.
When I normally say this, people are tempted to get up and move to the other side of the room. This makes it very difficult to actually talk about what I've done. It makes very little sense, because everyone who is a righteous citizen makes the claim that if teenagers today would just talk about stuff, then we wouldn't be tempted to resort to use mob violence as our weapon of choice.
Hm.
To tell the truth, I was involved in crime more than just once. First, there was my old middle school gang. That was silly. We'd run around Domino smoking stolen cigarettes and getting in fights with high school gangs (wow!). Of course, once we left junior high the fuckers turned into a load of bloody cowards. They went off and picked on those who were half their size, hoping to maintain their reputation. It failed terribly. Then I was briefly involved with a high school gang, but that wasn't working. They liked to drink too much, and it was all actually counterproductive. If a gang could ever be productive.
But enough about school.
I've graduated recently, and as every single adult in my life had anticipated, I have nowhere to go. Think of the setting in that one graphic novel "Ghost World". Much like Enid, I didn't want to stay in town and be the same damn person, but I was apparently too stupid to get into college. Yuugi (and his yami, Atemu) went off to Tokyo University, Anzu actually did move to New York to study dance, Otogi and Kaiba were still in Domino, but that was okay because they had huge corporations to run. Honda actually (gasp!) got himself a job, and he moved out of his folks' house.
There was no way in all of Hell that I was going to stick around with my drunk, worthless father, so I got myself a worthless job washing dishes in a sushi bar and moved in with Honda.
One day, I walked home from the restaurant, smelling like cheap fish, grumbling incoherently (even to myself) about how the customers of Japan were involved in an intricate plot to purposely make us dishwashers scrub harder than the average person. The sky was getting cloudy, and I was sure that the gods were going to make it rain just so they could have a good laugh at me. Damn it. I never bothered to get a damn car.
Tonight, I decided, I was going to curl up in the fetal position on the floor and watch "Reservoir Dogs" all night long. Men in suits with quick, hip dialogue always made me happy. Then I'd follow up with a heavy dosage of "Pulp Fiction", followed by the yakuza slice-and-dice Crazy 86 scene from "Kill Bill: Volume One".
Tires squealed as the driver of whatever car stupidly swerved up to my curb. I turned to see what idiot wanted to look cool, and I wasn't that shocked at the answer. "Kaiba."
"Make inu." He stepped out of the car and leaned against its irritably perfect hood. Rich boy.
"You're still calling me that, you little cunt?" I snorted and pulled out a pack of Camels. I allowed Kaiba to watch one dangle out of my mouth as I continued mocking him. "One would think that you're over high school."
Kaiba snorted and lit the cancer stick hanging out of my mouth. I desired greatly to put it out (how can I possibly smoke something that Kaiba lit?), but economical logic said to forget it. "Hm. You think I'm here just to insult you? Don't flatter yourself, inu."
I laughed right out loud, causing Kaiba to step back for a moment. "Does it make you feel good to insult me?"
"There's nothing about you to be proud of. You're out of high school and the best you can do is work in some sushi bar and live with that pencil-headed moron?"
"And you run a mutlimillion dollar company, the same company you've been throwing in our faces since the TENTH GRADE." I blew smoke directly into his face. "Yeah, Kaiba. I was impressed when I was fifteen."
He snorted and pulled out his own pack of foreign and remarkably expensive cigarettes. He smoked without filters. That's disgusting. "Sixteen, mutt. Can't you count?"
"Please, Kaiba, keep boosting your self-esteem. I need a laugh."
Kaiba grinned and smoked some more, gently tapping the ashes to the concrete. "I'm not here to attempt to match wits with you, inu."
"Hm. Then what the hell do you want?"
Kaiba paused, and opened his car door. "Get in."
"You're joking, right?"
"No joke. Get in. I'll explain on the way."
----
I kept my attention on the side windows as Kaiba drove to wherever. He kept his eyes on the road, and I had to say something. "What the hell is this about?"
Kaiba smirked. Gods, how I hate that smirk. "You need money, right?"
"I didn't know that my matters ever concerned you, twat."
"They don't. You could die of alcohol poisoning with a rod rammed up your ass for all I care." He laughed humorlessly at his newfound wit. "Otogi wanted me to talk to you about this."
"Otogi? That flaming faggot? He thinks I'm gonna have anything to do with him after he tried to hit on me at Yuugi's graduation party?"
Kaiba laughed right out loud. "He says that YOU came on to HIM."
"The man's a liar and a fucking fool." I snapped, and I let the brief exchange die.
Kaiba drove on, staring at the asphalt. He sighed, and pressed on. "There this group of men...they've found a way to make an obscene amount of money...And Otogi wants you and Honda in."
"Really, now." I snorted in contempt. "And what does he want out of it? A free fuck?"
For the first time ever since I had met Kaiba in the tenth grade, he had nothing to say. "Erm..."
I had no idea what the whole idea was supposed to be about, no clue what was the plan, no thought of how much money I could make, but I had only one response: "Forget it."
"You're shitting me." Kaiba must have expected me to jump at the simple opportunity of making money.
"I shit you not. I'm not a whore, Kaiba."
Kaiba grumbled something along the lines of "stupid cunt didn't bother to let me explain" as he swerved towards the entrance of an old, condemned warehouse. "Get out."
"Forget that, too. I'm not going anywhere near Otogi. He'll try to grab my ass again."
"Conceited, are we?"
"You're one to talk."
"We're not in high school anymore, mutt. Get over your insecurities and be a man." He pulled me bodily out of the car and literally threw me at the warehouse's door.
Reluctantly, I pushed it open and stared into a musky room full of men who I didn't know. Kaiba tailed me closely, as if to ensure that I hear these strange people out. I looked around carefully for anyone I might have known, purposely ignoring Otogi.
Kaiba chuckled a bit at my obvious discomfort and pointed to each man. "That's Sota." A tall man with long dreads nodded back, adjusting his tortoiseshell glasses. "Akito." Slightly shorter, another man with blue (blue?), spiked hair and a leather coat covered in studs also nodded. "Hideaki." He kept his hair covered by a ridiculous fedora, and he was too busy with his cigar that he didn't look up. "And Yuuki."
Yuuki floored me (I shouldn't say that...I'm straight, right?). He was ridiculously thin (thinner than Kaiba, I believe), and he dressed simply in a white t-shirt, tight blue jeans, and sneakers. He had a shock of blond, curly hair that he kept only slightly covered with a bandana. He glided across the rough, dirty floor to me and held out a graceful, smooth hand, covered in sliver rings and plastic bracelets. "Pleasure to meet you."
My own big, rough hand shook his with a significant lack of grace. "You remind me of someone I've seen before..."
"Jesse of Operation Ivy?" Yuuki read my mind, and it was creepy. "I'm told that a lot."
"You don't look Japanese, yet you speak the vernacular perfectly."
"I get that a lot too. My mom's American, my dad's from Osaka."
I could see Kaiba rolling his eyes irritably with my peripheral vision, and soon enough he broke us up. "That's enough. Let's explain this to him."
Yuuki dropped my hand and walked back to his table, stretching audibly and spreading his cat-like figure over his chair.
Sota pushed his glasses onto the bridge of his nose as he spoke. "Hideaki has found the passwords for six different banks in Japan. These banks have the accounts of the twelve richest men in Japan, excluding, of course, Kaiba and Otogi."
Otogi grinned at me, and I remembered that he was there. "Kaiba and I keep our money in Swiss accounts. It works."
I looked away from him as if to say, "I do not care," and I rested my attention back to Sota.
He continued. "Obviously, emptying all of these accounts at once will create a long trail of clues, ensuring our collective arrest. Therefore, we will empty these accounts one by one, using different methods."
I was kind of confused. "Excuse me?"
"Rather than just hacking into each system, we intend to implement a plethora of methods to acquire this money. Hold-ups. Brick-and-mortar break-ins. All of it. There will be no way to connect each heist to each other."
I was, once again, floored. The plan seemed genius. But there was one problem: "What do you need me and Honda for?"
Otogi jumped at the opportunity to speak to me directly. "Kaiba's told me about your...affinity for picking locks."
Picking locks?? That was all they needed me for?? "Forget it." I turned to leave.
"Wait!" Otogi cried. God, how womanish. "Look, the grand total of the profits is going to add up to billions and billions of yen. How can you deny this opportunity?"
"What do you and Kaiba need it for, anyway? You've got your own companies, you don't need to steal from others."
Otogi smirked. "I need a spot of more money for a new manufacturer for Dungeon Dice Monsters."
"And I like a challenge," Kaiba chimed in.
I sighed, defeated. They were all right, I did need money. This was probably going to be the only way to get it. "Fine. What's the plan?"
Sota smiled sympathetically, as if he understood my position. "We're going to have a...formal meeting. There are plenty of men involved in this."
Yuuki handed me a card, with an address scribbled upon it. "Go to that dining hall at seven thirty tomorrow evening." As everyone began to clean up and head home, he winked at me. "Bring Honda, and wear a suit, okay?"
A slightly Quentin Tarantino-inspired Yu Gi Oh! fan fic by Heavens to Bikini Kill
--------------
One: Men With Plans
--------------
My name is Jounouchi Katsuya and I used to be in a gang.
When I normally say this, people are tempted to get up and move to the other side of the room. This makes it very difficult to actually talk about what I've done. It makes very little sense, because everyone who is a righteous citizen makes the claim that if teenagers today would just talk about stuff, then we wouldn't be tempted to resort to use mob violence as our weapon of choice.
Hm.
To tell the truth, I was involved in crime more than just once. First, there was my old middle school gang. That was silly. We'd run around Domino smoking stolen cigarettes and getting in fights with high school gangs (wow!). Of course, once we left junior high the fuckers turned into a load of bloody cowards. They went off and picked on those who were half their size, hoping to maintain their reputation. It failed terribly. Then I was briefly involved with a high school gang, but that wasn't working. They liked to drink too much, and it was all actually counterproductive. If a gang could ever be productive.
But enough about school.
I've graduated recently, and as every single adult in my life had anticipated, I have nowhere to go. Think of the setting in that one graphic novel "Ghost World". Much like Enid, I didn't want to stay in town and be the same damn person, but I was apparently too stupid to get into college. Yuugi (and his yami, Atemu) went off to Tokyo University, Anzu actually did move to New York to study dance, Otogi and Kaiba were still in Domino, but that was okay because they had huge corporations to run. Honda actually (gasp!) got himself a job, and he moved out of his folks' house.
There was no way in all of Hell that I was going to stick around with my drunk, worthless father, so I got myself a worthless job washing dishes in a sushi bar and moved in with Honda.
One day, I walked home from the restaurant, smelling like cheap fish, grumbling incoherently (even to myself) about how the customers of Japan were involved in an intricate plot to purposely make us dishwashers scrub harder than the average person. The sky was getting cloudy, and I was sure that the gods were going to make it rain just so they could have a good laugh at me. Damn it. I never bothered to get a damn car.
Tonight, I decided, I was going to curl up in the fetal position on the floor and watch "Reservoir Dogs" all night long. Men in suits with quick, hip dialogue always made me happy. Then I'd follow up with a heavy dosage of "Pulp Fiction", followed by the yakuza slice-and-dice Crazy 86 scene from "Kill Bill: Volume One".
Tires squealed as the driver of whatever car stupidly swerved up to my curb. I turned to see what idiot wanted to look cool, and I wasn't that shocked at the answer. "Kaiba."
"Make inu." He stepped out of the car and leaned against its irritably perfect hood. Rich boy.
"You're still calling me that, you little cunt?" I snorted and pulled out a pack of Camels. I allowed Kaiba to watch one dangle out of my mouth as I continued mocking him. "One would think that you're over high school."
Kaiba snorted and lit the cancer stick hanging out of my mouth. I desired greatly to put it out (how can I possibly smoke something that Kaiba lit?), but economical logic said to forget it. "Hm. You think I'm here just to insult you? Don't flatter yourself, inu."
I laughed right out loud, causing Kaiba to step back for a moment. "Does it make you feel good to insult me?"
"There's nothing about you to be proud of. You're out of high school and the best you can do is work in some sushi bar and live with that pencil-headed moron?"
"And you run a mutlimillion dollar company, the same company you've been throwing in our faces since the TENTH GRADE." I blew smoke directly into his face. "Yeah, Kaiba. I was impressed when I was fifteen."
He snorted and pulled out his own pack of foreign and remarkably expensive cigarettes. He smoked without filters. That's disgusting. "Sixteen, mutt. Can't you count?"
"Please, Kaiba, keep boosting your self-esteem. I need a laugh."
Kaiba grinned and smoked some more, gently tapping the ashes to the concrete. "I'm not here to attempt to match wits with you, inu."
"Hm. Then what the hell do you want?"
Kaiba paused, and opened his car door. "Get in."
"You're joking, right?"
"No joke. Get in. I'll explain on the way."
----
I kept my attention on the side windows as Kaiba drove to wherever. He kept his eyes on the road, and I had to say something. "What the hell is this about?"
Kaiba smirked. Gods, how I hate that smirk. "You need money, right?"
"I didn't know that my matters ever concerned you, twat."
"They don't. You could die of alcohol poisoning with a rod rammed up your ass for all I care." He laughed humorlessly at his newfound wit. "Otogi wanted me to talk to you about this."
"Otogi? That flaming faggot? He thinks I'm gonna have anything to do with him after he tried to hit on me at Yuugi's graduation party?"
Kaiba laughed right out loud. "He says that YOU came on to HIM."
"The man's a liar and a fucking fool." I snapped, and I let the brief exchange die.
Kaiba drove on, staring at the asphalt. He sighed, and pressed on. "There this group of men...they've found a way to make an obscene amount of money...And Otogi wants you and Honda in."
"Really, now." I snorted in contempt. "And what does he want out of it? A free fuck?"
For the first time ever since I had met Kaiba in the tenth grade, he had nothing to say. "Erm..."
I had no idea what the whole idea was supposed to be about, no clue what was the plan, no thought of how much money I could make, but I had only one response: "Forget it."
"You're shitting me." Kaiba must have expected me to jump at the simple opportunity of making money.
"I shit you not. I'm not a whore, Kaiba."
Kaiba grumbled something along the lines of "stupid cunt didn't bother to let me explain" as he swerved towards the entrance of an old, condemned warehouse. "Get out."
"Forget that, too. I'm not going anywhere near Otogi. He'll try to grab my ass again."
"Conceited, are we?"
"You're one to talk."
"We're not in high school anymore, mutt. Get over your insecurities and be a man." He pulled me bodily out of the car and literally threw me at the warehouse's door.
Reluctantly, I pushed it open and stared into a musky room full of men who I didn't know. Kaiba tailed me closely, as if to ensure that I hear these strange people out. I looked around carefully for anyone I might have known, purposely ignoring Otogi.
Kaiba chuckled a bit at my obvious discomfort and pointed to each man. "That's Sota." A tall man with long dreads nodded back, adjusting his tortoiseshell glasses. "Akito." Slightly shorter, another man with blue (blue?), spiked hair and a leather coat covered in studs also nodded. "Hideaki." He kept his hair covered by a ridiculous fedora, and he was too busy with his cigar that he didn't look up. "And Yuuki."
Yuuki floored me (I shouldn't say that...I'm straight, right?). He was ridiculously thin (thinner than Kaiba, I believe), and he dressed simply in a white t-shirt, tight blue jeans, and sneakers. He had a shock of blond, curly hair that he kept only slightly covered with a bandana. He glided across the rough, dirty floor to me and held out a graceful, smooth hand, covered in sliver rings and plastic bracelets. "Pleasure to meet you."
My own big, rough hand shook his with a significant lack of grace. "You remind me of someone I've seen before..."
"Jesse of Operation Ivy?" Yuuki read my mind, and it was creepy. "I'm told that a lot."
"You don't look Japanese, yet you speak the vernacular perfectly."
"I get that a lot too. My mom's American, my dad's from Osaka."
I could see Kaiba rolling his eyes irritably with my peripheral vision, and soon enough he broke us up. "That's enough. Let's explain this to him."
Yuuki dropped my hand and walked back to his table, stretching audibly and spreading his cat-like figure over his chair.
Sota pushed his glasses onto the bridge of his nose as he spoke. "Hideaki has found the passwords for six different banks in Japan. These banks have the accounts of the twelve richest men in Japan, excluding, of course, Kaiba and Otogi."
Otogi grinned at me, and I remembered that he was there. "Kaiba and I keep our money in Swiss accounts. It works."
I looked away from him as if to say, "I do not care," and I rested my attention back to Sota.
He continued. "Obviously, emptying all of these accounts at once will create a long trail of clues, ensuring our collective arrest. Therefore, we will empty these accounts one by one, using different methods."
I was kind of confused. "Excuse me?"
"Rather than just hacking into each system, we intend to implement a plethora of methods to acquire this money. Hold-ups. Brick-and-mortar break-ins. All of it. There will be no way to connect each heist to each other."
I was, once again, floored. The plan seemed genius. But there was one problem: "What do you need me and Honda for?"
Otogi jumped at the opportunity to speak to me directly. "Kaiba's told me about your...affinity for picking locks."
Picking locks?? That was all they needed me for?? "Forget it." I turned to leave.
"Wait!" Otogi cried. God, how womanish. "Look, the grand total of the profits is going to add up to billions and billions of yen. How can you deny this opportunity?"
"What do you and Kaiba need it for, anyway? You've got your own companies, you don't need to steal from others."
Otogi smirked. "I need a spot of more money for a new manufacturer for Dungeon Dice Monsters."
"And I like a challenge," Kaiba chimed in.
I sighed, defeated. They were all right, I did need money. This was probably going to be the only way to get it. "Fine. What's the plan?"
Sota smiled sympathetically, as if he understood my position. "We're going to have a...formal meeting. There are plenty of men involved in this."
Yuuki handed me a card, with an address scribbled upon it. "Go to that dining hall at seven thirty tomorrow evening." As everyone began to clean up and head home, he winked at me. "Bring Honda, and wear a suit, okay?"