A/N: Please note that this is of course Fan Fiction, therefore the events described would be slightly deviated from the orginal telling.
And nope, I in fact do not own Yugioh or anything else I write about.
Chapter 11
The night was colder than usual as Diem made her way through the crowd to make it inside. Being as early as she was, and too anxious to gamble, she took a seat at a table in the lounge and waited. Her eyes scanned the room several times for her friends, half hoping to see them and half to avoid them, at least for tonight. But they were not here, she wondered in those moments if they were as concered for her as she was for them. Whether or not they were searching for her or if they actually cared about her at all, or if they were just like everyone else.
Now, frequently getting hit on by guys who had enough alcohol in their system to boast their confidence was pretty common when she was here alone, but tonight it was insufferable. Each one being turned away with their pride damaged, even the more drunk and adamant ones were not staying around her for long. As the clock on the high wall showed a quarter till midnight, a stranger in black appeared beside Diem. She was about to give him the same treatment as the rest of the hopeless romantics that had attempted to woo her thus far. But upon looking up at the man, it became clear that he was not here to flirt.
"We are ready for you, follow me," the stranger said.
Diem stood up slowly and followed the man across the room. Every other man in the lounge snorted in aggravation, slightly annoyed that he had managed to succeed where they could not. The stranger went through a door in the back with Diem following closely behind. Then down a long flight of steps going into a dungeon like basement. They continued on through a few doorways with Rare Hunters standing guard at each one.
Until they at last came upon a final doorway, which when opened revealed a small crowded room that was lit entirely by torchlight. All within were wearing the cloaks and were assembled in a ritualistic fashion. One Rare Hunter stood apart from the others at the end of the room waiting. The room was evenly parted on both sides with rows of Rare Hunters, each looking strangely sinister with their veiled faces and flickering firelight bouncing off their forms. Two other men were led out from a side room when Diem walked in, they wore ordinary clothes and seemed eager to be here.
The man in black stopped after taking a few steps in and instructed Diem to join the other two men who were standing now in the center of the room. Feeling more out of place and nervous then ever, she took the few steps to stand next to the other two. She had the strange feeling that all of their invisible eyes were upon her. Then the low chanting began among the rows of Rare Hunters on both sides. To Diem, the language sounded similar to Arabic, but it wasn't, it sounded far older and far more malevolent.
Directly in front of them stood the solitary Rare Hunter with a torch in hand. Whoever it could be, it was definately not Marik, this person was far too big and tall. Diem quickly placed him as being the Rare Hunter with the tattooed face. Which he was proven to be as soon as he began talking and she instantly recongized his voice.
"Be proud for making it this far initiates," he said as he walked forward slowly.
His voice booming over the steady thrum of the chanting, which was becoming louder. Out of his robe came a long slender knife with a golden handle. The blade itself was elaborately curved and jagged.
Then he began to talk in the same language that the rest were chanting as he approached the man on the left. He said something that Diem could not understand as the initiate extended his left hand, palm upwards. Without a moment of hesitation the tip of the knife slit across his hand. The initiate was trying to hide as much pain as he could from the rapid cut as the torch was quickly brought under his bleeding hand. His hand remained inches above the flame, drops of blood steadily feeding the fire. After a few moments the torch was moved and a similar situation happened to the man in the middle. Though for him, his muffled scream was heard over the chanting.
At last it was Diem's turn as the man moved to stand in front of her. He said the same phrase and waited for her hand. The thought of how many people bled on that knife was sickening. But like everything else in her history dealing with the Rare Hunters, she had no choice.
"Against my better judgement," Diem said as her hand rose up.
The knife ran across her palm quickly. Diem winced in pain, but it did not hurt as bad as she expected. Her hand remained aloft, dripping blood onto the flames.
All sound abruptly ended as the torch was moved out from under her bleeding hand. The initiation was over, everyone shuffled out of the room as the four remained in the center, staring at the man with the knife and torch. A nod of his head signaled them to follow through a door which was opposite from the one the rest had left through.
They were shocked to notice how clean and tidy the room was upon entering. Though filled to the ceiling with various types of materials, everything appeared very organized in the small dimly lit room. The last man inside shut the door as the tall tattooed man turned around to face them.
"Now then, this is our base here in Al Jizah. Whenever times of trouble befall you expect safety here. You will be needing these," the man said.
He took a few steps to the right where several metal lockers were lined up against the wall. After opening it he shifted through to pull out three purple cloaks and threw them one at a time to the three initiates. Diem's eyes examined the cloak she held closer after feeling holes and tears on the fabric. After a few seconds of staring in the dim light, she could see large blood stains and rips across the front.
"Mine is covered in blood," Diem protested in a slightly unnerved voice.
In a quaint response the man simply exchanged the cloak for another in the locker.
"You three have been selected for placement in the higher echelon of Rare Hunters. But that will only come once you have proven yourselves in the field. If you have not been burned away by the time your hand has healed, then you might achieve the benefits of your status. Do not attempt to defect, steal or underhand the organization in any way. You will be found out and the consequences will be most dire.
Until you have been proven you must use the cards in your current dueling deck. Trust must be earned first before you can request cards or approved decks from the organization. The hunts begin every night at midnight, meetings will be set up days ahead of time at predetermined locations, attendence is mandatory. Do you three understand?" he asked.
All three nodded without saying a word.
"Very well," he said and pointed at one of the men. "Suit up and begin working upstairs in the duelist dens."
The man bowed and quickly left, shutting the door behind him.
"You suit up and join the assault groups for tonight, use the code 'Fakula,' they will understand," he said, pointing to the man on Diem's left.
As soon as he bowed and quickly walked out, the man turned to Diem.
"You...come sit down," he said, turning away and walking over to a desk at the far side of the room.
He pulled back his hood to reveal his scarred face as he sat down. Diem took a seat in the chair in front of the desk, the cloak resting across her legs. He began to pull open the drawers and pulled out a bottle of alcohol, guaze and bandages.
"Let me see your hand," he said in a softer voice, softer than Diem had ever heard him use before.
"It's fine, I will take care of it later," Diem said without thinking.
But to her suprise she was not being punished or threated for disobeying an order from her superior. After all she was now a sworn member of the Rare Hunters.
"Best to do it now," he said, not angry with her stubbornness.
Diem moved the chair forward slightly and placed her hand on his as he cleaned the wound. He was remarkably quick and thorough, she was sure that he had some previous medical training. Which was odd because he looked like the type of person to put someone in the hospital, not help them make it out.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Odion Ishtar, second in command of the Rare Hunter organization. Of course I know your name, no need to make you continually introduce yourself," he said as he finished wrapping her hand in gauze.
"Why the special treatment?" Diem asked as she straightened her back in the chair.
"Courtesy of Master Marik, there are plans and priorities that must be protected until he is ready to reveal them. Care for a cigar?"Odion asked as with his hand on a box.
"No thanks, and what do you mean plans and priorities?" Diem asked.
"They will be revealed when Master Marik is ready, therefore I can say no more," Odion said.
Diem let it go, it was obvious that she could not swindle information out of someone like him. Odion clipped one end as he lit a match and began smoking.
"Why wasn't Marik here?" Diem asked, almost as if to make light conversation.
"Master Marik rarely does initiations. Besides he is no longer here, there is always business elsewhere," Odion said, leaning back and puffing on his cigar.
"I do not understand what is so important about all of this," Diem said.
"All will be revealed in time Miss Schlotfaz. Now go suit up, you will be a member of my unit until Al Jizah is fully controlled by the Rare Hunters," Odion said.
"For my protection?" Diem said sarcastically.
"You're a flight risk," Odion answered matter-of-factly.
"Oh like I haven't already figured out that I can't get out of this!" Diem said as she stormed out of the room.
Odion leaned further back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. 'Why is it always teenagers?' he mused.
End of Chapter 11
