*~ Lassitude ~*

Starring: Jack A.

Genre: Humor

Rating: K+

Time Setting: Tag Force 5

Directly Linked to: Echo

Prompted by: FamOOWL

Type: One-shot

This world was full of mysteries.

For starters, you would never be able to know where the wind was going to carry fluttering leaves which had parted from their branch. The same could be said to almost everything related to Dueling. You may bet your luck on a duelist whom you considered worthy, then left disappointed at the turns of event which resulted in his loss. In the end, nothing was ever certain.

Jack knew all that. His encounter with the Dark Signers had also taught him the same lesson, and he swore to never underestimate his opponents again after the incident with Carly, for possibilities were endless, and you would never be able to predict what time may reveal. But there was one thing that was constant in all these riddles: that there were things that men were not supposed to unravel; hidden truths that were determined to remain uncovered.

At the moment, cooking an omelet sky-rocketed to top the list.

For perhaps the tenth time, the former king flipped the white-and-yellow thing with a spatula, hoped that it would land back safely on the frying pan, and was rewarded with failure. The egg flew up from the pan and spluttered against the wall instead, creating an ugly left-over of a slimy trail on the white, spotless wall. Jack took a deep breath, resisting the urge to toss the cooking equipment's and utensils around him. More cleaning to do with no satisfying result to his 'training' then.

"How's it going?" a familiar voice called. A familiar voice Jack had associated with torment and anger-management trials.

Simon entered the kitchen with a dip of his head. The guy was a bulky, tan-skinned man whose height surpassed that even Jack's; and it was exactly because of his height that he always had to duck whenever he went through doors. Doors that were built for normal human beings anyway. Simon was out of the category. Jack had convinced himself of that after he watched how the guy could work with four frying pans all at once without having the food he was working on ruined.

Jack whirled reluctantly to meet Simon's eyes. He immediately regretted it. Simon had this amused expression on his face, his mouth curving up into an almost-sneer; his eyes crinkled as he stared at the mess Jack had created.

"The Mistress is not going to be pleased with this. She'd get cranky if she saw her kitchen in this state," he said very slowly as he tried to erase the sympathetic grin off his face.

Jack sent him a death-glare. "You don't seem to be that cranky about it," he said, venom in his voice.

"Sorry." Simon cleared his throat, the gesture serving more like a cover-up of a chuckle/laughter that was about to emerge from his mouth. "Well, Atlas, I must say that I am... quite impressed, that you haven't set this building on fire. But you might want to clean up the place before the Mistress and her chefs see what you've done."

"You're talking as if I've just blown up the kitchen," Jack muttered. He didn't want to acknowledge that it was partially true, of course. The place was, as Jeannine would put it, in one hell of a mess. Eggshells were scattered on the floor, there were trails of burnt eggs around the stove, and the walls were splotchy—from the failures he had unintentionally tossed to its smooth surface. Today's evening training session was going to drain more of his energy, especially the cleaning session.

Simon cast a glance to a clock hanging on the wall and smiled at Jack. "It's almost eleven, so I suppose it's enough for today. Judging from how this place looks, you still haven't been able to grasp the basics of cooking yet. I should say I'm rather pleased with your performance today, but I guess praises for your attempt on cooking should be held back until you can produce an edible omelet." Jack had made progress in every area except for cooking, and Simon was ordered by the cafe owner to drill him until he mastered everything about working at a cafe. (Though Jack suspected that these cooking trials would only increase his cleaning skills). The big man smiled wryly at his expression and added, "Don't look so gloomy. A progress is still a progress."

He had some good retorts to spit out, but chose to tie his tongue. There was no need to be sarcastic, especially when the guy was only trying to cheer him up. An attempt that always met a dead end. "Thanks," was all that Jack could think of as a reply. He paused and added, "I'll begin cleaning up now," before Simon could say more to wound his pride.

"Good. And oh yeah, maybe it will be too late for you to go home today, so you can borrow my room for tonight. I'm going to stay on a friend's bar, so I won't use it until tomorrow evening."

Jack frowned, still unsure of what to say. Was this a test? Was Simon trying to work him 'til morning without saying it out loud? For the Crimson Dragon's sake, the guy was a mystery. He may appear cheerful and friendly, but working around him for two weeks had taught Jack that the big man hid many things beneath that easy smile of his.

"Ah, and Satou is going to stay here for the night too. The Mistress has requested him to tidy up the place since tomorrow's a special day..."

The said person popped out at the kitchen's doorway only a second after, as though a mention of his name had prompted him to appear out of nowhere. "Huh, you guys are not done yet?" Osamu asked as he strode in. He stopped his in his tracks and stood very still, eyes widening as he took the sight of the kitchen. "Oh. Wow."

Simon folded his arms, white teeth flashing against the dark skin. "A pretty good artwork, huh? I'd say that our friend here has a genuine talent for decorating."

Jack snarled. "Shut the hell up, big guy. Just go already!"

Simon laughed as he turned to leave. "Yeah, yeah, I'll shut up and go away. Now make sure everything is clean as new when morning comes. We don't want to test the Mistress' patience. Don't forget to get the whole cafe dust-free by dawn," he said, waving them good-bye.

Osamu blinked at the disappearing Simon, then at Jack, then at the kitchen. "You're gonna have to pay me to help you cleaning up," he said with a blank look on his face.

Jack growled, letting his frustration finally show. "Charge that pink old hag or her loyal giant guardian." He paused to think. Jeannine wore pink from head to toe today... Or was it yellow? He couldn't remember so he quickly dismissed it. "I'm just doing my best to live up to their illogical expectations. You can't blame a worker for trying."

Osamu was already scanning the room for a mop. He made his way towards a cupboard and produced a white rag from a drawer. "At least you haven't burnt this place into ashes yet."

"You're the fourth person who said that to me."

"Am I?" The waiter rolled up his sleeves and began moping the nearest table. He stopped and looked up at the ticking clock. "Jeannine requested that everything is se before dawn. If we start working on the kitchen now, the job may take extra three or four hours with only the two of us," he mused aloud.

"Why should we do it all by ourselves?"

"You think the Mistress is the type to hire an emergency part-timer?"

With all the extra cost, no. That profit-freak wouldn't let a coin slip away from her clutch—wasting bucks on hiring part-timers wouldn't even occur to her if everything could still be managed by the staffs she had now. The question left was what would become of the staffs? Jack put a hand on his hip, skeptical. "Why is she not letting the girls help us with this? They can come earlier tomorrow, right?"

Osamu was already shaking his head. "Nah. They will be busy beautifying themselves." Must be a bunch of important guests, Jack thought with derision, if Jeannine was willing to spend some money on makeup kits and perfumes. Suddenly, he felt pity for the girls. They would surely be tormented by the old hag's manicured hands tomorrow.

Osamu seemed lost in thought for a moment, then he fished his cellphone from his pocket and start dialing.

"Who're you calling at this hour?"

"The only night owls I know who wouldn't turn down a friend's request in the middle of a night."

It took Jack two seconds to process what Osamu meant, and when he finally grasped his words, he snorted. "And what makes you think the old hag would let them help?" If he were the cafe owner, letting strangers into his home at midnight wouldn't appeal as the brightest idea.

"But—" Of course there was a 'but.' "This is Jeannine we're talking about," Osamu replied. "She'd be delighted at the prospect of having some extra hands. For free."

Indeed she would. "More people can't hurt, huh. Just make sure they—"

"Bruno." Osamu greeted the hologram of a young man with blue hair whose face was still scrunched from sleep. "Mind if I ask for a favor?"

"—park their Runners far away from the cafe," Jack finished as he turned to continue with his work. "Waking up Rainbow Grandma sounds very rude. She doesn't have much respect for Riding Duelists and we don't want to make it drop even more." If working with Jeannine had instilled in him some sense of precaution and increased his skill in psychological field, then his hunches that told him the said lady didn't fancy 'low street punks' much would be guaranteed. Jeannine wasn't one to deal with people she didn't respect with courtesy, and even with less patience should she know that there were strangers dwelling in her cafe. Dealing with an angry mother hen, a profit-freak pink-wigged mother hag—hen, he corrected himself—wasn't his brightest idea of an ideal morning should be. So he added, "Tell them to be prepared to run at lightning speed when I command them to."

xx - 5D's - xx

It turned out that tomorrow's special day was Valentine's Day, and that Simon had left a bunch of decor materials at the longue. A small note with a scrawny handwriting read: 'Lmost forgot to give u these. Make d place pretty, kay? –S.'

Clean and pretty equaled more work and less sleep. Thankfully, Yusei, Bruno and Crow had come earlier than they'd expected, and albeit a bit begrudgingly, they'd agreed to help. Crow, in particular, had been fuming when he'd heard what he had to go through. "Damn, this is gross!" the heavily marked duelist groaned. He was dealing with what even Osamu had avoided for quite some time: the expired food.

Crow took out a pack of meat that...well, didn't look edible/cookable anymore to put it simply. Smelling it from ten paces away already made Jack's insides do a violent somersault. He cursed the fact that Jeannine had an uncanny tendency, if not a sick hobby, to keep food until they were past their expiration dates. Simon had told everyone to always store leftover materials from the day's serving in the third fridge that was tucked in the corner of the kitchen. Jack had obliged, and so had everyone, but he never really had the chance or interest to see what was actually inside. Until he had to, which was now.

"Just be grateful they're not maggoty yet," Bruno mumbled as he walked past the fridge with a large garbage can, a putrid scent trailing on his wake like a cheap cologne. It was in dire need of washing after being used all day, and Jack was secretly grateful the mechanic had the naivety that any amnesiac youth would share. He hadn't asked a thing when Jack had ordered him to do the job.

"Gods, they stink," Crow muttered. He gathered what was still left inside the fridge with a wrinkled nose. "I'm seriously going to doubt the quality of the food they serve here."

Osamu, who was working on a set of colorful fabrications, spared Crow a pitiful glance. "The owner's generous when it comes into serving—"Treat customers as kings," is her motto. I can guarantee that we serve nothing but the best." He paused and gave the rotting materials Crow was working on a critical look. "But yeah, she's a Hitler when it comes into money."

"Try to work here for a day and see if you can stand her," Jack added.

"Thanks but no thanks," came the weak reply from Yusei. He was working on what Crow had not been able to throw out, and truth to be told, Jack was enjoying the dark look on his foster brother's face. If there was something that could irk Yusei's nerves, Jack was going to prize it. Call it a petty sense of rivalry, but enjoyment rarely came since his days as Jeanine's slave began.

The torment of working in the kitchen lasted for a full one hour that seemed to have stretched longer than it actually was. Crow was uncharacteristically silent throughout the ordeal, prompting the other boys to work seriously too—all in order to get out of the damned kitchen as fast as possible. By the time they had finished, the clock had already indicated that it was past two in the morning. The cafe would open at nine, which meant they didn't have much time to waste. If they wanted to get some sleep, of course.

Osamu retrieved a folded paper from a table when they had moved to work in the dining room. He read it for a full one minute before settling his eyes on the pile of materials in front of him. "All right, so we are supposed to use these," he said as he waved a hand toward the colorful fabrics, shiny plastic decorations, and heart-shaped toys, "to decorate the place. Make it full of love, as this note says." He rolled his eyes and tossed the paper to Jack.

Bruno was already inspecting the fabrics. "No specific instructions on how to lighten up the place?"

"Nope."

What an encouragement to use your creativity, Jack thought. Lazy giant. "How are we going to do it then? Anyone's here an expert in decorating cafes?"

"Hmm, I think I can already picture how the place will look like with these," said Bruno, his eyes scanning the whole room absently. For a second, the usually absent-minded-and-easy-going technician truly looked as if he was thinking of something that didn't involve some lame jokes and stupid cracks. He moved his finger from right to left, pointing at certain places and spots where his thoughts must be. "We can hang these things there, put those little things close to the bar, attract female customers by putting these colorful fabrics outside..."

"Okay, okay, you tell us what to do," Crow cut in with a helpless gesture of his hands.

As if ignited, Bruno's face lit up with enthusiasm, much like child being told that he could grab any toy he came across in a department store. He handed over the fabrics he was holding to Osamu, who looked equally baffled as Jack was. Bruno giving instructions outside of the field of machinery was both surprising and suspicious. "Try to hang these from that point, make it look like they're some sort of curtains. Crow, you can work with Jack to hang these hearts on the ceiling. Yusei—" he paused to snap his fingers at him. "Hey, man. Are you even listening to me?"

The Head Signer recovered from whatever trance that had seized his mind as he blinked in surprise. "Huh? Oh, you were talking? Did you hear that?"

"Hear what? Your mind falling apart or your stomach rumbling?" Crow sneered.

The crease between his eyebrows deepened. "No...that. That sound. It's like it's coming from upstairs."

Everyone traded glances with varying level of confusion in the brief silence the followed. Osamu shrugged. "Don't hear anything."

Just when Jack was opening his mouth to accuse Yusei of daydreaming, a screeching sound was audible. It was very soft and distant, but it was there; audible. The screeching sound stopped for a heartful second before it resounded again, and suddenly Jack felt that the lighting of the cafe was too dark and the stillness too suffocating.

Judging by the looks on everyone's faces, they must have heard it too. Yusei tilted his head in concentration. "Now did you hear that?"

Bruno closed his eyes for some seconds, trying to capture the soft sound better. "Yeah. And it's constant."

"I wonder what it is," Osamu mused aloud.

Crow, like a senseless, deaf mule he was, quirked an eyebrow and said, "I don't hear anything."

Jack took that as a cue that the short guy was in some need of a good knocking in the head. So he gave him one.

"Aw!" Crow protested, rubbing the back of his head where Jack had just smacked him on. "What was that for?"

Yusei sighed. "Quiet down, you two."

Again, the screeching sound got a bit louder, and it finally made the gang shut their mouths and frown. Osamu pointed his thumb upward, "Is it coming from the second floor?"

"What's in there?" asked Crow.

"The hag's working place, rooms for staffs, and a mini-storage area," Jack supplied. "The hag sleeps in the third floor." The cafe was practically her sanctuary, or more like her palace, he corrected himself. Everything went by her rules and standards, so yeah, it was practically her kingdom. Hags be damned. "I'm pretty sure it's just a cat or some sort of animal."

Bruno was already moving toward the staircase at the far back of the room. "Do you think there's a chance for a burglar to break in from the second floor?"

At the mention of the infamous profession, Yusei's head snapped up, seemingly on high alert now that his presence of mind had returned. "Burglar? Is there a porch up there?"

The possibility was low, given that Neo Domino had returned to its peaceful state, but it was there nonetheless. Jack thought for a moment, then said, "Well there are four, actually. Two on each level."

Crow's voice had strangely got thinner when he spoke. "You...sure you wanna check it out?" he asked to Bruno and Yusei.

The blue-haired man raised his eyebrows, nonchalant. "Why shouldn't we? We'll never know what it is until we check it, right?"

"Well, then let's." Jack put down the colorful straps and clothes he was holding and strode to Bruno's side. If something were to happen to the cafe, he wasn't sure that he and Osamu would live to see another day, much less to enter the World Tournament. At the foot of the staircase, he craned up his neck and tried to peer into the looming darkness. The second floor's lights was off. Had Simon left them off, or had someone turned them off on purpose? Slowly, he ascended the stairs.

Crow's whimper was swallowed by Yusei and Osamu's hushed voices, and soon, everyone followed him closely. The moment Jack's foot entered the second floor area, he stopped in his tracks. Someone bumped him from behind.

"Ouch." The voice was Bruno's. "Why did you stop so suddenly?"

The hallway may be devoid of light in the night, but Jack could clearly see that the door leading to the hag's working room was opened. He informed what he saw to everyone and they grew even more silent save for Crow's weak gulping. "We'll move to see," he said.

They tiptoed through the hallway until they were only two steps away from the opened door. True enough, the sound seemed to come from the room. Jack couldn't quite place it, but it sounded as if someone was screeching his nails on a wood board. He gave a signal to his friends with his hand that he would enter first and they were to follow soon. They nodded, and with an intake of breath, Jack lunged in.

"Who goes there?!" he yelled.

A squeak came in response. No...not a squeak. A...cat's strangled voice was more like it.

Suddenly, a small, ball of fur leapt onto his face. Reflexes made him skid to the left, and the fur thing ended up on Osamu's face instead. "Ow! Ow, ow, ow! Hell!" he roared as he moved frantically to smash down the thing. It didn't yield and kept on clawing at him.

Before anyone could react to the scene, a cold shower sprayed on Jack's unguarded back, hard and unrelenting. "Wha—?!"

A high-pitched voice he knew all too well followed the water attack: "Get out of my place you scoundrels!"

"Jeannine?!" Jack tried to look back to console the woman, but it only appeared to fuel the lady's anger even greater. She sloshed again, shook the fire extinguisher she was holding, and the powerful flow of water hit him straight in the face.

She sprayed the water to the rest of the boys too, all the while shouting, "Get out! Filthy burglars! Out of my sight!"

Osamu tried to defend himself by using his arms as a shield. "Wait, wait! Let us expl—"

His plea was cut with another attack from Jeannine, who had turned on the fire sprinkler which was now shooting arrows of water down on them. In the blinding water attack and semi-darkness, Jack was able to see her furious face—her furious face with white facial mask applied thickly on it—and cursed her for, perhaps, the hundredth time in life. "To think that you guys would cooperate with lowly criminals!" she shouted as she pumped the water again.

Jack tried to reach out to take out the fire extinguisher from her hands. "Old lady, quit it!"

But that move too seemed to be a mistake. Jeannine took that as an aggressive stimulus and let out a device from her pajamas' pocket with a snarl, the black thing was only the size of a man's hand. Jack had only a split second to realize what it was, and before he could scream to alert his comrades, electricity numbed his mind and body and darkness claimed him.

Damned be the person who invented the stun gun.