In his current location Tsukasa Akira swore loudly and vehemently.

"That was not supposed to happen!" he snarled in muted fury, his cold eyes flashing in anger. What had just happened had been unforeseen; how could someone have just—it was inconceivable...!

He had the Pharaoh right where he had wanted him, cornered with no chance of escaping; he also would have had that Kaiba brat's soul to seal the deal. It was a flawless plan, one that had taken lots of time and organization. Nothing should have gone wrong; although the Millennium Puzzle had been his main concern, Akira had not thought about any interference from anything else.

Then he had shown up.

As the Seal finished circling the Pharaoh and was about to take his soul, a cloaked figure materialized from the shadows, his features obscured by the hood he wore over his face.

Atem and Noa looked over at the stranger in surprise. "Who are you?" snarled Akira angrily.

"The Pharaoh will not lose his soul to the likes of you," said the figure in an emotionless and yet strangely determined tone.

"What do you mean by—?"

Akira never got the chance to finish his inquiry.

The cloaked man raised his hand toward the closing Seal and murmured something spoken in an unfamiliar language, one that even Akira had never heard before. Before he could react, the Orichalcos had immediately exploded, sending his vessel—the Kaiba kid—and the Pharaoh flying backward; the Pharaoh hit the helicopter and was knocked unconscious.

The newcomer walked over to where his vessel's body lay dazedly, placed an open palm on the forehead and said coldly, "Be gone."

His world—through Noa Kaiba's eyes—abruptly had gone black.

Akira swore again and kicked a nearby chair over. He had been so close...! Who was that mystery man, anyway, and what right did he have to get himself involved where it did not concern him? This had not been the first time that the stranger had intervened.

He had been intermittently showing up and throwing a wrench in Akira's plans, even going so far as to thwart his intentions with the bikers. Though he still had the Australian, he had been informed that a similar cloaked figure had aided Raphael and Alister

But he had not shown himself to either one of them from what it sounded like, striking him out as an ally.

Akira paced the room impatiently, his brow furrowed in thought. What were this man's intentions? Could he be negotiated with? More importantly, how much did he know about the Orichalcos?

Obviously more than Akira did.

He slammed his hands on the table and growled, forcing himself to take calming breaths. So the cloaked man was a stumbling block to his plans...big deal. He was smarter. Akira would beat the mystery man at his own game. In the end, he would win—he was going to have the Pharaoh and the tomb robber's souls, along with their Millennium Items. Everything was still on course.

True, the Pharaoh had escaped him—for now. "Let him think that he's won. But he hasn't—he isn't even close," he said aloud, smiling wickedly.

It was rather alarming that the Pharaoh had been able to figure out so much in that short of time that he had been talking to him, but Akira could work around it. Ultimately, he would get what he wanted…he just needed to work at it until he got the job done.

He picked up a cell phone and dialed a number. When he heard an answering voice on the other line he said coldly, "I have your assignment now. Go back to your original location and execute Plan 14. Quickly now."

He hung up and grinned. "We'll see who is smarter," he said aloud.

Blimey...'ow long 'ave I been in 'ere? Wha', did they lose the key or somethin'?

All right, I'll admit it—punching ol' Brutus in the face and givin' him a broken nose wasn' exactly the brightest of ideas…but 'e deserved it! 'e insulted Mother Mary! I don' care how long the cops keep me in solitary confinement! No one insults 'er!

His eyes opened slowly. The walls of the room he was in spun and dipped crazily, causing a wave of nausea to course through him. More to stop the vertigo than the nausea, he closed his eyes again.

What on earth happened?

All he'd done was take a nap; there was not much to do in solitary confinement. Why on earth did his body feel like it had been pounded with a meat tenderizer? Had he been in a fight with the guards? No, wait…that wasn't right…he'd roughed them up. Yet they hadn't hit him…just grabbed his arms and forced them into a strait jacket.

Had they moved him when he had been asleep? The cell had looked different than he remembered in the brief amount of time that his eyes had been open…and his arms no longer felt as if they were enclosed in a strait jacket. Maybe the buggers had taken pity on him and—wait a moment...

Oh.

He'd been dreaming again.

With an inordinate amount of effort, he forced his eyes open again. At first, everything was blurred and indistinct, as it had been before; the room spun so fast that he felt he was going to be sick and closed his eyes, fighting off the light-headedness as best as he could. He tried to open his eyes again and as his vision finally righted itself he began to look around.

Everything in here was dingy, musty, and had a distinct moldy smell to it; he felt that the building he was in had been lost to time and had—until quite recently—no living soul residing in it outside of the rats. He noted that he was chained to the wall via a pair of thick manacles around his wrists and ankles and inwardly growled when he noticed that they were chafing his wrists; he could see dried blood on the chain if he looked close enough.

In all likelihood, though, they were the only things keeping him from collapsing in a heap.

He became aware of the terrible aching pain that was concentrating in various parts of his body, some even erupting into fiery bursts that made his head swim and caused him to grit his teeth against it. But, as he regained more of his consciousness, he realized that it didn't hurt as much as they had initially; he barely felt anything anymore, provided that the injury was not severe enough and that he did not move.

The blokes around here had not exactly fed him (but they did give him water) since his arrival a week ago...or had it been a week and a half...? No, two weeks...aw cripes, he had lost track of time.

When had this all begun? Valon could not remember.

He remembered that he had gone out on his motorcycle Heaven knew how long ago…there was something in his memory about wanting to get out for a breath of fresh air…hadn't Raph asked him if he would get the groceries while he was out? As he'd left, he vaguely remembered hearing Alister warning him about the possibility of ice on the road. Why hadn't Raphael gone…? Oh yeah…the cold he had caught at Thanksgiving. He was still recovering from it.

"Don' worry, Raph," he mumbled weakly then, echoing what he had said that night, "I'll be back b'fore you know it."

He had been almost to the grocery store when a black car had started trying to knock him off the road. From there it was another blur—the sound of screeching metal, the guardrail snapping, falling down the grassy hillside, a sharp pain in his head, and then nothing…

When he had woken up he'd found he was in the back of a moving vehicle, blindfolded with a strip of duct tape over his mouth and his arms bound behind his back. He hadn't been able to stay awake that long and had succumbed to unconsciousness, but not without struggling first.

The men who had kidnapped him brought him to his current location, took off his blindfold and gag, then promptly began to whale on him; the fight was extremely one-sided, what with his arms remaining bound behind his back the entire time.

Another blur entered his memory…probing questions about the Orichalcos…but neither their fists nor their threats had loosened his tongue at the time. He was sure he had remained silent…

They'd kept it up for what had felt like ages, and then had left him alone for a while. Since then, they would intermittently return and try beating the information out of him, but Valon said nothing.

So why did he feel like he had lost an important battle somehow…?

Oh.

…Drat.

They had spiked the water he drank with truth serum and he had drank it without realizing it, until he'd inadvertently let slip a few crucial details about the Orichalcos. He'd clammed up immediately afterward, but the damage had already been done. No doubt the miserable buggers were having a hey-day with what they had obtained.

Since then, Valon refused to drink or eat anything that they offered, though he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep on with this vendetta.

Valon suppressed a shuddering cough and winced as a sharp flash of pain flashed through him. His body was weakened from the lack of water and food, as well as injuries he had sustained during his stay here; as a result, he was helpless to fight the cold that had arrived at least the day before. Looks like Raph gave me whatever he had, he thought ruefully.

Because the only way to get food or assistance was to volunteer information about the Orichalcos, he was going to have to suffer in silence; he'd rather die than be responsible for the Orichalcos's return. He had a vague suspicion that this cold was going to get worse without any attention to it, though, if it had not already.

The door opened and Valon looked up at the entering figures blearily. "Hello, Aussie. The boss wants some more information out of you, and we don't want to disappoint him," said the foremost one, holding a rusted pipe in his hands.

"...Too bad, mate. 'm jus' gonna 'ave t' disappoint 'im," replied Valon weakly.

The first man brought the pipe whistling into Valon's midriff. He gasped, colors bursting in his vision. "You'll tell us, or we'll start bringing out your favorite toys—though technically they're my personal favorites and not yours," he sneered.

Valon had a feeling that this was going to be a long session.

Alister felt the cold water run through his hair and allowed it to trickle down his face. His vision had been wavering and blurring earlier, so he had gone up to the bathroom upon his and Raphael's return to their home, stuck his head under the bathtub faucet, and turned on the water.

He could not afford to rest and would not succumb to his body's request, no matter what kind of protests his body was making; precious time was being wasted and he needed to stay alert.

The search in the warehouse had yielded nothing. He and Ryou small group had reunited with their other companions in front of the warehouse, but no clues had been found—save for what had looked horribly like dried blood and various weapons with the substance all over them (it was likely his and Raphael's blood on the instruments, he thought morbidly).

If Valon had been there, they had not found any clue as to where their young companion had been taken; Raphael had suspected that Valon probably had never been in it to begin with, since if he and Alister had escaped the chances were that they would take their youngest friend with them.

After scouring the building thoroughly, the small group had disbanded: Ryou and Bakura had gone back to meet up with Yugi and his friends at the hospital (Bakura protesting angrily all the way) to check on the Kaiba brothers, and Raphael and Alister had decided to gather their thoughts and figure out their next course of action at their residence.

Besides…no one would answer or talk to two ragged, bloody, and weary looking bikers.

Alister straightened up, turning the water faucet off and glancing at his reflection in the mirror. His gray eyes were bloodshot, framed by dark shadows under them. His skin was so pale that it looked almost translucent; his flipped magenta hair stood out against it horribly.

He grimaced at the sight, reaching up to pull his stained sweater off and over his head. Noting the bandages, he carefully undid the bandages and inspected his wounded torso.

Various cuts and bruises mottled his chest, each with its own degree of severity; one nasty looking cut had a few stitches holding it together. At the stitches on the cut, he frowned. Odd…those stitches were not the right kind for that type of injury…who had bandaged him? Certainly not a doctor.

He eyed his wounds emotionlessly a moment longer before opening the medicine cabinet, grabbing the first aid kit and stepping out into the hall. Alister entered his room, throwing his sweatshirt carelessly into the hamper; he probably would not ever wear it again.

He sat himself on the edge of the bed and began to re-bandage his injuries. It was painstakingly slow, but within ten minutes the cuts were dressed and covered by expertly applied bandages; he even took out the improperly applied stitches and carefully redid them, taking care not to aggravate the wound any further.

Alister winced, slowly rising off of his bed and walking to his closet. When he opened it, he took out a familiar purple tank top and a pair of black pants. He knew that the weather was hardly appropriate for the shirt; however, he knew that he would be able to stay awake and alert because of it.

With cold air blowing up the front of it all the time, it would be impossible for him to not stay awake.

His bandages peeked out from underneath it, but he hardly cared—he never paid special attention to his appearance to begin with. Alister ignored his tired reflection in the mirror, instead choosing to go downstairs and join Raphael, who was in the kitchen.

The blonde had changed into a long-sleeved version shirt that was similar to the one he had been wearing earlier. He was poring over a map of the city when the redhead came into the kitchen, trying to find something—though what it was he was looking for Alister would have to ask him.

He cleared his throat to announce his presence. Raphael looked up at him briefly and raised an eyebrow at his outfit but said nothing about it; he knew better than to say anything. Instead, he said gruffly, "I've been looking at the map."

"And?"

"I've figured out that where we live and the warehouse we were imprisoned in are really close to each other," he said, pointing to two circled locations on the paper.

Alister frowned and sat at the table, knowing immediately what his friend was thinking. Valon could very possibly be somewhere around one of the two locations, but that wasn't enough to go on. His eyes scanned the map, landing on a familiar name. "Raphael."

"Hm?"

"The warehouse is also pretty close to the Turtle Game Shop," said Alister, picking up a pen and circling the area. "These three locations seem to form a pyramid," he continued, drawing three lines and connecting the circles with them. "We could possibly start within the set boundaries of this area and go on from what we gathered."

"And if we don't find him there? They could easily move him from one location to the next and we'd be none the wiser about it," said Raphael pessimistically. He sighed in frustration, wincing slightly. "Shoulder hurts," he said tersely when Alister looked at him in concern

The older biker frowned and said after another moment's pause, "We may need to recruit the Pharaoh and his friends. Yugi did say that he and his friends would be willing to help us…we can use them to help us search the area."

Alister nodded slowly, thinking about that idea. Though he was reluctant to ask Kaiba himself for help, he knew that without a group effort it would be almost impossible to find Valon.

"Guess we have no choice but to do just that," Alister said grimly. He stood up and strode into the hallway, heading for the hall closet. "I'll be right back," he said over his shoulder as he left.

He opened the closet door and pulled out his trenchcoat. Alister put it on and turned to return to the kitchen when he paused, tilting his head in confusion as an extreme feeling of unease filled him and he looked around. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something wrong here…

He had enough time to see the man charging him from the corner of his eyes before he was pulled into the living room, a hand going over his mouth.

He struggled furiously against his attacker, pushing back against the man violently and knocking him into the wall. When this failed to free him from his attacker he instantly went limp, becoming a ragdoll in his adversary's grip; the man was strong, but the weight of Alister's body broke his grip and Alister hit the floor. Immediately he executed a judo kick aimed at his knees, hoping to knock the attacker off balance.

Instead, his assailant dropped onto Alister's body, pinning him down and his hands going to Alister's throat. The redhead let out a strangled gasp as the man's body applied pressure onto his wounded torso but he refused to give up, struggling to get his attacker off of him with a snarl.

Where's Raphael? Did this man get him too?

Spots were rapidly filling his vision and making it difficult to fight, since the pressure on his throat was cutting off his air supply, but still he fought back, hoping that his older friend had not been harmed.

"Hey, Red," said his attacker with a sneer, and Alister glared up at him as he tried to punch the man. The other man easily knocked the punch away and continued to speak. "See, Aussie ain't bein' too willing to give us what we want, so we figure that maybe you might be able to convince him to let us have the information that we need. So you're gonna come with me, nice and quiet-like."

"No he's not," growled Raphael abruptly as he brought a porcelain lamp on top of the henchman's head.

The sound of breaking china rent the air and his assailant's grip loosened. Alister took the opportunity to break free, rolling out from under the man sitting on him and managing to kick his assailant in the face before collapsing on his side, struggling to recapture his breath. He'd leave this struggle to Raphael for now; entering the fight in this state would only endanger himself and distract the blonde.

By the time he had managed to get his breath back and his vision returned, Raphael had subdued the masked man and was moving to check on him. "Alister?"

The blonde got down next to him, his eyes radiating concern as he studied the other man. He had heard the racket from the kitchen and had moved out to see what was going on. When he hadn't seen Alister in the hallway, he had moved to the living room just in time; the slender man had been grappling ferociously with his attacker but it had been apparent that he had been about to lose.

Now he surveyed Alister, trying to determine if he was all right. There was a glassiness in his gray eyes that hadn't been there before and the other young man was breathing heavily, but beyond that it seemed that his friend was no worse for the wear.

The redhead looked over to the prone body of the black-clad man and eyed it with disgust. "Guess he forgot about you," said Alister grimly as he massaged his throat. When he moved his fingers away there were visible fingerprints that stood out against his pale neck.

Raphael shot the motionless figure a dirty look and retorted, "That's his problem."

"At least there was one good thing about being nearly strangled," said Alister, rising to his feet with Raphael's aid and moving to his attacker, nudging him with his foot to make certain that the intruder was still unconscious. "He confirmed that Valon is still alive."

Raphael's eyes narrowed. "I think it's high time we ask our own questions," he said, grabbing the henchman's arm and unceremoniously dragging out into the hall and starting toward the kitchen.

Alister agreed.

"'S'cuse me, doc. Me 'n' Mokuba here were wondering if you got any information on his brothers," said Jounouchi easily, stepping in the way of one of the busy looking men.

The middle aged and slightly balding man looked up at him with surprise; his name tag read Dr. Barton. "I'm sorry?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, confusion evident in his eyes.

"Noa and Seto Kaiba. Do you have any information on them?" asked Jounouchi with a touch of impatience.

Dr. Barton looked down to Mokuba and recognition dawned on his face. "Oh yes, I know you," he said. "Hang on and wait here—I'll go see if I can't find out what's going on. I haven't heard anything yet from the OR, but let me go see if they've been moved to rooms," he said, hurrying to a nearby desk to get the information.

Jounouchi grinned and looked down to the raven-haired Kaiba. "See kid? What did I tell ya?" he said. "I know at least Noa's okay."

Mokuba offered a weak smile, but his eyes never left Dr. Barton.

Jounouchi sighed. Perhaps hearing that Noa had been endangered had not been good for the poor child's nerves; no one had any idea how badly Noa had been hurt, and Heaven alone knew how bad the eldest Kaiba was injured.

Yugi and Atem had remained behind to explain what had happened on the roof to his remaining friends, while Jounouchi had agreed to go with Mokuba to make sure that Akira did not try to harm the Kaibas again. The ebony-haired child still was not sure how Noa had gotten on the roof (neither was Jounouchi, for that matter), but either way he was determined to find out how his brothers were doing.

Dr. Barton finished his work on the computer, but Jounouchi noted the grim expression on the doctor's face and he felt his shoulders tighten. That look was never a good one.

The man returned to them, holding a clipboard in his hands. Dr. Barton hesitated a moment longer before saying, "I've got the information you requested."

Jounouchi narrowed his eyes at the heavy tone the older man's voice had taken. Definitely not a good omen.

"Noa Kaiba is in room 302, down the hall to the left; we have no idea how he disappeared from our sight, but his room has security guards stationed around it. His condition is stable."

Mokuba's eyes filled with relief, and he asked eagerly, "What about Seto? Is he okay?"

Jounouchi knew something was wrong when the man flinched, hesitating as he looked down at the clipboard. That sort of look was always reserved for somber occasions, he knew. Something had happened to the CEO—why else would there be this amount of reluctance to talk about Kaiba's condition?

And a few moments later his fears were confirmed.

"Your brother, Mokuba, he…he was very badly injured," said Dr. Barton slowly, not looking at either one of them. "He contracted blood poisoning due to all the metal flakes in his bloodstream. He fought as hard as he could, but…I'm sorry."

The child stared in disbelief, unwilling to comprehend what was being said to him. "No…no, that's not true! It can't be!" he cried. The doctor wouldn't look at him. "You're lying…you're lying! Tell me the truth! Where's Seto?" he wailed, tears falling.

Jounouchi felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. He already knew—he had known the minute Dr. Barton had hesitated—but it was a whole different thing having an official doctor saying it aloud.

"I'm sorry, Mokuba...but Seto Kaiba's dead."