Volume 1 | Chapter 2: "Details"
Opening Theme: "Raining" by Art Of Dying
Ending Theme: "Behind Blue Eyes" by Limp Bizkit
The rest of the day proceeded normally for Danny, Marina, and Violet, though there was a noticeable lack of tension across the school. With the absence of Josiah, who hadn't returned to school after walking away from his duel with Mike, the rest of the students at Dexterity High felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from their shoulders. And of course, Mike's sudden return spread throughout the school populace like wildfire; even the teachers and other staff quickly picked up on the story.
Danny was especially enthused as he and Violet entered their last class of the day, History, after parting ways with Marina, who had to attend her junior Health class. The two senior friends sat themselves next to each other in the back of the classroom, as to make undetectable conversation so they weren't chewed out by their teacher, Mr. Carnell.
"Man, has this been the best day ever, or what?" Danny whispered emphatically to Violet as they sat down at their long desk. "Ms. Avers extended the deadline to our metaphysical poetry presentation; the vending machine in the cafeteria finally has barbecue chips; and to top it all off, my best friend's back in town and alive!"
"Yeah..." Violet chuckled weakly, only half-focused on Danny's words.
She couldn't stop replaying the events from that morning over in her head: how Mike had returned out of nowhere after having disappeared for two years, defeated Josiah, and then just walking away again. To her, the time had felt fleeting; as though it had been some kind of dream.
But she'd already pinched herself enough times throughout the day to know that it had been no dream. Though she almost wished that it had, as she still couldn't wrap her head around how cold Mike had acted towards Josiah. And even before then, from the moment she'd set eyes on him again earlier, she'd been able to tell that there was something inside him that had changed: not just in his dueling, appearance, or attitude, but in his soul. And that very idea scared her—the idea that the boy she'd loved for so many years was gone; replaced by this darker, colder version of him with no remorse.
And then there were the apparent bullet holes she'd seen in the back of his duster... she couldn't even begin to fathom what kind of things Mike might have been through if those holes really came from where she thought they had. And to top off her anxiety, the revolver-shape of the duel disk he'd used earlier only pushed the fear of that idea closer to reality.
"Violet... Violet!"
Danny's whispers finally found their way to her, snapping her out of her thoughts with a jolt as she shook her head. "Sorry," she said with an apologetic glance. "I just..."
Her voice trailed off, but Danny gave her an assuring nod. "Nah, it's fine," he tried to comfort her as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Believe me, I get it. This morning was crazy. Marina and I could hardly process what happened ourselves."
You're not the one who's been in love with him your whole life. That's what she wanted to shoot back at him annoyedly, but she restrained herself from doing so as she felt his hand slip from her shoulder, leaving her to go back to her thoughts.
The mystery of what exactly Mike had been through aside, there was one other question on her mind now that she hadn't dared to revisit since the earliest days after his disappearance: what had driven him to disappear in the first place.
Could it have had something to do with the accident that happened all those years ago...? she wondered to herself, a grim expression coming to her face as the memory of that horrible day flashed in her mind.
"Miss Alyssum... Miss Alyssum!"
Danny gave her a nudge to bring her back to her senses, the sudden jolt from reality startling her as she finally answered her teacher's attendance call: "Oh, uh; here!"
She glanced up at her English teacher as she spoke: he was wearing a casual sports jacket over a white dress shirt, along with pants that no one could tell if they were jeans, dress pants, or some kind of odd crossover of the two. He stood at 6'0", and his black hair was messy as usual.
"About time," Mr. Carnell spoke sternly to her. "Please try to get your head out of the clouds, Miss Alyssum."
He gave her a look that she could tell meant there would be extra homework tonight, leaving her to let out a defeated sigh as Mr. Carnell continued his attendance check.
The elevator door to the school's fourth floor sounded a loud ding, signaling an arrival on the landing before the two doors parted to let the dirty blonde-haired man in the black duster exit.
Mike glanced down the unoccupied hallway: nothing but walls decorated with canvases and portraits of pictures, paintings, and other works of art that Dexterity High alumni had left behind. The pieces were spread between different office doors, all of which belonged to administrative staff members of the school that no students were allowed to enter without permission.
But the door he was looking for was at the end of the hall to the right: a wooden door with the same green frame he remembered, with a gold-rimmed sign on the door that read, in bold capitals: "PRINCIPAL."
He approached this door, stopping in front of it before rapping his knuckles against it three times.
"Yes? Who is it?" spoke a familiar voice from inside that Mike hadn't heard in a long time.
"It's me, Dr. Crawford," Mike replied, knowing the man behind the door would recognize his voice.
For a moment, there was silence behind the wooden door as Mike stood waiting, before the voice within finally spoke again: "Come in."
Mike twisted the knob and stepped inside. The first thing he noticed was how different the office looked compared to the last time he'd been in it two years ago: new filing cabinets occupied the wall to the right of the door he had walked in through, replacing the rusted ones he remembered. Dr. Crawford's desk was a slab of solid marble, held up by smaller, metal filing cabinets that must have held personal items or school files. Upon the desk was a large-screen computer with numerous tabs opened on it. A wireless mouse and keyboard lay between their seated owner at the desk and the screen. Two other guest chairs sat before the desk.
The afternoon sunlight shone through the single large window in the back of the room behind the principal, which had a shelf across it holding magnolias in a large flower pot. One could tell the flowers were well-taken-care-of, as they stood tall and proud, full of life. A small watering can sat beside them.
The man named Dr. Crawford sat behind the marble desk in a comfortable-looking office chair. He was dressed in his usual white, collared shirt under a blue sport coat. His legs donned dark jeans, and his feet sported brown, slip-on shoes. His handsome face looked bored as he looked down at the papers in his hands. His short, bright-blonde hair was neatly parted in the front, and his hazel eyes seemed bigger than they actually were behind his plastic-rimmed glasses. He looked to be in his late forties; and at full height, he stood at 6'1".
He finally looked up as Mike closed the door behind him. "So that was you," he said with a smile. "I thought you'd left after your earlier scuffle with Mr. Sullivan."
Mike smirked at this. "I guess word still travels fast around this place."
Dr. Crawford returned the smirk before placing his papers down on his desk, looking up to face Mike again as he leaned back in his chair. "Well, I suppose this isn't a casual visit after being presumed dead for two years?" he guessed.
"No," Mike confirmed. "I actually had some business I wanted to discuss with you, if you've got a little time."
Dr. Crawford was quiet for a moment before deciding to switch topics: "How about you tell me where you've been the last two years first?"
Mike averted his eyes from Dr. Crawford's gaze at that remark. "I'd honestly rather not."
"I'll speak business with you after I get the details," Dr. Crawford compromised, not wanting to let information he'd been left to wonder about for so long slip out of his hands.
Mike stood in silence as he met Dr. Crawford's eyes. His resolve was unshakable; there was no way he would get to discuss what he wanted to without first giving him the information he desired.
He scoffed. "Fine," he said, taking a seat in one of the guest chairs. "What do you want to know?"
"Why don't we start with what caused you to run off in the first place?" Dr. Crawford suggested, trying to ease into the conversation.
"You ought to know the answer to that already," was Mike's reply. "After all, you're the one who helped me through that hell twelve years ago, remember?"
Dr. Crawford nodded slowly as he recalled all those years prior: before becoming principal of Dexterity High School, he had been a guidance counselor and therapist by trade. Mike, at the age of six, had been one of his patients after what they both referred to as the "accident" had taken the lives of his parents. Some years later, Dr. Crawford took up his position as principal of Dexterity High School, with the intention of using his empathetic nature to build a curriculum that he knew would support teenage youths.
He rubbed his temples as the memories of what he and Mike used to discuss returned to his mind. "I suppose you were out to seek some sort of redemption, then?" he figured. "A way to release yourself from carrying all that blame?"
Mike continued to avert his old therapist's gaze. "Guess you could say that."
Dr. Crawford pushed aside the papers on his desk, not wanting to be distracted. "I'm guessing you didn't find it."
Mike shook his head, continuing to avoid eye contact with his old therapist. "No, I... I wound up in this place," he said, somewhat shakily. "A place where a lot of horrible things happened... where I even did a lot of horrible things."
The principal's eyebrows rose. "What sort of things are we talking about?"
But Mike couldn't bring himself to speak of the events he'd lived through over the last two years. Instead, he only took the revolver-shaped duel disk from its holster at his side, and placed it on his old therapist's desk. "This is more than just a duel disk, Dr. Crawford."
Dr. Crawford looked from Mike to the device he had put on his desk, staring at it long and hard as he realized what Mike meant: it didn't look like a gun just for design. It could, and had, taken lives.
"I see..." Dr. Crawford said, visibly shaken as Mike took the gun back from the marble desk, replacing it in its holster at his side. "So that's a 'no' on the redemption, then."
"Which brings me to why I'm back," Mike confirmed with a nod. "I need to start making things right with myself the right way... a realization I wish I'd made a lot sooner, believe me."
Dr. Crawford could see the honesty in his old patient's eyes, as well as the regret for whatever it was he'd done, and the hatred towards himself for having done so. He'd seen this look on Mike numerous times before, after the "accident" that had taken the lives of his parents had caused him to only look at himself with resentment. Now, that resentment burned just as bright in his oceanic orbs as it had before.
"If I might ask you..." he asked as he leaned slightly more forwards in his chair, "where exactly did you end up to seek redemption in such a way?"
"That's a long story I doubt you have the time to listen to," was Mike's reply as his right hand slowly crept its way to grab the top part of his left forearm. "Besides, I'd prefer to get down to the business I mentioned earlier."
Dr. Crawford eyed Mike's slow-moving hand for a moment before meeting his eyes again. He could tell that he'd already gotten more out of Mike than the latter was comfortable with sharing, so he decided it best to change the subject.
"Very well," he said as his fingers folded between each other. "What sort of business did you want to discuss?"
"My education," was Mike's reply, earning a raised eyebrow from the principal.
"Your education?" he repeated, making sure that he was hearing Mike right. While he had always been an average student, it was no secret that he'd never cared all that much about his classes.
"Right," Mike confirmed. "I just want to get my diploma as soon as I can. The only things I learned over the last two years was a little self-defense, but I doubt that's enough to land me a real job."
"True enough," Dr. Crawford agreed. "Unfortunately, though, we're already near the end of our school year here. To continue your education from where you left off now, you wouldn't be able to graduate for another two years."
"Which is why I wanted to ask if there was any way I could fast-track that," Mike suggested. "Perhaps some sort of individualized classes; just anything to help me graduate sooner rather than later."
Dr. Crawford took a moment to contemplate Mike's request. The look in Mike's eyes told him that he was completely serious about his absurd-sounding proposition. No doubt his youth and the long time he'd spent away from regular civilization skewed his understanding of how things usually worked; but at the same time, Mike was no stranger to Dr. Crawford's authority to structure curriculums for students with special needs, providing alternate paths for such students to be able to succeed.
Finally, he let out a sigh before adjusting his glasses. "All right," Dr. Crawford finally said. "I can't make any promises, but I may be able to set you up with something. But I also can't attest to how long it may take to arrange."
Mike grinned at this. "I'd appreciate that, Dr. Crawford," he said, before standing from his seat. "I knew you were the right person for me to go to."
"Well, I just want to see you succeed, Mike," was Dr. Crawford's reply. "As I do for all of my students."
Mike nodded, before reaching into his duster, pulling out a small piece of paper from it that he placed onto his former therapist's desk. "This is my current cell phone number," he explained, "for whenever you need to contact me."
He then turned towards the door as he said, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be later."
Dr. Crawford grinned as he looked from the paper to Mike. "Going to reunite with your old friends?" he guessed. "Mr. Stark, Miss Livesey, and Miss Alyssum?"
Mike froze as he laid his hand on the door handle when he heard those names. "How have they been?" he asked, a mix of both concern and curiosity in his voice.
"It's been rough for them since you left; Mr. Sullivan certainly didn't make things easy for them," Dr. Crawford admitted. "But they've pulled through it."
Mike gave a short chuckle, but then went quiet again before he spoke with a tone that was seldom heard in Mike's voice: passion.
"What about Violet? How has she been?"
"She was definitely the most affected by your disappearance," Dr. Crawford replied, a small grin coming to his face. "It might interest you to know that she has your name scribbled on a lot of her school folders."
Mike smiled slightly at that thought. "Thanks again, Dr. Crawford," he said, before walking out of the office and closing the door behind him.
He began pacing back towards the elevator again, his footsteps drowning out from his ears as he withdrew into his mind, reflecting on the memories that Dr. Crawford's questions had brought up inside of him—the "accident," the events of the last two years, and the pain those sets of memories brought him.
He shot a glare at the small spot on his arm that he had grasped at earlier. It was almost funny to him now—how such a small thing had thrust him into a life he never could've imagined living, even his worst nightmares...
- Flashback -
When Mike regained consciousness, he genuinely thought he had died.
All he could remember was the exhaustion and agony that had overtaken his body before his collapse, and in that moment, he'd believed that was the end for him. But now, as his eyes fluttered open, he found that his thirst had been quenched, and he felt energized for the first time in what felt like an eternity.
He sat himself up and scanned his environment: he appeared to be in an undecorated, wooden cabin of some kind. He was lying on a simple cot, next to which was a small table with a water bottle, and a plate with sliced bread on it. Nearby was a larger wooden table with three chairs tucked underneath it. Atop it was a candle, a matchbox, and a small pile of pens and pencils. The rest of the table was occupied with a large map that took up the rest of the surface.
As he scanned the unfamiliar surroundings, the only door that appeared to lead inside the cabin swung open, allowing entry to the man who must have been the one he'd seen before collapsing: he had wispy, jet-black hair with a few streaks of silver here and there, and a van dyke beard of the same color scheme. His eyes were a deep shade of gray—dark as the most electrifying storm. He was wearing a long, black duster, beneath which was a black shirt, belt, pants, and even what appeared to be a holster carrying a revolver around his waist. He stood at about 6'1".
"So, you're alive," the man said through an accent that Mike couldn't recognize. "Good. My treating you wasn't for nothing after all."
Mike shifted himself so he was sitting up, still trying to focus his eyes. He couldn't help but sound slightly scared as he said, "Where am I?"
The old man only turned his back on him. "Come. I'll show you."
Mike's eyebrows rose as the man stepped back through the door he had entered from. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to follow the stranger or not; but considering that this man seemed to have saved his life, he couldn't see any reason not to trust him for the time being.
With his mind made up, he stood from the small cot and walked towards the door to follow the man. But the moment he opened the door and stepped outside, his heart nearly stopped out of shock at the sight of his new environment:
He'd walked out onto a wooden deck that overlooked a small, western-style town that he'd only ever seen the likes of in old movies. A wide, sandy road was the pathway between the numerous wood structures that made up the town's buildings. Many of the people walking about were dressed in clothes appropriate for the setting: men wore variants of outfits consisting of button-up shirts, frilled vests, chaps, boots, and cowboy hats. Some women were dressed up similarly, while others were gussied up in prairie dresses and bonnets. He also noticed a few scattered folks dressed in more modernized garb, such as designer shirts, jeans, sneakers, and jackets.
The ambient echo of neighing horses and other animals intermingled with the sound of the citizens' voices as Mike stared out at them, while the older man whom he'd followed outside moved to stand beside him as he said: "Welcome to Frontier Haven."
Mike stood in paralyzed silence. All he could think of to do was blink, figuring that when he reopened his eyes, he'd find that was hallucinating—that County Dame had briefly looked like a Hollywood movie set for an award-winning western thriller, and he'd find himself back in the streets of his home city. But he found this wasn't the case when he opened his eyes again: he really was standing before an old western town.
"I'll understand if you're in shock," the scraggly-haired man spoke, his gaze back on Mike again. "Not many civilizations like this still exist in the world today."
Mike finally turned to meet the stormy-eyed stranger again. "Just what is this place...?" He tried to sound more confident than he felt.
The man walked past Mike, moving to the other side of the wooden deck they were standing upon as he looked out to the other side of the town. "A place of purgatory," he finally answered, earning raised eyebrows from Mike. "A place where the evil of the world comes to die."
At these words, Mike suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable. Was he supposed to be the "evil of the world" that had to die? He couldn't understand why, as he'd never done anything even remotely malicious in his life, save feeling responsible for the "accident" that he'd blamed himself for so many years ago.
"Who are you...?" Mike finally asked, not wanting to beat around the bush like this man seemed to be doing.
The aged man turned to meet Mike's eyes once more. "Ah, my apologies," he said. "In my age, I sometimes forget even the most common of courtesies. My name is Samael."
"Okay, now we're getting somewhere," Mike said, glad to have finally heard this stranger say something normal for a change.
The man named Samael chuckled. "I'm sure you're wondering just what your purpose is being here, yes?"
"Yeah, that was gonna be my next question," Mike admitted.
At this, Samael's face suddenly turned grim, as if a dark memory had resurfaced in his mind. This made Mike uneasy, as he didn't know whether or not he should've been terrified by this sudden change of expression. But thankfully, Samael's next action was in no way concerning for Mike at all: instead, he merely moved his right hand towards the left sleeve of his duster as he said, "Tell me, boy... do you know what this is?"
Mike's eyes followed the man's hand as it pulled his sleeve up, revealing beneath it something that sent a shock through him: it was the exact same X-shaped scar that he had on his own left arm—the one that had burned as it willed him to walk the path that had led him here.
"W-what the...?" Mike stammered in his disbelief. "You have the same scar that I have...?!"
"It's not just any scar," was Samael's reply. "It's called the Mark of Death. And I used mine to draw you here."
Mike glanced down to where his own "Mark" was concealed beneath his sleeve. "So you're the one who caused that burning," he figured. "And why it hurt less the more I walked in this direction."
"Correct," Samael confirmed as he pulled his sleeve down again. "You're perceptive."
"But why me?" Mike implored further. "What's so special about me that you brought me all the way out here?"
"Nothing," Samael said, bringing a surprised look to Mike's face. "When my Mark draws out another Mark-bearer like yourself, it's always at random. I've managed to call on others who have traveled across the world to come here before."
Mike's eyes widened. "Wait... there are more people like us with this thing?"
"Naturally," said Samael. "In fact, every person in this town's population bears one. And a great majority of them, I summoned here with my Mark as well."
Mike turned his gaze back to the town and its inhabitants below him. So all these people also bore the same "Mark of Death" on their arms too. But what was the point of gathering so many people with the same mark on their arms in one place like this...?
"But I digress."
Samael's voice interrupted Mike's thoughts, bringing him back to reality as he then said, "There is still much for you to learn; but for the time being, it's time for your test.
"And I believe your proctor," he eerily spoke as he looked out into the town again, "should be arriving right about now."
Mike turned his head to look where Samael had: walking towards them was a man wearing what looked like a tattered, dark-red cape, held together in the front with numerous buckles. The fabric with said buckles wrapped around his shoulders, from where his cape protruded from the back. The rest of his attire was entirely black, from his shirt, to his pants, to his gloves, and his boots; each of which were also decorated with various buckles and zippers. At his side was what appeared to be the same holster that Samael wore around his waist, also carrying a revolver. At full height, the man had to have been at least 6'3".
The man's long, unattended hair was raven-colored, and held up with a red headband. His piercing, crimson eyes made Mike feel uneasy without them even needing to lock with his own, and his face bore a brooding scowl that Mike had a feeling didn't leave his face often.
As the overwhelming figure reached the front of the deck, Samael looked to him with a smile. "Good morning, Aeron," he greeted him like an old friend.
"Samael," the man named Aeron acknowledged. His voice was deep, dark, and gravelly; so much so that it managed to send shivers down Mike's spine.
Samael, with his attention still focused on Aeron, gestured towards Mike with his head. "This boy is Frontier Haven's newest citizen. Teach him what he needs to know."
"Understood," the man named Aeron replied.
Samael grinned at him before turning to Mike one more time. "Aeron here will explain more to you," he told Mike with a pat on his shoulder. "Listen and learn well."
And with that, Samael gave Aeron one last nod before once again entering the small shack they had exited minutes before. Aeron, meanwhile, looked to Mike, his velvet eyes piercing through Mike's oceanic ones.
"You," he spoke monotonously. "Follow me."
With that, Aeron turned and began walking back in the direction he'd came through the western-style town. Mike's mind raced in the millisecond he had to make a choice: he could either go along with this and follow the one man he'd ever met that nearly scared him to the point of soiling himself, or he could try to make a break for it to escape this "Frontier Haven" place.
But he quickly realized that option B didn't seem like much of a good choice. For one thing, he had no idea where he was, so it was more likely that he would end up lost in the desert before dying of exhaustion like he almost had before. For another, he had a feeling that the man named Aeron would chase after him, and that he wouldn't be afraid to use the revolver he'd seen in his holster if he needed to.
It was clear to Mike that there was no other choice in the matter if he, at least, wanted a chance to live. So with one more nervous gulp, Mike found his strength and followed Aeron into the town.
- Flashback End -
Dexterity High's last bell rang, signaling the end of the school day as students emerged from their classrooms, hastily making their ways down the halls and stairs to begin their ventures home.
Danny and Violet met up with Marina on the second floor, where her last class of the day had finished. "So, who's with me to go out and try to find Mike?" Danny enthusiastically asked the girls, trying to make himself heard over the crowd of students flooding through the hallway.
"Like we were going to do anything else?" Marina agreed sarcastically, before folding her arms in thought. "But where would we even start looking for him?"
Danny pursed his lips, before he and Marina both turned to Violet, who recalled Mike's words from earlier that morning.
"Well..." she finally spoke up, "When I grabbed him earlier, he told me to have us meet at the usual spot after school."
Both Danny's and Marina's eyes lit up as they looked to each other with broad smiles, and then back to Violet. "Well, why didn't you say so sooner?!" Danny exclaimed. "Let's get a move on!"
The friends' "usual spot," as they called it, was an old, abandoned construction site near the northwestern edge of the city. The area was enclosed within a chain link fence, with numerous "DO NOT ENTER" signs scattered along it. Incidentally, this was why Mike thought it was the perfect hangout spot when they'd first started high school: no one could bother them if they were hiding where they weren't supposed to be in the first place. But after Mike's disappearance, the three friends found themselves meeting there less and less, until they had eventually stopped going there altogether.
"Why did this place get shut down again...?" Marina pondered as they walked through the gate to the site.
"If I'm remembering right," Danny replied, "this was originally supposed to be a middle school branch for Dexterity High. But around twenty years ago, there was an accident where a bunch of cement pipes ended up killing most of the construction crew. Since then, no one's wanted to touch the place 'cause a lot of paranormal instances have been reported around here. 'Ghostly voices' whispering at night, and the like."
Marina's expression turned to a deadpan at this story. "Really? That's why?" she asked incredulously. "Who in their right mind actually believes in ghosts?"
"Well, Mike certainly seemed to," Danny figured. "Wasn't that why we agreed with him about leaving by six o'clock?"
"I thought it was his set curfew by the nun at the orphanage or something," Marina reasoned. "I've never heard of anyone else in County Dame being afraid of ghosts."
"Well duh," Danny retorted. "No one openly admits to believing in ghosts!"
While the two continued to bicker as they approached an old trailer, Violet silently followed suit as her racing thoughts blocked out her friends' voices. She couldn't help but feel apprehensive about seeing Mike again, with the thought of how much he might've changed gnawing away at her.
But she shook her head as they entered the old trailer, trying to shake the idea out of her mind. She instead focused her attention on the inside of the trailer she hadn't entered in nearly a year: there was a small table, a few scattered chairs, a couch, and a small television that didn't work scattered across the small space. Despite that, the place had always served as a satisfactory hangout space for the four friends back in the day, and finally being back in it felt like reuniting with yet another old friend.
Everyone settled themselves in their old spots that they had always used to claim: Danny sat on one of the chairs, kicking his feet up on the sole table still left in the trailer. Marina took a chair and sat herself at the table, opposite of Danny's feet that she hated smelling. Violet sat on the couch, where she and Mike always used to sit together.
As they waited, Danny kept his eyes trained on the window, expecting to see their old friend at any given moment. Marina kept herself busy by studying her notes for her upcoming test the following day. Violet, meanwhile, tried to keep her mind empty of all the concerning thoughts that she'd been having since that morning. She should have been happy: the boy she'd loved her whole live was finally back in her life, but for whatever reason, she couldn't help but fear for the worst.
"There, I see him! He's here!"
Marina jumped while Violet's eyes lit up at Danny's proclamation, before she made for the trailer door to open it, wanting to see Mike before anyone else.
Sure enough, there he was: walking towards the trailer with his head slightly bowed, his long hair hiding his eyes from Violet's sight, concealing whatever expression was on his face.
He stopped a few paces away from the trailer door as the others gathered behind Violet. Then, he finally lifted his head so that his face could be seen, and the others all beamed to see him smiling slightly.
"Man of the hour!" Danny shouted happily as he pushed past Violet, jumping the trailer's stairs and throwing his arms around Mike's neck, catching him in a bear hug that nearly toppled them both over.
"Y'know," Mike choked out, "I'm still not the biggest fan of hugs."
Danny immediately released his grip around Mike as he smiled sheepishly at him. "Sorry man, couldn't help it."
Now the girls came out from the trailer to join him, with Marina being the first to joke, "Hope you didn't have any trouble finding this place again."
"Nah, it was right where I remembered," Mike replied, before he then locked eyes with Violet.
At his glance, she blushed for only a moment, before regaining the color in her face as she met his eyes. "It's good to have you back home."
"It's good to be home, believe me," Mike replied, his tone somewhat different than that of the way he spoke to the others.
No one but Violet noticed this, and she broke the eye contact as she looked to the ground shyly. Little did she know that Mike finally had something of an understanding of what was running through her mind, after learning what she liked to scribble on her folders from Dr. Crawford.
"Lemme tell ya, you've missed a hell of a lot over the last couple years!" Danny's voice cut into these thoughts as he grabbed Mike by the arm, practically dragging him into the trailer as the girls followed them inside. "Man, where do I start?!"
Danny spent the next few hours filling Mike in about everything he could think of to talk about that'd happened since his departure, from major global events to school-related activities. Marina often chimed in either to make a point or to mention something that made Danny look like a laughingstock, which brought numerous irksome looks to his face as he repeatedly told her to shut up, to which she only made faces at him.
As Mike listened intently to the stories, occasionally giving a small chuckle when it was warranted, Violet sat beside him on the couch, her eyes glued to him. Everyone else was so wrapped up in Danny's stories that no one had noticed her staring at Mike, not even Mike himself. Despite the extremely happy feeling she had at finally having him back, she still had that same feeling that he wasn't all there—like a part of him was missing. And the fact that she couldn't lay a finger on what it was infuriated her.
Eventually, Danny's long-windedness finally came to a close: "And then today, you showed up outta nowhere, and finally gave Josiah a long-overdue ass-whooping!"
Mike nodded before grinning slightly as he gave Danny a short round of applause. "A well-told set of stories, Danny," Mike commended his old friend. "Guess I really have missed out on a lot."
"You really did," said Marina. "To quote the opening line of A Tale of Two Cities: 'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.'"
Danny looked to her with a confused expression. "What exactly does Charles Dickens have to do with my stories?" he asked her with raised eyebrows.
"Well, those may have been some of our 'best times,' but they were also our 'worst times' because Mike was missing from them," she explained.
That hit a deep spot in each of the gathered friends' spirits. Not only had what she'd said been beautifully poetic, but it was ultimately true. Mike had been the one who'd brought them all together in the first place—the glue that bound them all to be as close as they were today.
Eventually, Danny leaned further against his chair as he looked to Mike. "All right, enough about us!" he said with a grin. "Your turn! What've you been up to all this time?"
At this question, Mike's expression immediately grew dark, which set an alarm off in Violet's mind. Whatever he'd been through over the last two years, the look on his face told her that it might've affected him a lot worse than she—or any of them—could imagine.
But she was surprised when he finally answered: "I'm sorry... but I'm afraid I can't tell you anything."
"Oh, c'mon!" Danny protested as he leaned forward in his chair now. "I just spilled my guts out covering the last two years of OUR lives for you, but you won't do it for us?!"
"It's not about how much I have to tell," Mike replied sternly. "It's about what I have to tell."
Only now did Danny seem to realize Mike's shift to seriousness, noticing the grim look on his face. Violet could tell by his expression that he was beginning to see that whatever Mike had to tell was probably more than they could handle. And what was more, it seemed like Mike had barely been able to handle it himself.
Danny calmed himself down with a long exhale, followed by a short pause. "All right, fine... if you won't give us the story, then I'll just have to EARN the story!"
Confusion spread across Violet's and Marina's faces as Danny stood up, his arm extended and his finger pointing to Mike as he challenged: "Whattaya say to a duel? If I win, then you gotta spill the beans about what you've been up to the last two years. But if you win, then I'll let it go!"
"Danny!" Marina snapped as she shot him a look. "You can't force him to tell you if he doesn't want to!"
But Danny ignored Marina's words, instead keeping his gaze fixed on his best friend, clearly confident that Mike would accept his challenge. Violet glanced from Danny to Mike anxiously, as the latter looked back to his standing friend with a hard stare. There was no way to predict how Mike would react to anything after today, and all she could do was hold her breath as she, Marina, and Danny awaited Mike's answer.
Finally, Mike closed his eyes calmly as he gave a small "Hmph," followed by, "fine. Not like you'll win, anyway."
Marina shook her head as Violet gave a small sigh of relief, glad to see that Mike seemed to remain undeterred in accepting any challenge. Danny, meanwhile, slapped his knee excitedly as he cried, "That's what I like to hear! Let's get this duel on the road, then!"
"And how exactly do you plan on dueling him without your deck or duel disk?" Violet questioned with an amused smirk.
Danny's ecstatic expression stuck to his face for only a moment before he crashed to the floor, only now remembering why Josiah had resolved to beating him physically earlier since he wasn't able to duel.
Marina, meanwhile, only rolled her eyes before pulling out her phone to check the time, to which her eyebrows rose as she saw what it was. "Perhaps it's for the best that you save your duel for another time," she suggested as she looked to them. "It's a little past six."
Everyone else whipped out their phones to see she was right. "Aw, damn!" Danny cried out as he leapt from his seat, looking to Mike one more time. "Well, fine; we'll just throw down after school tomorrow, then!"
With that, he took a leaping bound over the concrete steps, landing on his skateboard beneath his feet as he skated out through the gate and back into the city as he cried back to his friends, "Later, everyone!"
Marina could only sigh as she and the others followed suit, stepping out from the trailer. "I'll see you tomorrow, then," she addressed Mike and Violet before beginning her walk home as well.
Mike watched as she passed through the gate, before he felt Violet tap him on his shoulder. He turned to face her as she told him, "Hey, if you can, find some way to contact me tonight, all right?"
And with that, she began her trek after the others before Mike could get a chance to reply. He was left to stand there, wondering what she could want to talk about when they'd just spent the last few hours covering practically everything from the last two years on their end. Perhaps it had something to do with the feelings for him that she harbored...?
Mike pushed the thought out from his mind. He would have time to think about it once he found a place to spend the night, which was now his top priority. He made his way through the site's gate and walked into the city, readying himself to search for somewhere to spend the night.
Be sure to catch up with the latest "Yu-Gi-Oh! Mark of Death" developments by reading the original story on my profile! And as always, thank you for reading, and stay awesome.
