DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything within/to do with the Yu-Gi-Oh! anime/manga franchise. Those are (c) to Takahashi Kazuki, as well as Konami and any others I may have forgotten to mention. This is simply a work of fiction inspired by the original anime/manga, and is in no way, shape, or form gaining a sort of profit nor am I associated with it in any way. I do, however, own the plot of this story, and I will not tolerate any form of copying and/or plagiarism.

Please respect the hard work I have put into this and all of my other stories, and do not steal/copy/claim this story as your own, nor post it/use it anywhere without my direct permission.

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Thank you, and happy reading.

~ Fallen

The Room was dark. It is always dark. It is black. I see nothing from inside of the Room. Not even myself. Sometimes, I close my eyes, and pretend that I am the dark, waiting for my Other to appear. The light. Then, I can make-believe that I am the light, instead. It is full of color - something I know very little about. My surroundings, the Facility, are either dark or light - black or white. There is very little gray. Very little anything, for that matter.

As I lay on the ground, pretending to myself to swirl and conceal like the dark around me, I hear noises. There are footsteps. My eyes blink. I think they are open, but it is too black around my body for me to tell properly. Someone is approaching, I realize, and quickly close them again.

Someone was coming to the Room.

I did not like it when They came to the Room. My Room.

My Prison.

When someone of the Outside comes to my Room, they came bearing gifts. Not the good gifts, that are accompanied with smiles and joy and light. The bad kind. The kind that brings sad faces and water in my eyes and Darkness. I don't know what to call those. Because I certainly do know that they do not make me happy. Not in the slightest.

I hear noise, and, suddenly, there is light. Blinding, bright, beautiful light. I am facing a wall this time. A wall that surrounds and confines and produces the Darkness. And me. They entrap me, too. Me, and my only friends.

The dark, the light, and myself.

I hear more footsteps, and my eyes flutter open to halfway. They stop, an estimated few paces away. I blink. the dazzling light disrupting my oh-so depraved eyes. It was hauntingly beautiful. It brought both freedom and pain.

"Subject six-four-U-G," the person recited with a metallic, unfeeling tone, "Rise."

I did.

My feet moved without thought. They always did. Because it was why I was created. Not born. Never born. Always created. Crafted. Manufactured. Made of donated, voluntary cells and DNA. Conceived inside a series of scientific calculations and testing tubes. Born into the world as I am.

Nothing more than a living experiment.

I turned to him. My Creator. My Master.

He was tall - much taller than me- with hair that was roundly shaped over his head. Bangs cut closely above his eyes, styled neatly with a severity that only made him look intimidating. It was... I believe it is known as 'brown'. It is different from the light and Darkness that serves eternally as my Prison - my severely-limited World. It is pretty. But, his eyes are prettier. They are bright. They are cold. Yet, they are also light. Tinted light. Tinted in sky.

Blue.

I like blue. It makes me think of the existence known as 'sky', of which I have never before seen. Merely been told of.

My Master is passive. Not mean, but also not kind. He blinks to me. His back turns to my eyes.

"Follow me."

I do.

My bare feet lift and fall in an automated step.

It is the trait all Subjects hold. We are unable to deny a request our Superiors make.

As payment for the life we are given, each Subject is trained to obey and comply to the wishes of our Masters and Mistresses. Our Creators.

Our Gods.

I am Subject 64UG. I do not know what this means, nor any significance it may hold. Though, I highly doubt it does. I have been told, time and time again, what I am.

A freak.

A monster.

A demon.

A revelation.

A 'breakthrough in modern-day technology.'

Though, I am unaware of what this all means. But I do know that I have no worth. No future. My very life is a gift - a privilege. But, then again... is that not what all life is to begin with? Manufactured, or otherwise? I suppose not... because I know what I am.

I am completely replaceable.

But I do not agree.

Though I might have been made as different, I am still life. They say I am nothing. But how could I truly be nothing? At the least, I most surely am something. A breathing, bleeding, living something. I am 64UG.

I am me.

"If I am me, how can I be nothing?" My voice works without my conscious consent. It surprises me, but I hide it. I stare ahead as my Superior glances to me with a mixture of surprise, confusion, and disapproval. I tighten my posture in nervousness.

I was not given permission to speak. I have gone against the wishes of my Masters.

Rule five: Do not speak unless granted permission or directly spoken to, my head recites one of many laws appointed to my life's edicate.

"What do you mean by this?" Master inquires, facing forward again.

I bite my bottom lip gently. "I mean what I meant," I reply quietly, feeling unsure, "If I am me, how can I truly be nothing? If I am me, I most certainly am something, aren't I, sir?"

Rule seventeen: All Creators are Superior, and shall be treated and addressed to as such.

He does not reply in a way of solving my personal inquiry. He simply leads a way down the sterile, blindingly White halls. The White both hurts and comforts my eyes with its stimulation.

"Master?" I murmur hesitantly.

"Speak."

"May I question as to where we are going?"

He paused again.

"There is a group of students visiting the Facility as a learning experience through the residential school. You are a part of this experience, via demonstration and inquiry," he eventually grants my answer.

I look to the square-tiled floor in contemplation, my bare feet making curious noises when the struck the ground, when compared to Master's. "Sir?" I mumbled again, hoping I wouldn't strike his temper.

There was a miniscule sigh. "Speak," he allowed.

I bit my lip again. "What is 'school'?"

"It is a place where children go to learn."

"Is it like the Facility?"

"In some ways, yes. In others, no."

His tone is a clear indication that he wishes for me to stop talking, so I remain silent this time. But I am still curious.

I wonder. I wonder how many Superiors will be there. Will they be nice? Mean? Old, or young? What will they look like? What will I be demonstrating? What questions will they ask? How am I to answer? How long will I be here? Will I have to partake in Experiments?

Inwardly, I shiver.

I hate Experiments. Tests. They often make me hurt, or feel funny afterwards. I do not know why the Creators preform these Tests. Perhaps they are misled in some way about them? Or are they really meant to feel nice? Am I mistaking pain for pleasure?

Is there something wrong with my head?

Maybe I am falling ill.

We stop at a simple, hinged doorway, and I lower my gaze, hands folding one another at my front. I close my eyes. Before we enter, however, my Superior leans closer. "You had better keep those thoughts to yourself, for the time-being, U-G," he graciously advises into my ear, "Those questions can be dangerous. You can get into much-unwanted trouble."

Rule number one-hundred-six: Keep questions to oneself unless requested to specify by a Superior, I noted in my head, adding another lay to a numerous mental list of its predecessors. I nodded my understanding. "Hai, sir. I shall refrain."

"Good."

And, with that, he pushed open the door, and led our way inside.