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Chapter 12: You Again
Akira spat out his coffee when he recognized Katsuya. The stripper's the duelist? Jounochi Katsuya was the trash at the club? He barely had time to wipe it up before the kid pulled the door open.
"Hi, Domino High, please, thanks."
Akira smiled into the rear-view, composing himself. These little moments were few and far between, after all, and this was not a good time to blow it. The spectacle at Kaiba's house had been bad enough. He savored it as long as he could. Pulling out into the street, he kept the teenage boy's reflection in his peripheral vision and sped up to five miles over, heading towards the center of the city. The cab was running smooth. He'd gotten it rather last minute. It had been expensive, but the fact that the organization had been able to point him toward it at all had been luck. His cousin had given him his name as a means of asking a favor. He had never dealt with them before.
"You new?" The kid was talking to him.
"Excuse me?"
"Well, the car service ain't ever sent you before, so..."
"Oh, yes sir, I'm new."
"Oh." Katsuya settled back into the seats and sighed. "Thought so. Your cab even smells new. Is it new?"
Akira kept his tone light. "I put some work into it, but it's not fresh from the dealer, no." Fresh from the chop shop was more accurate.
If Seto Kaiba thinks that confrontation is the extent of my plan, he's mistaken.
He made a left and kept the speed steady.
Akira was not a stupid man. After completing an apprenticeship at a rival corporation, he'd come to Delicorp and climbed up to the title of Chief Operating Officer of the Studio division, a team of artists and concept developers. He'd began as an artist, but a naturally competitive spirit had carried him into the big leagues. It was a small company, just a subdivision of a subdivision, really, but it was his and he was proud of it. He'd not been questioned when he'd asked the CEO to be made one of the external representatives being sent to Kaiba Corp. Since Kaiba had a heavy hand in the company's conceptual and artistic development himself, it was understood that the two would need to be introduced.
Saki, a Senior Vice President and highest-up on the rep team, had asked him about Kaiba before they had left. "You ever heard of him before, this Seto Kaiba? He's the world's scariest seventeen-year old, they say." He'd grinned in that lopsided, sincere way of his. Akira was a little disconcerted by it, then and now.
Had I heard of him. He shook his head slightly, remembering. He had heard, or rather, seen, Seto Kaiba for the first time some three years ago. He'd been twenty-two, then. A charity dinner that Gozaburo had taken his heir along for, that Akira himself had been allowed to attend as a replacement for the Director's P.A. She had called in sick with food poisoning, complete with retching sounds that were too realistic to ignore. He'd remembered seeing the fourteen-year-old Seto Kaiba a pace behind the intimidating figure of the former CEO, looking for all the world as composed as a lamb in a field. The director had pointed Gozaburo Kaiba out to him. "His company is always in the top twenty in the annuals. Military something, weapons production, maybe. Dozens of subs and affiliates. He comes to a lot of these things, they say, trying to improve his image."
"Who's the boy?" He remembered noticing how tall he was for such a young age, how deep his eyes.
"Adopted son. You don't want to know what they say about that."
He had, though, and he'd found out, from the secretaries and mail roomers, the ones with friends in other offices. They'd known some things, and he had slowly and carefully traced a thin line of networking into some of Gozaburo's hired help. No one big, household and delivery people mainly, but they heard rumors. He'd pieced together enough to be horrified and enthralled by the stories, with the exceptional young subject.
"Hey, what street is this? Is this a short-cut or something?" Akira glanced over his shoulder into the backseat. Katsuya looked curious, but not suspicious.
"Yeah, a short-cut. We're be there in no time, you'll see."
His interest in Seto Kaiba had been mounting for years. He'd clipped out news articles, subscribed to company mailing lists for any tiny tidbit that might surface. When Gozaburo had taken a swan dive to the pavement nearly a year and half ago, leaving Seto free to pursue a career in (surprise!) the gaming industry, he'd been convinced it was meant to be. He didn't believe in love at first sight, but this was different; he'd been getting to know the young Kaiba heir for a long time. Eight years' age difference seemed a petty thing to be hung up on in the face of serendipity. He'd set up a network of sorts, trying to gently stage some type of collaboration between Kaiba Corporation and Delicorp, staying behind the scenes and watching his opportunity slowly present itself. A man on the perimeter guard of the Kaiba estate had proved not adverse to accepting compensation for a report of the master's agenda, a fact Akira had uncovered on the day of his arrival in Domino.
He'd heard that Kaiba had gone out to an unknown destination three nights in a row the previous weekend, and that on Sunday night, he had returned with company. The guardsman didn't see a face, just a mop of blond hair and a short skirt, plaid like some of the high school uniforms you saw around. It was a good enough description for Akira. Who could blame Kaiba, after all? Such pressure he was under, and what easier way to alleviate the stress than a good old-fashioned romp with a cheap thrill?
He'd tried the direct approach, and now it was time to play hardball. The tart had to go.
"You look familiar," he told Katsuya, breaking the long silence.
"Oh yeah? Where would I know you from?"
"You know, I think it was a business thing."
"A business thing?" His fare looked doubtful.
"Yeah. A business thing." He smiled in what was meant to be a casual way, but Katsuya shivered. There was something infinitely... creepy... about it. He felt like he'd been in this cab for too long. He looked around and felt the first twinge of alarm.
"Well, I'm not exactly whatchya'd call a "business man," so I think maybe it was someone else."
"No, it was you. You have a job. Not a suit and tie job, but a job, right?"
Katsuya looked out the window again. "When did we get on the highway?" Akira didn't respond. "What the hell is going on?" he continued. Nothing but a twitch that may have been a repressed smile. Louder, he persisted. "Where are we going, man? What the fuck do you know about my job?" Blood beat in his ears as Katsuya felt the familiar rising of his temper quicken his pulse and lighten his head. The driver spoke at last.
"I didn't really see you close up, or get your name. I had no idea you were the one from Duelist Kingdom."
"And Battle City," Katsuya snapped, "and you need to answer my questions."
"Not that this matters," he continued as if not interrupted. "Clearly it wasn't enough to pay the bills, eh? Ah, we're almost there."
"Almost where!"
Akira's eyes narrowed as he signaled to exit. "You talk a lot."
"Fuck you, guy."
"Hmm."
"What the fuck is going on!" he exploded, slamming his fist into the headrest in front of him.
"I want to know what you want with Seto Kaiba."
The statement was like a bucket of ice water. Shock blotted out rage. "Who are you?" he asked, sounding much calmer than he felt.
"He didn't send me, if that's what you're hoping."
"You got a bone to pick with him or something?"
"What makes you think that's why I ask?" They were west of Domino, out in the fields, heading well outside the city limits at high speed.
"Wouldn't be the first time that asshole got me into some crazy problem, I guess. You gonna try and chop me into pieces, or what, 'cause we can go right now. Pull over, man, let's get this done."
Akira laughed, despite himself. "You're an honest firecracker, you. I'll bet you were a good... time."
"That's it! Pull over, man! Say that to my face, pull over and say it to may face! Do it! NOW!"
He looks furious, his ears are all red. "Calm down, silver medal. We're almost there."
"You've already said that," Katsuya growled. He was making a turn, though, into what looked to Katsuya very much like an empty lot. It was an acre, an acre and a half, tops. He stalled the car and got out, walking in a straight line towards... Katsuya could not see. He motioned for him to follow, and Katsuya, seeing no alternative, did so ungracefully.
When they had gained the approximate middle of the swatch of land, Akira turned and addressed him.
"I'm a little sorry to do this."
Katsuya's head blossomed with pain, and he felt himself falling as if from far away. He felt the rough ground under him, blinked ferociously to clear the stars from his eyes. He rolled onto his side only to be delivered a swift kick in the ribs. He gritted his teeth and took a slow breath. There was pain, but not the stabbing, punctured-lung kind.
"What do you want with Seto Kaiba?"
"Nothing that makes this worthwhile, believe me." He almost believed it, and this idiot was going to need to work harder for information than that. He tried opening his eyes, and he was relieved to see that they were focusing. When he saw the two men standing above him, dressed in black and looking like the hired thugs they were, his relief evaporated. He turned his head and saw that another car had parked behind the 'cab.' These goons had crept up behind him and clocked him. Cowards. "Look, what's it worth to ya? I do need to get to school, you know." He grunted as a goon-knee settled into the crook of his neck.
"It's funny, it makes more sense knowing that you knew him before that night at the club. I'll bet he was so surprised, seeing his schoolmate and disfavored competitor straddling him for money." There was some scuffling, and the second man bloodied Katsuya's lip for the trouble. He made no progress in getting to his feet. Ah, fuck, Kaiba, what have you gotten me into now?
Akira called the guys off, and Katsuya scrambled up to stand, swaying only a little bit. "He's gonna..." He raised a hand to wipe blood from his chin, not wincing when he brushed his lip even though the pain in his head was like a heavy bolt lodged there. He tried to stand more firmly on his feet. He cleared his throat weakly and spoke again, lifted his chin as he strained to keep it steady. "Kaiba's gonna have you killed when he finds out about this."
"You think so, you glorified prostitute?" Katsuya lunged, but one of the goons sidestepped him and brandished a knife of moderate size. He backed off, scowling.
"Yeah, I do."
"I don't. I think you're not even going to tell him. I think you should avoid him from now own, actually."
"You're nuts. What's wrong with you?" Akira advanced, and Katsuya felt the same unease he'd felt when Akira had first smiled at him when he saw the look in his eyes. He leered at him, leaning in close enough for Katsuya to smell his breath. He was so still, this crazy man, and Katsuya felt something akin to revulsion.
"Nothing is wrong with me. I simply think it is worth the trouble, you see. I think he is worth the trouble. I think you are disposable. I think he must see this, and if he does not, I can help him see. I can dig up everything you're ever done, even if you are a virtual nobody, for the right price. It would not be difficult."
Katsuya started to laugh. He couldn't help it. He had always thought Seto himself was crazy, but this guy should have come with a warning label and a straitjacket. "You... He... knows. Everything about me already. He has known since... Who knows?" He kept getting dizzy. He wondered if he had a concussion. That would be inconvenient, indeed. He shook himself and pressed on. "This is stupid of you, I mean. He doesn't like an opponent who tries to sneak around."
Akira paused, briefly. "I don't think you need to bother forming any opinions about the way he thinks. I am telling you to leave off of him, permanently, as of right now. I want you to have nothing to do with him. You will dirty him with your tragic mediocrity. If you will not desist, I will strike out against you further." He placed a hand on Katsuya's shoulder, and the henchmen grabbed his arms to hold him in place when he swatted at it. "You'd rather not see me again, right?"
He brought his leg up deftly and planted the toe of his shoe in Katsuya's groin, and he sagged against his captors' grip. They dropped him and he hit the ground. He heard their footsteps as they went back to their cars, but by the time they had started their engines, he was no longer conscious.
