Chapter One

Domino Effect

AN: Hello, Yu-Gi-Oh readers and writers. I met this idea out of the blue, fell in love and ran its features through my head until I could get onto my computer. Anyway, this'll be my first fanfiction for this fandom, and I hope it does these great characters justice! And with no further adieu, I present to you an AU Yu-Gi-Oh!

"Malik, it's time for dinner."

A tall woman, gifted with lovely mocha skin kissed by a harsh sun complimented by her shoulder-length glossy black hair, stood outside an old and faded blue door. She knocked on the door gently, and waited for a moment before pressing her ear against it. She was wearing a white straight-cut dress that flared at the bottom along with golden flats made of a rough and coarse material. Around her slim neck lay a gold necklace accented by the beautiful pendant strung about it, which radiated brilliant hues of red, orange and yellow onto the door and time-chipped walls.

There was no reply, aside from the sound of frantic scribbling on paper, and the woman chewed the inside of her cheek as a contemplative look flashed across her face. With a heavy sigh, she knocked hard enough for the door to actively rattle. "Malik, you don't want your food to get cold, do you?"

"I'm studying. I'm not hungry," came the slightly muted reply, and the woman's dark eyes closed as she smiled gently in response to the snub. At once, she began banging on the door so hard the rusty nails in the hinges began to unscrew.

"Get out of that room before I bust open this door," she seethed as she continued bashing her fist against the old wood. A long and haggard sigh came from inside the room, and the sound of a chair scraping back made the woman cease her assault. Albeit creakily, the abused door opened up wide a few moments later.

Leaning in the doorway, with his arms crossed and a book in one hand, was a tall boy in his late teens, his skin the same gorgeous brown tone as hers. He had strange, washed-out blond hair and even stranger purple eyes that were flat with annoyance. He wore a gold wrist bracelet on each of his wrists, both engraved with Egyptian hieroglyphics, and a plain black shirt with carpenter jeans and golden pyramid earrings. He was barefooted, and his sour face suggested he had been interrupted at an inconvenient time.

"Yes, O Isis the goddess?" Malik said with sarcastic humility, with a gratuitous roll of his eyes. "What can your lowly servant, Malik, who was studying oh so sinfully, do to serve you now?"

"It's Ishizu," she corrected him coolly as he played absently with the tattered forest green carpet underneath his feet with his toes, "and if you really feel so obliging, I want you to come eat your food, as I said before."

"Too bad I'm not hungry, like I said before," he retorted mockingly, his stance obstinately defiant. Ishizu looked at him for a long moment with entirely impassive eyes before snatching away his book with the speed of a cobra. "Wha - hey!" He protested angrily as she held it out of his reach.

"Are you hungry now?" She asked, her voice infuriatingly calm, and Malik glared at her sulkily before stuffing his hands into his pockets in defeat. Satisfied with her small victory, Ishizu led Malik down the torturously narrow hallway that was lined with a hideously green and battered carpet. She opened the last door on her left slowly, revealing the most wretched kitchen and dining room humanity had ever conceived as she went inside.

The one light source was from a flickering light bulb that looked like it could have belonged to Thomas Edison himself, hanging by a thin wire in the center of the room, and the kitchen was so cramped that it was practically a large closet with half-functional appliances. The walls were a gross orange that resebled regurgitated orange juice and the greyed tiles, once white, were badly chipped or even gone completely. In the dining room section of the small space there was no table, but there were three quite unreliable-looking wooden chairs. At the sight of this eyesore Malik shivered, his upper lip curling with distaste.

Disgusting.

Ishizu handed him a plate of rice mixed with lentils, chicken peas and macaroni, topped with chunky tomato sauce and fried onions. Malik deeply inhaled the aromatic smell it gave off, and licked his lips as a grin crept into his cheeks despite himself.

"Kushari tonight. Your favorite," Ishizu said with a small but sincere smile, passing him a fork, before her mouth went back to being a straight line of impermeable indifference. "Dig in."

Malik moved to sit on one of the rickety chairs, flinching as it groaned warningly, and once he placed the food on his lap he began to devour his dinner with rampant hunger. As Ishizu watched him eat, her arms crossed, he turned to her with a mouthful of kushari.

"Why don't you eat something, Isis?" Malik asked, swallowing the food in his mouth with a gulp. Ishizu looked away from his inquiring eyes with a soft sigh.

"I ate already," the elegant woman replied, staring at the peeling orange paint with a sort of solemness about her. Malik snorted, and Ishizu snapped her head around to look at him bemusedly as he chortled.

"You're worried about Odion, aren't you?" Malik asked bluntly, his mouth curling in a teasing sneer as he stuffed more kushari into his mouth. Ishizu's straight face melted briefly into a mild sort of shock for a moment before she pulled herself together again into her serious facade.

"Why should I be worried about Rishid? He's a grown man." She looked at him to peg him with a motherly scowl. "Which is more than I can say for you, Malik Ishtar."

Malik bristled at this comment. "I'm sixteen, Isis. You're only four years older than me, so don't treat me like a child." He snarled bad-temperately at her.

"You may be sixteen physically, but you're still as temperamental as you've always been," Ishizu replied offhandedly. "And I doubt that'll ever change though. At least you're intelligent enough to make up for such a handicapping fault." She stroked her chin thoughtfully. "But you're much too serious about studying, so that's another flaw..."

"Thanks for the encouragment." Malik muttered as she continued to rabble on about his various faults. He ate in complete silence for a while before Ishizu turned to leave the room abruptly.

"I have to go run some errands, Malik. I'll be back in a bit," she said reassuringly, her eyes ever-unreadable. "Don't burn this shack down while I'm gone." And with that she was gone, the front door opening with a creak and closing with a rattle.

The moment she departed, the boy scarfed down the last of his kushari like a starved wolf before standing to his feet in a hurry. He dumped his dirty plate in the tiny excuse of a sink before grabbing a pair of worn black sneakers, hastily shoving his left shoe onto the corresponding foot as he hopped towards the door. As he got the other shoe on, he yanked open the door and was greeted by a breath of spring air that caressed his smooth skin with a soothing gentleness. As he soaked in the feeling of fleeting contentedness, the sun shone gently onto his form, halfway done the slope of the sky.

With a slight smile, the boy hurried down the rickety steps that led to his dump of a home and turned left, heading towards the towering skyscrapers and clusters of elegant buildings better known as Domino City. As he traversed further downtown, he couldn't help but admire the suits and exquisite clothing the various passerby men and women sported so casually. As he crossed the busy streets and expertly avoided oncoming traffic, he couldn't help but brood ruefully.

They don't know how lucky they are.

He had been raised in poverty, surviving with his siblings in the unforgiving underbelly of Egypt, until they had finally escaped to the world-renown business-oriented city of Domino on nearly non-existant funds. Now, Malik was thirsting to become a business elite that could easily support his small family, and adamant in the mindset that perhaps, with a lot of effort, his thirst would be quenched.

"Today's my day," he said confidently as he pushed past a rushing crowd, and faced the biggest building in the entirety of the huge city. He craned his neck to see that sign he had longed to finally glimpse gloriously up close and personal.

KNK CORP.

The massive structure had lovely green and blue safety glass that glimmered blindingly with the ebbing light of the afternoon sun. The polished steel was flawless even to the most critical eye, and the sidewalk surrounding the majestic building seemed to be revered by the passing civilians. Malik let the company's name drop from his lips softly, his eyes bright with unconfined excitement and eagerness as he took out a rumpled page from within his pocket and unfolded it to read the hope-filled words once more

Office help at KNK CORP. Basic requirements are passing marks, good recommendations and a willingness to work. Do not come in late or unkempt. You will be expected to be on time, all the time, and you will also be expected to be hospitable to all under any circumstances

Interviews taking place for a week KNK. See the front office for more details.

"This is my chance," Malik breathed, a knot of anticipation forming in his stomach, and he began his walk towards the enormous green glass double doors with a hushed air ofreverence about him. Priggish people glanced at him, some with fleeting curiosity and others with snobbish disdain. He ignored all of them, an awe-filled trembling afflicting his body, and reached for the silver handle polished to with careful and cautious hands. With the release of a breath he hadn't realize he was holding, he entered into KNK with an innate pride that was undiminished by the wealth surrounding him.

The first floor was aglow with pale green fluorescent lighting that cast strange yet lovely patterns across the shiny white tiles that lined the entire ground. People hustled about the place with intense expressions that held not an inkling of a want for idle chit-chat. Malik admired the white granite and stainless steel desk that a stoic woman sat behind, her sour and wrinkled face suggesting she'd rather be elsewhere as she fiddled with uniform that had a KNK emblem on the breast pocket. As the Egyptian approached her, pushing his way through the crowds of various people, she looked up and openly grimaced as she locked eyes with him.

"Welcome to KNK CORP. How may I assist you this afternoon?" she asked, her perpetual frown practically carved into her face. Malik smiled back at the wrinkled woman although his lids lowering dangerously.

"I came to be interviewed," he answered her politely, his manner impeccable. She raised a gray brow and blatantly looked him over head to toe with disdain.

"You want an interview,' she repeated disbelievingly, and Malik nodded curtly in response.

"Yes ma'am. Is there a problem?" he asked her, his smile never failing, and she shook her head as if to help herself fall back into vain professionalism, clearing her throat awkwardly.

"No, not at all sir. If I may ask your name?" she said, looking abruptly flustered at her display of rather open discrimanation. Malik smiled even wider, and bowed respectfully at the waist.

"Malik Ishtar at your service," he replied, his face shining pleasantly like a beacon. The woman cleared her throat once more, obviously uncomfortable with his impossible politeness, and pointed down a hallway to the right of her desk with a large gray elevator at the end of it.

"Take the elevator to the fourtieth floor. Then go to the floor's front desk, and they'll be happy to assist you. I'll call them now and let them know you're coming up, Mr. Ishtar."

She picked up a black cord phone and pressed a button, holding it to her ear, and Malik wisely took this as an unofficial dismissal. With growing anticiapation, the Egyptian walked over to the huge elevator, which was conviently open already, and squeezed himself in between a stick-thin man with a briefcase and a lady a bit on the plump side.

He looked about the fancy elevator with disbelief. This elevator's larger than our kitchen, Malik thought with a longing sigh. Our place probably isn't even comparable with this place's oldest trash bin here.

"What floor," came a man's low and impatient grunt, and Malik blinked stupidly for a moment.

"Fortieth," he managed to gasp out as the plump lady backed him against the back wall with her girth. "If you please." He got a few surprised stares, and there came a beep as the man obliged to Malik's request.

The doors closed, and Malik nearly gasped as the elevator skyrocketed up at an insane speed before stopping. A few people filed out, but the large woman obstinately opted to stay right where she was. Malik felt his head spinning as the doors closed and the elevator shot up again, and he felt his kushari swimming dangerously high inside his stomach. As the woman finally moved after five more floor stops, Malik saw that his floor was still a couple of stops away and held his stomach discreetly, trying to ignore the urge to not-so-dry-heave.

Finally, the elevator opened onto the fourtieth floor, and Malik stumbled out gratefully, his dark face tinted an unhealthy green. "Thank god that's over..." he exhaled, standing still for a moment so he could regain relative peace in his innards. "I thought I was going to die..."

He stood up straight after a moment or two to look around. The tiles here were even shinier than the those on the ground floor, and Malik couldn't look at the floor for too long for fear of going blind from the brilliant polishing. The trendy lights hanging from the sky blue ceiling made the room impossibly light and airy-feeling, and Malik couldn't help admiring the utter wealth flaunted in every detail.

He approached the desk and smiled at the young secratary, and she lifted the corners of her lips cordially. She was certainly pretty, with inky black short hair and equally dark eyes, and she stared up into his eyes with a warm expression on her pixie-like face. She wore the same uniform as the sour woman, although this young lady pulled it off considerably better than the discriminatory raisin.

"Would you be Malik Ishtar? Here for an interview?" She asked him, and he nodded, noticing a very fancy black and blue earpiece in her left ear. Suddenly her smile split into a wide sneer, and Malik blanched as she laughed out loud in a rather unpleasant manner before stopping suddenly to look him dead in the eyes.

"You sure you want to try out for this job?" She demanded, and he blinked, a bit miffed by her question.

"But of course," he replied, and she shook her head as she chortled with no humour.

"Ha. I just hope you know what you're signing up for." Were her only words for him as she pressed on her earpiece with two fingers and it made a hollow beep. "Tell the boss I'm sending another one up."

"Really? That's number fifteen. I wonder how long it'll take for this one to bolt," came the steely reply, and Malik stared in disbelief as the woman clicked her earpiece off and smiled at him like she had been discussing the poetic beauty of a blue dolphin.

"Well, I'll show you to his office." The woman got up with vigour and gestured for him to follow. Malik obliged with growing unease as they walked down a considerably quieter hallway.

Is all of this drama just some sick test? he wondered, and grimaced at the thought. No matter; I've seen things far worse than whoever she's taking me to, he said, standing tall. The pixie lady looked over her shoulder at him with that practised smile of hers.

"Well, Mr. Ishtar, you seem quite confident." She stated as they approached a massive black door with a golden name plate. "I'm curious to see how far thattakes you."

Malik shot her a look of bewilderment at her blatant skepticism as she patted his shoulder with something akin to sympathy, and knocked on the intimidanting door with a swift rapping. The shifting of someone in the room was the only response as the lady called to the mystery person.

"I have a young man wig me who's interested in having one of those job openings," she said, her voice extremely respectful, and a voice as cold and controlled as Malik had ever heard replied with an unnatural iciness in their voice.

"Bring him in."

Suddenly Malik felt as if he was running full-speed towards the gates of hell, and he glanced at the woman who only offered him a blithe smile. With an unnatural swiftness, she opened the door and shoved him in without remorse before slamming the door shut, leaving Malik on the wrong side of the river. He recovered from the abrupt push and straightened his posture, dusting himself off and suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious.

I never dreamed I'd be interviewed by someone so high up so soon!

The first thing he noticed was the enormous window in the center of the opposite wall that let the sun's light into the room quite pleasantly, slightly muted by velvety blue drapes. The floor was comprised of pure white carpet, the entrance to the room paved with light blue tile, and there was not the slightest of stains in sight. There were bookshelves filed with expensive looking trinkets and various books, and in the dead center of the room was a magnificent desk made of black marble and mahogany. Behind this great desk was a black leather chair that currently had its back towards Malik, and the he could make out golden lettering on the back that read-

"Seto Kaiba, at your service," came the icy voice, and Malik straightened up as the chair suddenly swivelled around to reveal a surprisingly young and handsome man, with brown hair combed ever-so-carefully and eyes that were as cold as his voice. He wore a white suit with gold trimming and a light blue tie, and his eyes instantly locked with Malik's, the intensity in the room almost sliceable.

...I'm having an interview with one of the world's most famous businessmen? Malik thought in disbelief, the gears in his brain grinding to a halt. What.

"Of course, it's you who will serve me, if you are chosen," he deadpanned, and the Egyptian blinked at the unexpected jab. "So, Ishtar. I've seen sixteen applicants today, including you. What makes you think I'd hire you and not one of them?"

"I'm pliable," Malik began, with a sort of calmness Kaiba hadn't seen in most people directly thrown into the chill of his aura, "I have excellent scores in school, and every place I've worked has commended my work ethic."

Kaiba said nothing, and something about the look in his eyes prompted Malik to continue.

"I'm currently preparing to major in business when I go to college, in order step towards becoming the head of a major company," he continued with an impassive expression on his face, and looked directly into Kaiba's eyes with an icy determination the steely young man hadn't seen in many people aside from himself. "So this job, if everything goes according to plan, will be the first step to my business career success."

"So why do you want to be an executive of a company?" Kaiba asked, his expression ever stoic. Malik blinked, and the executive noticed how his eyes seemed to dim and become a bit guarded. "There's obviously something intense driving you to work under me." His blue eyes flickered to the silver laptop in front of him as it beeped and began to type something in reply with his long fingers as Malik cleared his throat.

"I'm sick of being walked over," he replied, and Kaiba noted the edge of solemness in Malik's voice mingled with a tinge of darkness. "It's time for the roles to swap."

"...I see." Kaiba looked back up at him, and Malik could swear he saw the ghost of a smile on Kaiba's lips before it faded and his face was once again stoic. "Well, Ishtar, I've come to the conculsion that you're a rather interesting applicant. However, I must to consider all the other one-hundred and fifty seven applicants I've met with so far. If you make the cut, you will recieve a call."

"Well, here's my number then," Malik began to rummage in the depths of his pockets for a paper and pen, but Kaiba held up a hand with a shake of his head. The Egyptian looked at him with confusion as the executive folded his hands and propped them under his chin.

"No need. It won't be difficult contacting you if it's necessary." The executive's lips tugged up into a proud smirk for a moment. "Information digging is mere child's play."

Malik blanched, a bit unnerved by his statement. "Just how much do you know about me?" He asked, his eyes projecting his slight unease. Kaiba shrugged nonchalantly.

"The basics. Your name, where you attend school, your GPA, your behavioural records and your race." He replied, with an air of petrifying indifference. "Nothing too personal." The executive watched as Malik's gaze once again become flat with neutrality.

"Right. Good to know." he sighed, running a hand through his white-blond locks with a sort of impatience. "I can leave now, correct?" He asked, the image of an angry Ishizu looming in his mind's eye. She's going to kill me when I get home, isn't she?

"Yes." And with that, the executive turned back around to look out his window. Malik lingered for a couple of seconds before turning away and opening the black door. He hesitated and looked over his shoulder at the cold executive with a small but genuine smile.

"Have a good evening, Mr. Kaiba." And with that the door closed with a soft thud, the laptop on the counter top rattling slightly with the vibration. Kaiba exhaled slowly as he stared up at the sky idly, his eyes emotionless and steely.

"...A good evening." He muttered as he watched a pigeon circling pointlessly in the sky, its dusty gray wings vibrant in the rays of the setting sun. "Malik Ishtar, hm?"

As Malik quietly opened and closed the door to the Ishtar abode, he slipped off his shoes as silently as possible and tucked them into a corner neatly. His mouth was pressed into a tight line of concentration as he pressed his body to the wall, and inched himself along it with the feeling of growing dread winding constricting circles around his stomach. He slipped past the kitchen with a stealth that would have made any ninja envious, and let the corners of his lips turn up as he saw his room in sight. With a grin, he opened the door and shot into his room like a bullet, closing the door shut behind him as he breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

"Nice of you to drop by," said a tight voice in such a faux-calm manner that it was unnerving. Malik's blood froze as his desk light flickered on and weakly illuminated the room to reveal Ishizu, sitting in his plain wooden desk chair with her legs crossed. Her eyes were narrowed, her dark brows were furrowed deeply and her mouth was turned down in a prominent frown.

"Since when did I invite you to lounge into my room?" Malik asked, peeved at her invasion of his privacy, and she curled her lip in a manner eeriely similiar to his.

"Around the same time you decided sneaking out without telling me where you were going was cool," she retorted testily as she rode to her feet, and Malik sensed that giving her lip would not be the best way to go. He was silent as she stood to her feet with a sigh of frustration as she clasped one of her hands in the other.

"Why didn't you just tell me you wanted to go out? I wouldn't have stopped you...most likely." She stared at him suspiciously. "Unless you're participating in illicit deeds..." she murmured as she assessed his appearance, looking for tell-tale signs of drug-use. "Even though you're an honor-roll junior in highschool you might -"

"Of course not," Malik snapped, and shook his head as he focused his gaze onto a large stain on his wall. "That's a waste of both my precious time and nonexistent money."

Ishizu fixed him with an expectant stare, and eventually Malik looked at her steadily with evident irritation.

"What do you want?" He demanded, and she put her hands on her hips.

"So I take it you're not going to tell me where you went," she determined, and Malik obstinately kept his mouth clamped shut. With a long and tired sigh Ishizu shrugged, crossing her arms as she turned to leave his room. "Suit yourself." And with that the Egyptian woman was gone.

Malik let out a sigh of his own as he slumped onto his second-hand desk, his eyes lidded and swimming with exhaustion. "She's too nosy," he muttered as his cheek pressed against the cold dark wood of the desk.

The next thing Malik knew, the sound of his late alarm was blaring loudly, and he jumped to his feet as he glanced at his dingy digital clock with extremely bleary eyes.

7:40.

It took a moment for the significance of the hour to sink into Malik's foggy brain.

"Crap," he groaned, and yanked open the yellowing curtains shading his window. Light filtered in, revealing a twin bed in a corner with a frayed royal purple blanket thrown over it, and a large bookshelf filled with worn books. The Egyptian yanked open a door to his tiny closet and pulled out a plain maroon shirtwith a pair of black carpenter jeans. He pulled them hastily and then swung a heavy and clunky black backpack onto his back. With a grunt of exertion, he kicked open the door to his room, not flinching even as it made a nasty cracking sound against the wall.

"Morning Malik," Ishizu called knowingly as she stepped out of her room, her black hair slightly touseled. "You're late." She stated simply as she blinked the bleariness from her eyes with a small yawn.

"I know that," he snapped as he hurried towards the front door, and she frowned as she smoothed her frazzled hair down to semi-perfection with her hands.

"You're not going to eat?" She asked, and he looked back at her as he yanked open the door with an incredulous expression on his face.

"Breakfast is overrated, Isis," he replied cheekily, and with that door slammed shut. Ishizu let out a long and tired sigh before shuffling back towards her room. "Such a child..." she murmured as she yawned again, and closed the door to her room with a soft thump.

Meanwhile, Malik was dashing through various streets, ducking through crowds and weaving through shortcuts as he feverently tried to beat the clock. As he turned another corner, he saw the red and white school that promised forgiveness, granted if he could get into the building on time, and he allowed himself to grin truimphantly. And I even made it with time to spare-

Suddenly, a man landed right in front of him with a nasty crack of some unfortunate bone, and Malik jumped back as the man coughed up a glob of blood with a wheeze-stricken inhalation. The afflicted man was clothed in a black leather jacket and ripped blue jeans, and his face was rudy and shod with a messy mop of dark hair. Malik rushed toward him, after a moment of standing in paralysed shockk and knelt by the man's side. His eyes were squeezed shut as he moaned, and Malik lightly shook the man's shoulder as the Egyptian tried speaking as calmly as possible.

"S-Sir, is anything broken?" Malik asked urgently, and the man wheezed as he tried to speak, opening his eyes a little as he coughed violently. Why do these things like this always happen at the most inconvient times?

"Just...my pride..." was the reply from the man as he cursed vehemently before vomiting up another round of blood, and Malik tried his best to not retch himself.

Right then, the air was graced by one of the most evil and condescending laughs Malik had ever heard in his entire life. He snapped his head up and found his gaze locked with a pair of absolutely abnormal crimson eyes that seemed to harbor the burning essence of negativity itself.

"Be glad that's satisfactory for me today," the man said placatingly as he looked down at the broken man, a distinctively British lilt in his low and velvety voice, and Malik's eyes widened as he examined this new and clearly dangerous person head to toe. "Fool."

He was lithe in body frame but tall, and Malik guessed he towered at least half a head above him. A black and sinister trenchcoat cloaked their body and a gray fedora covered their stark white hair for the most part. They wore black solider boots with silver B's engraved on both of them and their hands clad in black and grey stealth gloves. They tilted their head back up to look at Malik, their surprisingly young and sharp-featured face split by a sinster smirk, and the Egyptian suppressed a shudder as those hateful eyes pierced through him.

"Well well well...who do we have here?" The man asked with a unnervingly sharp grin, and Malik's open shock melted down into an intense glare as he moved to shield the beaten man. At this action, the trenchcoat man threw back his head to laugh hysterically, bewildering Malik as he dramatically waved a dismissive hand at him.

"Don't worry your pretty head. I'm done with him," he said with a sadistic smile, and Malik twitched visibly at this offhanded comment.

"I'm not pretty." He ground out from between his teeth, but the trench coat man didn't even flinch at his acidic hostility. In fact, he actually looked amused, and bent down to look the Egyptian straight in the eyes.

"Don't get your bloody panties in a bunch," the man said, his eyes narrowing into snake-like slits as he grinned slyly, sharp canines on display. "Nancy."

Malik, being an studious and curious person, had researched many cultures and different lingoes of common languages, British English included, in his life time. And Malik was a hundred percent sure that what this man had just called him hadn't been a compliment on his sleuth skills.

"I don't have time for you," he said testily, trying not to lose his temper at this obviously deadly stranger, and began looking around for help with swivels of his head. The trench-coat man snorted and turned his back on Malik before beginning to walk away, his boots clicking on the pavement rhythmically.

"Bloody bint."

The man stopped dead in his tracks as Malik proceeded to mentally flip out on himself. Why didn't I just stay meek? Now I'm definitely going to be late, because this psycho's probably preparing to beat me till I scream for Queen Elizabeth the Second...!

"Ah, so nancy has a bit of a broadened vocabulary. Interesting." The man said, his voice akin to a dark purr. "You've got a nasty tongue under all that superficial pretty wrap, don't you?" He said as he turned back to size Malik up.

"My name's Malik, and I'm not a bloody nancy," the Egyptian shot back as he completely shed his manners, and the man lifted a brow at his name.

"Mal~ik..." the man repeated, rolling his name on his tongue, and Malik furrowed his brow distastefully as the man turned his back on him. "I'm sure we'll met again, pretty boy," he said with the chilling ring of a promise attached to his words, baring his sharp canines in a final wolfish smirk before strolling away.

"..." Malik couldn't help but gaze after the man as his sinister trenchcoat billowed behind him as he walked, the crowds quickly parting for him nervously. That guy is dangerous. Malik thought to himself. He seems to pays attention to minute details. And who is he to call merude? He called me an effeminate pansy!

The Egyptian could almost feel the steam leaking from his ears, thoroughly ticked at the loose-mouthed white devil man, and a small, irrational part of himself wanted to run after him and paint that pale skin red. As he pushed his festering annoyance to the back of his mind, he looked down at the injured man with a sigh and began to drag him towards the school with grunts of effort, as he silently cursed the mysterious man to the high heavens.

To make a long story short, Malik ended up being quite late to class; but this was excused by the fact Malik towed an unconscious and bleeding man into the school building. After a long talk with the school nurse and the pricipal, the Egyptian was finally relieved of his burden and was excused to report to class. As he sat down in a back desk with a melancholy expression on his face and ignored the questioning stares boring into him, he pulled out an advanced chemistry book and turned to the required page as the man's voice haunted him in his mind without mercy.

Hello, nancy.

Are your panties in a bunch again?

I'll see you again, Egyptian...

"You will certainly not see me again, bastard," Malik muttered, and the teacher turned around to look at Malik with a raised brow as she adjusted her glasses on her long and thin nose.

"Care to share your thoughts are, Mr. Ishtar?" She asked with a slightly knowing smile as she flipped her chesnut brown hair, and Malik flushed a little as the students turne to look at him with smirks and giggles.

"No," he said politely as he shooed all of his annoying British thoughts out of his head. I don't have to get ticked off about someone I'll never meet again, he reassured himself with a semi-forced smile as he focused his attention on the lesson, biting the end of his pencil absent-mindedly.

After a satisfying day of receiving nothing but A's, Malik felt somewhat content as he exited the school, his mind at rest for once as he shifted his backpack's position. "One-hundred on my trigonometry test. Looks like that extra one hour and forty minutes paid off!" He said with pride. "This should please the great Isis. Perhaps she'll let me study more, now..." he muttered to himself in a workaholic-like manner. "Hm."

The sun shone pleasantly on his skin as he frowned. "I really hope I'll get that call," he said quietly as he kicked at a rugged pebble with unnecessary violence. "I don't know of any other opportunities this big that could cross my life road."

Malik looked up into the sky, hoping his quiet plea had been heard, and yet half-heartedly thinking on his meeting with one of the world's most famous people.

At the very least, he thought I was interesting, Malik thought plaintively, trying not to get his hopes up too high. After all, he had been just a dirty doormat for his entire existence upon the earth. Why would he, a poor and swarthy immigrant, be picked over the upper class?

When Malik came home a bit later, he was greeted by a towering and muscular man. All of his pitch black hair was pulled into a tight braid at the back of his skull, leaving the majority of his head bald. He had on a gray and blue suit that had seen better days and he was holding a large briefcase in his left hand. His most distinguishing feature was the tattoo over his left eye, comprised of various tiny heiroglyphics, and his dark eyes were as expressionless as Ishizu's.

At the sight of the tall, intimidating and stoic man, Malik openly grinned and hugged him with affection. "Odion, you're back so early," was his greeting as the man hugged him back with a small smile on his lips. "Did you get fired?" He joked, but the look in his eyes was more serious than the tone of his question warranted.

"Of course not," Odion replied, his voice a deep rumble, and patted Malik on the head with a fatherly gentleness before they both moved inside the decrepit building, Malik closing the door with a loud thump and a rattle. "What havoc did you wreck while I was gone?" The man teased Malik gruffly.

"Oh, nothing too serious." Ishizu appeared from within the inky shadows of the darkened house, and Malik's heart skipped a beat as he glared at his sister with both evident annoyance and a pinch of healthy fear.

"Isis, you're not a spider. Stop crawling out of the shadows like one all the time...!" Malik snapped in irritation as she stared at him blankly. She fiddled with the golden loop dangling from her ear absently as she furrowed her brows together.

"I don't. You just don't enough pay attention to me," Ishizu said coolly. "And it's Ishizu, not Isis..." she automatically corrected him with a hopeless sigh.

Malik grimaced at her before turning back to Odion with an eager grin. "So what did they have you do this time, old geezer?" He asked, and Ishizu leaned against the wall as she watched the two with contentedness.

"I'm twenty-seven. I'm not that old yet," Odion replied with a small half-smile, and crossed his arms with a hum of thoughtfulness. "I cleaned out several offices and rearranged them according to the owners' requests..." he sighed tiredly. "Also went to go shift crates for a while at the docks before then I went back to office work. I'm just glad to be home for a day with my little brother and sister..." he wobbled a bit unsteadily, and Ishizu immdiately came to his side.

"Come on, Rishid," Ishizu murmured quietly as she put an elegant hand on his back, guiding him towards the kitchen gently. "You need something to eat."

Malik watched quietly as his siblings disappeared into the kitchen, leaning against the wall with a frustrated expression on his features. Once I achieve my goal, Malik thought, with an edge of bitterness, we won't have to live like this anymore. Odion won't have to work like a dog any longer, and Isis won't be scrapping for any grimy buck she can snatch

The Egyptian ran a hand down his face with a dry chuckle, his eyes open and steely with a fierce determination.

If I don't get this job, I'll work myself to death with them.

For the next couple of days, Malik was incredibly moody and more studious than usual, mildly alarming Ishizu and Rishid, the latter taking a short break from his various jobs. He barely awknowleged any other presences besides his textbooks, and he buried his nose so deep into his papers some feared he would be sucked into them. He was approached by a couple of guys he hung out with at times, and blatantly turned down all forms of communication with them, alerting people that the Egyptian was in an extremely serious mood.

When Saturday evening came around, five days after Malik's interview with Seto Kaiba, an old-fashioned landline loudly announced its presence to the inhabitants of the Ishtar household as it rang in the kitchen, echoing down the narrow hall of the closet-like apartment.

The pale blue door to Malik's room was violently bashed open as the sixteen-year-old dashed down the hallway into the kitchen, breathing hard as he pressed the receiver into his ear with a gleam in his purple eyes. "Hello, this is Malik Ishtar," he said breathlessly, and a beep sounded in his ear.

"Congratulations, Malik Ishtar, you have been accepted along with two other workers to work at KNK CORP," came a robotic woman's voice. "You will start work at four o' clock P.M on this coming Monday afternoon, and you are expected to be on time. Please report to the fourtieth floor's front desk that day. Have a wonderful evening."

As the line went dead Malik was deathly quiet for a moment, the beeps sounding dully into his ear, before he erupted in pure bliss.

"Yes!" he yelled, pumping his fist in the air, his gold bracelets shimmering as he sank to his knees and he kissed the filthy floor in his ectasty. "My chance! I finally get a chance!" He said as he sat up and leaned his back against the wall, his face brighter than it had been in eons as his eyes sparkled with glee.

He blinked as Ishizu barged in, her dark eyes widened in worry. "Malik? Are you...alright?" She asked, concerned. "Rishid's sleeping..." she added as she assessed him from head to toe, seeing nothing wrong with him.

"I'm better than I've been in a long time," was Malik's only response as he closed his eyes peacefully. Ishizu quirked a brow, intrigued at what could have possibly made a bleak teen so excited, but let it lie as she left the kitchen warily. As Malik stared up at the stained and leaky white ceiling, his lips curled up in a grin.

My dream is now in working progress.

Monday couldn't come soon enough for the eager Egyptian, his eyes gleaming as he set about his daily routine with even more vigor than usual. Ishizu noticed this and observed with pleasure, enamoured with her brother's burst of sudden happiness. Malik studied his business books like his life depended on it, all too ready to neglect his meals if it wasn't for his sister and her rather violent ways of enforcing her eating rules.

Finally, the day was here, and Malik was standing in front of KNK CORP, after the seemingly longest day of school in his life. He was dressed in a collared black shirt and a purple tie, with long tan khaki trousers and slightly worn dress shoes, and he had even applied his black traditional markings under his eyes. With a smile he walked into KNK CORP, enjoying the stares of curiousity he got from several workers, and headed over with slight dread to the elevator. As he pressed the elevator up button and waited for the doors to open, he was nearly bowled over by an implusive-looking man with poufy blond hair.

"Hey, sorry 'bout that. Hey, it ain't four yet, is it pal?" He asked Malik, who looked at his frayed gray leather watch on his left wrist.

"Nope." Malik replied, and took in the man's appearance. He had bright brown eyes and a punkish grin, but his face was rather handsome. He was about Malik's height, but more stocky than the Egyptian, and he had slightly faded blue jeans on as well as a collared white shirt striped with black lines. His blue tie was comically loose around his neck, and his dress shoes were a little less worn than Malik's. "Are...you...?"

"One of the interview-ee people? I guess so!" The man grinned, and ruffled Malik's hair playfully with a rough hand. "The name's Joey Wheela, mate! Pleased to met 'cha!"

"...M-Malik Ishtar," the Egyptian muttered as he smoothed down his hair again, mildly annoyed by Joey's erratic and disjointed behavioral pattern. "Nice to meet you too."

The elevator opened just then, completely empty, and Malik and Joey entered into it as the doors slammed shut. Joey pressed the button for the fortieth floor button and leaned against a side of the elevator as he crossed his arms. "Well, what brings you here? Ya desperate? Need quick cash?"

"No. I'm here so I can climb the ladder of the business world," Malik said honestly, and at this Joey cackled, the elevator shooting up as Malik clutched at his stomach for dear life.

"Wh-what's wrong with th-that reason?" The Egyptian gasped as the elevator stopped, and Joey grinned as he managed to stifle his chuckling.

"Sorry, but underlings like us at a company like this stay underlings," Joey said with a rueful sigh. "Trust me, I know. They needed new office boys since the old ones got fired. Or quit."

"Quit?" Malik said in disblief as they stepped out of the elevator together, both of them heading towards the front desk. "Why would they?" he demanded.

"Well, Seto Kaiba is the world's most cold-hearted bast-." Joey started to proclaim quite loudly, and Malik covered his mouth as a couple of employees looked at them with wide eyes.

"Keep it down...!" Malik hissed as he uncovered the blond's mouth. Joey grinned apologetically, scratching his head sheepishly before he continued.

"And...well, from what I've heard, there's another KNK executive," he muttered, his brow furrowed. "And apparently, he's a flippin' sociopath that's strangely brilliant when it comes to business. Heck, I've heard even wakin' him up is dangerous..." Joey shuddered. "I'd take cold-cash over that guy, from what I've heard."

Malik bit his lip, trying to remember where he had read about the other executive of KNK CORP, but as he drew a blank he pushed the thought to to back of his mind. As Joey and Malik came up to the front desk, the dark-haired girl from last Monday smiled at them both cordially.

"Afternoon, doll. We're accepted interview-ees from last week." Joey said candidly, and the woman nodded with understanding.

"Congratulations, you two! I have both your assigned duties here..." she pulled out a blue office folder and took two pieces of paper out. "Mr. Wheeler, you'll be working around this floor. Specifically speaking, you'll be running errands for Mr. Kaiba. You are to check in with him at this time."

Joey swallowed a curse or three, and accepted the paper with a steamed kind of graciousness. Malik looked hopefully at the woman who was openly gawking at his paper, her eyes almost bulging out of her head. "He wants an office boy...?" she muttered quietly to herself.

"What about me?" He asked, and the woman cleared her throat with unease.

"Mr. Ishtar, you'll be working on floor fifty..." The woman said as she stood up, and Joey and Malik exchanged looks as she walked over to the Egyptian's side. "I'll escort you now."

"Check ya later then, Malik," Joey said as he grinned at Malik, who offered a small smile in return, before heading off towards Kaiba's office. Malik looked at the back of the woman's head as she lead him back towards the elevator, and mustered up the words to ask her as she pressed the fiftieth floor's button.

"So, um, where are we going?" He asked as the doors slammed shut, and the woman shook her dark head despondantly.

"Kid, you really don't want to know." She replied, plain and simple. Malik glared at her in annoyance, his eyes akin to purple lightning.

"Of course I don't want to know; that's why I bothered asking," he quipped, the sarcasm nearly tangible. The woman sighed, drawing it out theatrically as she turned to look him right in the eyes.

"Mr. Ishtar, the person you're about to start working for made his former office boy, a grown man mind you, quit their job while crying hysterically."

The elevator shot up then, rendering Malik silent with nausea, and then came to a sudden stop with a creak as the doors opening slowly. The fiftieth floor was as busy as the fourieth floor, if not more so, with people running to and fro like freshly beheaded chickens. She guided him through the mess of people and down a noticably quieter hallway, and Malik started to feel uneasy as they walked towards a inky black door with a red name plaque on it. The woman stopped a few feet in front of the door and cleared her throat nervously before clicking her earpiece and speaking with reverence.

"Mr. Ahmar...?" She questioned, her clenched lower jaw and cracking voice betraying her nervousness. "Your new office boy is here."

There was a pause before the response.

"Well, send the bloody boy in," came a the dark, animalistic snarl, and the woman patted his back before retreating backwards, her eyes wide with fear.

"Good luck, kid," she said before walking away briskly, leaving Malik alone. With a gulp, he steeled himself for the supposedly monster behind the door and turned the handle until the door opened. He stepped in cautious, the door slamming shut quite loudly behind him. Malik's eyes took in the room, with its large window and lovely golden scarlet drapes, as well as the red and white tiles at the entrance and blood red carpet covering the rest of the floor.

Almost immediately the Egyptian's eyes were drawn to the shadowy figure in the chair behind the red and black office desk, the person's black boots propped on the surface quite improperly. The figure shifted a little, and the sudden hiss of a snake made Malik flinch violently. To his absolute horror, a huge cobra, coloured a strange dusty blue, slithered out from behind the desk with a hiss and bared its ungodly fangs at the Egyptian.

"Diabound, that's no way to treat my new office boy..." came a dark and velvety voice that Malik found horrifyingly familiar. "We wouldn't want him to run away like my last one, right?" The snake wound itself up loosely around the person's leg with a hiss of pleasure, and Malik suppressed a violent shudder at the bad memories the cobra had unwittingly unearthed.

As the sun's afternoon rays shone brightly into the room, they illuminated the sharp-featured face of the man who Malik had hated at first verbal exchange. His pure white hair was impossibly unruly, and his hateful, psychotic eyes were wilder than before. He wore a collared dark crimson shirt with a slackened white tie, coupled with well as black slacks. Malik desperately rubbed at his eyes, hoping that he was high somehow and that the sadistic psycho he saw in front of him was a deranged hallucination, but as soon as he heard the man's evil laugh he knew he was in a nightmarish reality.

"Oh, come now Malik." He rolled the name off of his tongue with an amused expression. "Don't look so tortured. I haven't even done anything to you yet." Mr. Ahmar smiled cordially, showing off his deadly sharp canines, and at that moment Malik remembered the name of the other executive of KNK CORP.

"You're Bakura Ahmar..." he said slowly in realisation, his eyes both disgusted and horrified. "The black sheep of KNK."

Bakura grinned widely, his crimson eyes burning fiery holes into Malik, who shook his head as his lips moving soundlessly. "I'm also your benevolent boss," he said with a bit of a hiss in his dark voice.

Malik couldn't help but gape like a fish at this white-haired demon upon his business throne, and his malfunctioning mind came up with one pitiful comparison that summed up his dire situation perfectly.

The devil wears boots, and I'm his new cabin boy.

AN: Ah, rewriting. I was such an amateur a year ago. Readers, I suggest that you retread the story, as I've made alterations here and there that could clash with what you remember.

That aside, whether you enjoyed it or hated it, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

HarvestDragon