Chapter 1 - The Plans of Children and Men
Life cares little for what you think it should be. It rarely, if ever, acquiesces to adhere to whatever plans you attempt to thrust upon it. It will happily throw you from the path which you have so carefully laid out. It will watch as you tumble and flail, standing side by side with Fate and Chance.
Tick.
The night had not gone to plan. Nothing had happened as Pegasus had envisioned it. In one of the few times in one's life when everything had to go perfectly. In one of the rare and pivotal moments when everything stood on the pin sharp point of a single decision. When all events had to go exactly to plan.
They hadn't. Everything had gone wrong. Everything had gone wrong.
Pegasus sighed. The strange sound filled the empty darkness of his office.
He was a cool and calm negotiator. He was a level headed businessman. He was a constant island of serenity, no matter the storms which blew about him. Despite his theatrical outbursts in the press. Despite his flamboyant public persona. Pegasus, Maximillion Pegasus, the great businessman was a quiet and thoughtful person at his core.
He possessed poise, grace, and maturity which knew few equals. His true emotions were carefully guarded and his turbulent thoughts meticulously examined, to prevent them from seeping out at some inopportune moment.
However, there was one person who always managed to draw strong emotions from him. One person who seemed to draw every strong emotion from him. One person in the world for whom his heart was a raw open beating bundle of blood and emotions. One person for whom Pegasus suddenly transformed into the little boy he had once been, a century ago. With just a look, this one person could disarm and unbalance him.
That had been the person he had tried to speak to this night. That was the person he had hoped he could be a calm and composed adult with this night. It had been a carefully planned gamble.
He had planned to sit down with him and have a reasonable conversation. He was going to lay out for him the dire situation which was, even at this moment, unfolding. For weeks he had compiled his list of reasons. A conversation, an argument, a plea which would call upon the passions of the other man. He had practiced what he would say. He had anticipated the resistance that he would face. He had charted how he would use their common experiences to steer this man towards the decision which needed to be made. He would use this man's emotions to spur him to action. Every conceivable angle had been painstakingly analyzed.
His eyes flicked down to the notebook, with its carefully written characters, where he had constructed his plans.
He had prepared himself so thoroughly.
But…
But he should have known.
As soon as his stomach had rolled at the smell. That faint whiff of something which to the nose of his memories heralded a savage storm. He should have known better.
In the quiet, alone, he knew that he had known better. Unfortunately, he had rationalized that the plan called for him to push through and make his case.
Pegasus clenched his fist.
He had been so sure that his planned conversation could still take place. His singular focus- no- his arrogance had undone him. He had thought that he could overcome the corrupting influence of Yami and appeal to Seto. He had somehow thought that there was a chance for a civil conversation in the wake of that monster.
But deep within him…he had known that it wouldn't be possible.
They had both been under that monster's thumb. He knew well enough how unsettling it was to be in the presence of that embodiment of evil.
A sickening revulsion rolled through the man as he thought of that thumb. That hand. Another's hand. Many hands.
He gripped the edge of his desk and tried not to vomit. Waves of sickness crashed down upon him.
Somehow he had thought that he could overcome this tumult in another. Convince the man to join him. Set them both on a path that would bring them once more into that corrosive presence.
Stupidity.
Arrogance.
Foolishness.
He shuddered and realized that his hand was to his mouth. The sickness swirled with his self-reproach. Pegasus had looked at every angle but he had not anticipated Yami's actions- more importantly he had willfully neglected to examine his own emotions. He had forgotten about the effect that Seto had upon him.
For Seto, Pegasus' heart was a bloody thumping thing, so overwhelmed with emotion. It was like a living and raw thing, held in the hand of a soft little boy with silver hair.
The boy Pegasus had once been…
Max…
The boy who had been scrapped out of the garbage. The boy who had been taken out of a human hell and dropped into a supernatural nightmare.
No matter the space of time or lifetime, Seto would always have Max's…Pegasus' heart.
In the depth of despair and the dark of night Pegasus knew that Yami would always own his stomach. The sickening waves of the compounded nightmares of his memories and the shared pain of Seto's torture.
However… in his face, the thing in Pegasus' skull… There was something which belonged to the monster who had made him theirs. That "eye" would always belong to Malik.
Pegasus felt his palm on his cheek, the fingertips reflexively tracing the polished curves of the abomination, mercilessly planted in his skull.
The hate which blinded Seto was not foreign to Pegasus…
All the more reason that he should have realized the impossibility of the task he had endeavored to accomplish.
"How could I have been so foolish?" Soft words fell from the man's lips. They floated off into the empty darkness.
The second hand on his clock swept. The minute hand ticked. The question repeated itself in his mind.
Tick.
How could I be so foolish?
A brave little boy, whispering in a cramped and dim space. Promises and assurances, repeated as a chant. A prayer. A sacred ritual. Words spoken by a boy who could no more understand the importance of his words than the impossibility of his promises. Caught by the ears of a boy who tucks each word into his heart. Memorizing the sounds. Finding Hope in each syllable.
Tick.
How could I be so foolish?
Watching a little boy stand up, ready to leave the illusionary safety of some closet or cupboard. A smaller boy begging him to stay. A bitter ritual repeated time and again. Every time, holding desperately onto some impossible dream that this time he will stay. Little hands reaching for the other boy. Little fingers grasping at nothing but Hope.
Tick.
How could I be so foolish?
Purple eyes hovering mere centimeters away but somehow pressing down with the weight of the world. White hair falling in a curtain making the closeness even more complete and even more unbearable. "I have some news for you…" A cruel white smile cuts across dark flesh. "Seems Seto has been released…"
Tick.
How could I be so foolish?
Screams fill a cold chamber. Crashing against the walls. Rushing back with greater fury. A cacophony of agony drowning out all other sounds. Underneath it, the jarring rattling of chains. Iron tethers set to dancing by the violent thrashing of thin limbs in their the futile convulsions. All completely obliterating the cause of the screams and thrashing. A sucking noise goes unheard but its sensation is not muted. An instrument is inserted again and again. Carefully the tool digs deeper and deeper. Employed with dispassionate precision.
A jerk of the head causes metal to scrape bone.
Tick.
How could I be so foolish?
In a dimly lit room an eye stares, almost without seeing. Held before it is a mirror but the reflection is not of the beholder. It must be a lie… The face shown on its surface belongs to another… Disgust and terror grips the soul who holds that eye. This face before him, one half belonging to a boy and the other…to a nightmare…it is supposed to be his own. It cannot be. This face cannot belong to any human…
The eye, swollen and red from an overabundance crying and complete lack of sleep, takes in the alien face. It stares in horror at the brutal scene reflected in the mirror. A marred half of a face is coupled with a mauled lump of flesh, stitches, and some foreign object. The eye would cry if its tears hadn't been exhausted.
A dead golden lump stares, unblinking, back at the boy.
Tick.
How could I be so foolish?
A finger traces lines of stitches. Over and over again. Fingers run over bald scalp as stubble begins to regrow. In a constant compulsion, fingers follow the curves of the object now taking up residences in a gaunt face.
Blank thoughts like the endless 'ssh'ing of static fill a broken mind. Dirty, bony, fingertips move without thought. Blood is smeared in their wake. Pus marks their trail.
Servants and a slave come to wipe away the evidence of the fingers' never-ending work but the fingers return to their toil as soon as they are released.
Tick.
How could I be so foolish?
Alone in a cold chamber. Looking, without seeing at the stones of a wall. An unending throbbing lives in the place where an eye had once been. Blood and other things ooze down a swollen cheek. Fingers twitch and jerk in an endless dance, searching for the flesh they can no longer reach. Thin arms sit in thick metal shackles, restraining them from the nightmare which they seek to explore. Hands shake as they fight to once more interrogate the testament of cruelty carved into their owner's flesh.
A bitter taste both real and imagined fills a mouth. Drool, blood, and pus mixes in a steady and unending line from eye socket to chin. Red, white, and yellow, all briefly glimpsed in a looking glass when the beholder is made to view his nightmare.
Tick.
How could I be so foolish?
In the depths of darkness and despair a fresh new violation takes place. A throat is opened. Life pumps out, into a greedy mouth.
A new liquid is forced between slack lips. A new life for one who is hovering on the brink of death. A final end to a life which was so filled with anguish and emptiness.
Tick.
How could I be so foolish?
Fresh screams fill a cold chamber. They roll out and crash upon the walls. They roll back, splintered and multiplied. Claw like fingers desperately reach for a burning throat.
A mind divorced from a body is dragged back, cruelly, to be tied to the hell its body now must grapple with.
Pain is defined anew. What was once thought to be the limits are dismissed as only a prelude.
Over and over again…
Tick.
How could I be so foolish?
A sickening but so desired taste on lips. Lips crack as a greedy mouth opens and gulps. They split as desperate whispers hiss forth, horrible prayers for more…
The last remnant of some life which was ended, for the express purpose of being consumed, pours down a throat which feverishly works to receive it.
An eye stares up at a bare ceiling, away from stained fingers.
Its owner does not wish to begin the process of self hate just yet. Sustenance is necessary but the depression and hate are a luxury.
Tick.
How could I be so foolish?
Blood filling a mouth and swallowed. Sickness at the weakness of oneself.
The brutalized face is now settled, the turmoil has settled into an uneasy truce. The disappearance of the immediate need for blood to heal oneself has now given way to crippling waves of hate and loathing.
Survival seems disgustingly assured and now one must consider what cost their survival comes at.
Tick.
How could I be so foolish?
"How beautiful!" Purple eyes fill up a field of vision. They dart and jump from detail to detail as they admire their owner's handiwork. Purred words fill up the silence. "My work is flawless. Don't you agree?" A monster's face turns and a mirror is revealed. The lying glass shows a face, now ugly and wretchedly transformed. Dark fingers trace a brow where hair has begun to be allowed to grow again.
A thick poultice still rings the now dead eye socket, assurance against the constant unthinking attempts to oust the intruder. An original blueprint for what the whole person should be, is chipped away. The viewer stares at the lying glass and something in them pokes at the dead lump that was once their heart.
Everything is numb.
Tick.
How could I be so foolish?
A fresh hell is torn open. Words. Images. Sensations. Desires. Fears. Woes. Pain. Anguish. Terror. Joy. Every thing that might live in the mind of a person now plays endlessly for an unwilling peeping Tom. His mind looks through the abominable 'eye' that now resides in his head. He sees it all.
He sees the thoughts of the one who transformed him. He sees the words and images, plans unfolding and wrapping tighter around him…intent on dragging him into a shackled eternity as a tool.
…but…he also sees fears, woes, pain, and terror…things he had never dreamed could be within the monster who thought to master him.
Tick.
How could I be so foolish?
Meat is torn free. A spray of blood explodes forth. Purple eyes widen in shock. A swift strike. The crash of glass shattering as it hits the floor. A mouth works without the reward of words. A head is held aloft, separated from its body. The body convulses, the last messages of the divorced brain sent out, spurring on a useless fight in the limbs.
A dispassionate eye looks at the head in its owner's lap. Everything is suddenly quiet. The cacophony of thoughts suddenly ended, like a door closed on a storm.
Tick.
How could I be so foolish?
Fingers, stained with blood, trace a white brow over a frozen purple eye. They reach effortlessly into the socket. A purple eye comes free of its home. Pulling until they feel the satisfying snaps. Nerves tear free.
An eye sits without seeing in the palm of a creature who was once a boy. A creature who was once afraid.
Tick.
How could I be so foolish?
Sitting on a luxurious sheet. Staring at the head in one hand. Looking deeply into the empty space. An eye was left without a home or a care for some terrified servant to find.
Come what may. This peace is worth any trouble. A parting thought of a mind about to finally find sleep. With a head wrapped in thin arms.
Tick.
How could I be so foolish?
Hope is a boon and a crippling drug. Hope that someone will come to save one from their nightmares. Hope that pain will end. Hope that some solution will present itself if you only wait patiently. And most insidious of them all, the hope that the current torment is the worst that it could ever be.
All dispelled as a boy was transformed into a creature and the creature in its turn becomes a beast. Shaping the world around him with peers that he never requested. Using a tool meant for another to dominate. A strange and fantastical beast emerges from an unknown dungeon and spreads its wings. It takes flight.
Pegasus…
Tick.
How could I be so foolish?
Pegasus, the man, the beast, the public persona. The calm tactician. The one who saved himself. Now he finds himself in need of another's assistance. Once more he gives in to the drug that is Hope.
Tick.
How could I be so foolish?
Sitting across from a brother. Losing to a tidal wave of emotions. Yelling. Quietly scolding. Throwing away all composure to deliver a cruel truth.
Once more betrayed by Hope. But now it is not one life held in the balance but two.
Pegasus stared into the dark space before him. The lives of two people had rested in his hands and he had been so foolish as to try to pass that responsibility off to another. He had been so blinded by old promises. So unsure of his own abilities. So disrespectful of the power of hate. So willing to fall under the thrall of Hope.
Now, the plan was worthless and a disaster…
His eye flicked to the clock on his desk. What was he doing? The night had not ended. The minutes had ticked away. Ticked away and piled up as he had lamented his foolishness. As his sins had piled up. As…
No!
Now was his moment. He had accepted his foolishness. He had wallowed in his inequities. But he could no longer dwell on his stupidity. Lives hung in the balance! He would not let his regrets hold him hostage! He would not allow them to suffer for his sins of stupidity!
He would be a hero once more!
Had he the capacity, his blood would be thumping in his ears. Instead, all that filled him, as he gathered his courage, were the thoughts and words of a new plan as he stitched it together. There was little chance of subterfuge now. There was no chance of outside help. There was still a chance, though…
He had to act!
The intoxication of Hope filled him again.
He was Maximillion Pegasus. He had staff, money, and power beyond anyone's reckoning! He could still salvage this night.
He stood up from his desk.
He would amass his forces.
He would-
The telephone rang.
The phone was in his hand before he thought about the action. "What?" He didn't have time for some conversation-
"Max, you were right. I've been spoiled and blind all these years. I need to take care of some business."
Every fiery nerve, every muscle, tensed and ready for action, froze. Pegasus felt his legs give way under him and he fell back down into his chair.
A steadying breath came over the line.
"If I don't return, I'm going to need you to take care of Mokuba."
Suddenly, the ready and hard hero-to-be was gone. The little boy with the raw heart sat with the phone to his ear and his heart in his hand. "Wait! What's going on?" He sat up straighter and his hand gripped the receiver as if he had some hope to reach through it and take a hold of the man, his brother, on the other end.
Silence met his question.
The heart seized in the hand. Unsure of what it was readying itself for. Prepared to burst.
Terror filled Pegasus.
"I have a promise to keep and another to atone for breaking."
Fear. Hope. Foolishness. Love. Bravery deferred. Terror. Confusion.
"What does that-" Tremors ran through the man. Words from a promise still stamped upon his mind and stitched across his heart surfaced.
"When we are free we will go anywhere. We will do anything. Best of all, we won't have to ask for permission." Words in his mind floated to him over the telephone line. The heart in the boy's hand began to pump frantically. Pegasus' mind raced. Hope blossomed.
"If I'm not back in a day, take Mokuba and disappear."
The heart seized. Hope froze in its growth.
Pegasus jumped, "Seto! Wait! No! I have a plan! We can stop him together! SETO! SETO!" Even as he screamed his brother's name the hollowness of the disconnected call told him that there was no one to hear his cries.
Suddenly, everything which had been laid to rest. All of those hopes. All of those plans. All of it suddenly shattered and burst into flames, an explosion of thoughts. This was no longer the time for quiet contemplation. It was the time for action
He had to save those children. He had to save his brother.
Heroes come in all shapes and sizes. They all have different skills and abilities. They each have their time. More often than not the hero is not who you expect. Or the expected hero acts when you least expect them. However, every hero has Hope. We expect that they hope for the positive outcome that we all wish for. We expect that they will fight to realize it. We don't appreciate the dark and tangled web of Regrets which Hope had to fight through to help transform an individual into the hero, they prove themselves to be. Pegasus grappled with his Regrets and grasped Hope once more…unaware of the struggles of his brother that night.
