Slowly, whatever immunity the dancing crowd had to hyperactive strobe lights and deafening music rubbed off on Yusei. The filthy atmosphere of the room clung to his skin and that he could not ignore or get used to. Perhaps if he'd come here for fun, it would've been a different experience, but Yusei didn't care for playing around. Not when so much was at stake.

People bumped into him left and right. Some were just clumsy dancers. Others tried to pickpocket him, which Yusei had expected and thus all their greedy fingers met with was pocket lint. There were groping hands too, sultry voices of men and women inviting him to dance, but he pushed on through the crowd, slapping away only the most insistent of hands.

There was no sense to the layout of the room. Here, three-fourths of the way from the entrance, was an oversized stage with a sole dancer upon it. She swung around a pole as glittery as her outfit, which was nothing more than a bra and underwear at this point. Security lurked around the bottom of the stage, pulling audience members who got too eager away from the stage. They did nothing about the shouting, though, and lewd words were thrown at the woman as she teased their gazes with a hint of even more skin. Yusei turned away in disgust and took his search elsewhere.

"Hey, pretty boy, wanna buy me a drink?" Arms wound themselves around his neck and a low voice whispered in his ear. Yusei gripped the guy's wrists and turned as he pushed him away.

"I'm not interested."

The stranger smiled at him, amused. He looked right at home in the seedy club, dressed in leather with gaudy silver bracelets and lavender nail polish on. His hair looked like it had been dyed frosty white. "You weren't interested in the prostitutes at the door. You weren't interested in the dancer. But you're also not interested in drinking with another guy. Just what are you interested in?"

"Have you been following me?" Yusei was pissed at himself for not noticing, but it was hard to keep track of anyone in the surge of writhing people. There could be others yet with their eyes on him.

"Sure. You caught my attention when you threw the assistant chief of police to the ground for touching your ass."

Yusei looked over at the bar, remembering the sweaty middle-aged man who'd made a pass at him. "What the hell is he doing in a place like this?"

The stranger shrugged. "What the hell are any of us doing here? Well, I know why I'm here, but I'm still not sure about you."

"Stop following me." Yusei took a step away, wanting to finish scouring the corners of the room so he could return outside. The night air out there might've been polluted, but it was fresher than the unbreathable fumes inside. Despite refusing any alcohol, Yusei knew he was going to wake up with a headache tomorrow.

To his dismay, the stranger stepped forward, closing the space between them again. He studied Yusei's face. "Let me give you some advice."

Yusei stared at him, waiting and hoping that after he'd said his piece he would move on.

"If you don't have a reason to be here, then get out. Right now. Before you can't."

"Is that why you're here?" Yusei asked before he could help himself.

The stranger smiled again, this time wryly. "Think about what I said, Stardust." His fingers ran through Yusei's hair and he walked away. Yusei let himself be touched, too stunned at the nickname to raise a hand against him.

Stardust. He hadn't been called that in years. Not since-

Memories would have to wait, especially bitter ones he didn't want to keep in his head anyway. Yusei headed to the far end of the room to search the last bit. He hadn't been optimistic about his chances of finding what he was looking for in the first place, but disappointment at failing was inevitable. Because it wasn't himself he was failing.

Yusei pulled out a phone from a hidden pocket in his jacket and swiped the screen. It glowed brightly in the dim room. No bars. Yusei clutched it tightly in his hand as he hurried to the exit, pushing open the heavy iron door. He leaned against the brick wall by the club, relieved for the relative peace and quiet of the outside world. The women he'd rejected services from earlier gave him sour looks from the other side of the street as they prowled for other potential customers. Yusei looked at his phone again. Satisfied his call wouldn't drop, he dialed one of the few numbers he knew by heart and listened to the ringing that followed.

A beep and then the answering machine picked up. Yusei cursed under his breath. He'd already left a dozen messages. Any more would be a waste of his time.

He crouched down, knowing he should get back home before it got any darker but needing a moment to rest. Muted music slipped out through the cracks in the door. A song he'd heard on the radio countless times this summer was playing. Its beat made him impatient. He stood up again and headed towards his house, hands in his pockets and eyes flickering around him now and then to make sure he wasn't being followed. Unlike in the club, it wouldn't be easy to tail him out here, but the law of the land was better safe than dead in a ditch.

He made it to the run-down apartment complex he'd been living in for the past three months. The security guard the landlord had been pressured into hiring after a series of break-ins was dozing in a chair by the door. Yusei nudged the chair's legs as he walked by. Before the front door closed behind him, he heard the guard jump up with a start, shouting, "Who's there?"

Yusei took the stairs to the top floor and let himself into his apartment. The lock had been broken when he moved in, so he'd made his own locking device and a special key that would be hard to duplicate. His other deterrent to burglars was that he had nothing worth stealing. An old futon, a cabinet of cup noodles, and a rusty air conditioner he'd salvaged from a dumpster were about the only things that could be taken.

As much as he hated to admit it, he was going to have to go back to the club. He stretched out on his futon after taking off his boots and closed his eyes. The club was his only lead. Tomorrow, he would talk to any patrons he'd seen tonight. Regulars were more likely to know things of interest. He wondered if he should've asked the stranger who'd spoken with him, but Yusei sensed something off about him. He was someone to keep his distance from.

"Stardust."

The nickname echoed through his mind and he sighed. Was it his eyes? His hair? Why did people call him that? Yusei willed himself into a dreamless sleep, mind guarded against childhood memories trying to slip back in.

There was no such thing as a good customer, but some were much worse than others. Right now Kiryu wished it were anyone else on the bed above him, pounding into his body still tender from the previous night and awkwardly stroking his face now and then, as though to help Kiryu enjoy himself, as though he'd be there if there was the remotest choice otherwise. It was a blessing the room was so dark; the blatant disgust written on Kiryu's face would not make for a repeat customer.

Everyone that invited him into their hotel room saw him as a tool, not a person. Just a device to get them off. Even if Kiryu could accept that, there were inevitably customers who broke the pattern and forced him to adjust to some new torture. Sometimes, consideration was crueler than disdain. This older man who'd shelled out a decent amount of money that Kiryu would never see had seemed a bit hesitant at first. Maybe this was his first time with a prostitute. Kiryu didn't know, and he didn't care. After his client came, Kiryu expected to be freed, but instead a clammy hand wrapped around Kiryu's cock and he tried to get Kiryu to come, too.

Kiryu forced a weak smile. "You don't have to do that. I'm here for your service, remember?"

The man hushed him in perhaps what he thought was a gentle tone. "Doesn't it feel good?"

It feels like I'm going to snap and rip your eyeballs from your sockets, was what Kiryu thought. The answer he gave was a noncommittal hum.

His body began began to respond, regardless of how his mind felt. Just hurry up and get it over with! he wanted to scream. No wonder this guy had to resort to paying for sex. He had no idea what he was doing and Kiryu's skilled finger work earlier apparently hadn't given him any tips.

When at last he came, his cum spraying across his stomach, his sigh of relief was genuine. Now he could go home.

But it wasn't over. His client shoved him back into the pillow and kissed him deeply. As if driven by the need to dominate all of Kiryu's openings, he thrust his tongue into his mouth and swirled it around. Kiryu gagged and pushed him away. "I fucked you, now we're done." He slid off the bed and felt around for his clothes.

The man made a sound of displeasure, but he didn't try to stop Kiryu. He said, "You can clean up before you go."

"It's fine." Truthfully, he couldn't wait to shower the session away, but first he wanted to get as far from the man as possible. His clothes clung to him uncomfortably where he was damp from sweat and cum, but he ignored it as he left, closing the door firmly behind him.

He went out the same way he came in, a staircase in the back of the hotel that no one seemed to use. In the stairwell, he paused and leaned against the wall. He placed his fingers to his lips and tried to wipe away the bad taste. It was so strange. He'd been fucked countless times, but that had been his first kiss.

Everything was taken from him in the end.

He forced himself to move again, out the emergency exit and into the muggy night. He couldn't take the bus back in his state, so he walked fast towards his prison and home, trying to think of something that could make the long walk pass quickly. Scenes from the club that evening came into his mind. Scouting for customers, winking discreetly at old ones, and then that guy his age who'd seemed out of place in an indescribable way.

I gave him good advice, Kiryu thought. But I get the feeling he's not going to take it. Oh, well, I tried.

Kiryu let himself in through the front door and locked it behind him. There weren't any lights on inside, which was a good sign. When Kiryu didn't hear anything, he figured he had to be home alone. He went into the upstairs bathroom, stripped his clothes off, and turned the water up as hot as it would go. It scalded his skin and he smiled, knowing nothing would be left of the old man on him.

A knock at the door snapped him out of his reverie. "Occupied," he shouted over the sound of the shower.

Divine's honey-sweet voice replied, "Will you be done soon? There's something I need to discuss with you."

Kiryu looked down at his feet, which were blocking the drain and causing the water to pool at his feet. He kicked at it and watched the ripples fight with the water falling from above. "Dunno. Could be awhile."

"If you want to use up all the hot water, go ahead. I'll be waiting for you downstairs."

Kiryu scowled and shut the water off. His peaceful shower had been ruined. He wrapped a towel around his waist and crossed the hall to his room. The mirror hanging on the wall distracted him. Had he always had so many scars? He knocked it off its nail with his shoulder as he passed so that it fell with a thud on the wooden floor, then he kicked it under the bed.

There wasn't much to choose from in his closet. He threw on shorts and an old red shirt and left the towel on the floor. Reluctantly, he went down to the dining room, where Divine was sipping a glass of wine and reading some French novel. Kiryu took the chair across from him and said, "So?"

Divine bookmarked his page and took another drink before answering. "I'm going on a business trip. I'll be gone for a week."

Kiryu stared at him for a moment. "That's why you interrupted my shower time?" He started to get up.

"Actually, there's one more thing." Another drink, another pause. Kiryu fidgeted in his chair. "I don't want you to leave the house while I'm gone."

"What!?" Kiryu looked at him in disbelief. "What am I supposed to do for an entire week?"

"It's a big house. I'm sure you'll be fine."

"No way," Kiryu said. "And it's not like you can make me from wherever you're going."

"That's true. But, Kiryu," Divine said, "is that any way to repay all I've done for you? By refusing my simple requests of you?"

Kiryu seethed. "Don't play innocent with me! I don't owe you anything!" The falseness of his words crushed his fighting spirit, though. "Why does it matter anyway, where I am?" Kiryu asked, adopting a different approach.

"Because if I'm not here to keep an eye on you, you'll inevitably end up in trouble. I'm just looking out for you."

"No one asked you to." Kiryu stood up and turned his back. "I'll do whatever I want."

Divine sighed as he walked away, but Kiryu refused to look back. "When you get into trouble, don't say I didn't warn you. Think over my words tonight. Maybe you'll be more agreeable after you've rested up from your... ordeal."

"Shut up!"

Kiryu remembered the wet, clumsy tongue exploring his mouth, the sweaty hands all over his lower half, and cringed. Divine's cold hands touched his shoulders and he flinched, to his embarrassment.

Divine turned him around and smiled at him. "You'll have a week all to yourself, you see. No customers, no responsibilities. I'm just asking you not to stray."

An entire seven days without his body being violated. He hadn't had the kind of rest for so long. He looked away and nodded. "Fine. Whatever."

"Good boy." Divine squeezed one of his shoulders and let him go, returning to his wine and book. Kiryu went to the kitchen, poured himself a drink, downed it in one gulp, and went back to his room.

Exhaustion came all at once. Kiryu laid down on his futon and reached over to the side, where a small bottle was. He poured two pills from it into his palm and swallowed them quickly to minimize the bitter aftertaste. He buried his face into his pillow and willed himself to sleep.

It was day three of Divine's absence and Kiryu was bored out of his mind. He'd watched all the movies Divine owned, mended his old clothes, and read part of a book on personality disorders before deciding it was as tedious as the rest of Divine's library. Free time had no right to be so dull. He even missed the club despite all the sleazy people that hung around it and had debated going the previous night, dressing up and fixing his hair and everything, before halting at the front door and giving up on the idea.

Now he was stretched out on the sofa in the spacious living room, flipping through the variety shows and trashy dramas on television. He watched some celebrity he'd never heard of answer questions about her personal life and dating preferences before he got fed up with the pointlessness of it and turned it off. The resulting silence was unbearable. He reached over for the nearest distraction and his fingers met a stack of newspapers.

He picked up the top one and looked at the front page. People dying, people winning elections and promising to keep more people from dying, people who won last year's elections being caught in lies. Only one thing caught his eye. Near the bottom, next to an article about the Chief of Police Rex Godwin's new campaign for mayor of Neo Domino, was a picture of his adopted son.

"Jack Atlas," Kiryu read slowly. It was obviously an English name. He decided he liked it. It had a strong sound quality to it. He read the part of the article relevant to him:

Jack Atlas (pictured right) was adopted at the age of sixteen from an orphanage in the Satellite district of Neo Domino. A recent graduate of Neo Domino University, Mr. Atlas is speculated to intend to follow his father's footsteps into the political realm, but he was unavailable for comment as of press time.

"Jack Atlas. Jack Atlas." Kiryu repeated his name aloud. He wondered how Jack had ended up in the Satellite district. It was the objectively worst place to live in all of Neo Domino and it wasn't so far past the club he frequented.

I bet Godwin only adopted him to look good, Kiryu thought. Like a real humanitarian. He'd heard about how little the police involved themselves in the Satellite district. If a criminal wanted to hide, or if an important figure in society wanted to dabble in the illegal, they could do so there and the police would turn a blind eye.

Losing interest, Kiryu tossed the paper aside and closed his eyes. He had little else to do with his time besides nap.

Jack Atlas, huh? I bet he's rich, if he's Godwin's kid. I wonder if he knows how to deal with all that money since he came from Satellite.

I wonder.

Kiryu's eyes flew open. "What the hell am I doing in this place!?" Suddenly, he couldn't remember why he'd agreed to abide by Divine's instructions. There was no reason to and a thousand reasons not to. The walls were closing in on him and he had to get out, right then.

He ran upstairs and started throwing things into a backpack. Twice as many shirts went in as pants and he forgot socks all together, but he was in too much of a hurry to double-check anything. After forcing his cell phone and pill bottles in the tiny gap left above the clothes, he zipped the backpack shut and went downstairs to put his shoes on. The laces had been double-knotted and he couldn't untie them, so he used a pocketknife to cut them off in annoyance.

He didn't look back and didn't bother to lock the door behind him. If anyone stole Divine's stuff, that was his own problem. Kiryu took off running again, vaguely towards downtown, but he couldn't picture any destination. As long as he wasn't trapped in Divine's cage, it would be preferable, so he went fast and far. He had to slow down when the streets got more crowded and people started staring at him.

A giddy smile crossed his face. Freedom had been so close after all; he'd only had to embrace it. He hummed to himself as he weaved through the streets, backtracking and going in circles, letting his feet do all the thinking for him. Slowly, the scenery around him changed. Where there had been office buildings and parking lots, there were now three-story houses and elaborate gardens. He'd made it the Tops, which meant he'd been walking for a long time. At this realization, his feet started to hurt, but it was fine. He was close now.

A fundraiser for Godwin's campaign took place on his estate this past month. The police bureau's current Chief of Special Investigations, Sagiri Mikage, is pictured to the right greeting guests as they enter the party.

The house looked just as it had in the paper, but grander without the black-and-white imaging toning it down. A carefully arranged zen garden was partly visible behind the house and in front was a series of shrubs in bloom. There were no lights on inside. Kiryu checked his cell phone. It was the middle of the afternoon, so Godwin was probably at work.

"Which is his room?" Kiryu whispered to himself. He looked around to make sure no one was watching, darted across the street and through the gate, and around back to observe the rooms visible through the windows there. Even then, he had no clear goal in mind. He was merely obeying the whims of each subsequent moment, and right now, they had him with his face pressed to the glass, peering through a slit in a curtain into one of the fanciest rooms he'd ever seen. There was a huge flat-screen television hanging on the wall and a semi-circle of a leather couch in front of it. An expensive sound system was in all four corners of the room, right next to potted plants of vibrant colors. It was amazing, but it wasn't what he was looking for.

So, he was just going to have to take a closer look.

He took out his pocketknife again and worked at the window's lock. It took less than a minute for him to get it open and crawl through into the living room. He shut it behind him and relocked it before creeping silently down a long hallway and up a spiral staircase. There was no one to be heard, no housekeeper or pets of any sort, and Kiryu was counting on his luck to keep up. He tried each door on the top floor until he found what had to be Jack's room.

It was every bit as fancy and well-kept as the rest of the house, but there were signs that it belonged to someone younger. There was a bookshelf with pictures and books Kiryu barely glanced at and a balcony he vowed to check out later. A handheld game console was on the bedside table next a stack of pamphlets with the names of various graduate schools on them. The bed itself was of great interest to Kiryu. He dropped his backpack and hopped on it. It was so soft that for awhile, he laid there, relaxing against the silk pillowcases.

There was a door across from the one he'd came in from, so he made himself get up and check it out. It led into a bathroom almost half the size of the bedroom. The shower had golden knobs and settings Kiryu'd never heard of before. I bet you could wash away all the bad nights of the world here, he marveled. Overtaken by the desire to try it out, he locked the bathroom door and turned the knobs until the water was at a comfortable temperature. He left his clothes in a pile and got into it. The water itself seemed superior to all he'd ever known, and Kiryu knew it was fate that had led him here.

Everything was going to be okay. Divine couldn't touch him here. No one could. Reveling in his invincibility, Kiryu relaxed in the water's flow, already feeling at home.

Jack Atlas looked at motorcycle after motorcycle in disdain. "Are these all you've got?" he demanded of the salesman, who flinched at the force of his words.

"These models are of the highest caliber, I assure you, sir," he said. "Perhaps if you gave me an idea of what you're looking for..."

"The best motorcycle there is." He would accept nothing less, and nothing had met this expectation since he'd arrived at the motorcycle dealership. He couldn't put into words what was lacking in the machines around him; he simply knew they weren't worthy of belonging to him.

The salesman led him over to another row and gestured at a blue and chrome machine. "How about this one? It has power and style, and is available for low monthly payments of just-"

"Money is no issue." Jack crossed his arms. "Don't hide the good stuff just because you think I won't be able to afford it."

The salesman looked at him skeptically, then his eyes widened in recognition. "Could you be... Are you Rex Godwin's son?"

"What business is that of yours?" Jack snapped. He cursed the newspaper that had run a picture of him next an article that had nothing to do with him, just his adoptive father. Now strangers did double-takes as he walked by and it was getting on his nerves.

"Nothing, nothing at all! Come this way, please."

At least knowing who Jack was convinced him he wasn't just some kid stopping by to waste his time. The motorcycles Jack was shown next looked more promising, and at the end of the row, he found the one meant for him. It was a soft silver with purple touches, and when the salesman allowed him to sit on it and turn it on, the engine roared to life beautifully.

"I'll take it," Jack said, pulling out the credit card that he kept nestled right next to his new license.

"Are you paying in full, sir?" the salesman asked, looking stunned. Jack just stared at him until he took the card. A few pieces of paperwork later and the motorcycle belonged entirely to him.

He'd taken the bus to the dealership, so he planned on driving the bike back. That idiot better not tell everyone he knows I was here, Jack thought. It was extremely unlikely word would get back to Godwin, but Jack knew what a snoop his father was, so he'd had to take a number of precautions to acquire the motorcycle after Godwin'd told him he wasn't allowed to own any such thing.

The most important one was having a place to keep the motorcycle. He drove past the Tops until he reached a more modest neighborhood and pulled into one of the driveways there. He knocked on the door and a woman opened almost immediately.

"Jack!" She hugged him before he could move out of arm's reach. "I was just thinking of you."

Jack grunted. "Keep this here for me, got it?" He thumbed at the bike.

"Of course. I already told you I would." She beamed at him reassuringly.

Though Carly could be overbearing in her friendship, Jack couldn't deny there were perks to having her around, and this was just one example of why.

He said, "I'll walk over here and get it whenever I need to." He started to leave but she grabbed his arm.

"You can't leave already," she protested. "Come on in, I'll make some tea."

"Don't you have work to be doing?" he asked.

She let go of him. "Oh no, that's right! I have an article due at midnight. Sorry, but I guess I will have to make that tea later."

"Maybe next time, then." He nodded at her and headed back home. It was a long walk, but he passed up all the bus stops anyway. Since graduating college, he'd had little to do besides think of ways to avoid Godwin. Having such long legs was a disadvantage in this respect. Even taking his time, he ended up at home far sooner than he would've liked. Fortunately, Godwin's car wasn't there, so he must have been working overtime.

Jack headed up to his room and came to a stop a foot from his door. Something was wrong; he could sense it. He threw his door open and looked around, prepared to defend himself and his belongings against any burglars.

What he was not prepared for was a man his age asleep in his bed, curled up with his pillow. The noise of the door opening woke him. The man sat up slowly, stretched, and then smiled at him.

"Welcome back, Jack."

And welcome, all my readers, to my new fic. This time, I want to capture the dark, gritty tone of the first season of 5D's and explore the unsavory corners of a Satellite-esque area.

Thanks for reading, and please tell me what you think so far. If you want to see more of this story, let me know!