Chapter Three: Darkness Ascending
The heat was oppressive. It quashed even sound; the desert was quiet as death. The wind slithered over the dunes in silence. Field Team Alpha watched from their tents as grains of sand ribboned out in the gusts. The nights were cold as the grave.
The team head, in all his sandy, gritty glory, flopped the satellite phone to the side. "HQ isn't responding. Doctor Nelson isn't responding." He rubbed his face. It was too hot for him to even sweat. "We are stranded in this godforsaken desert."
They'd been working longer than Doctor Nelson and Field Team Beta, but hadn't found anything. News of a breakthrough from FTB had reinvigorated them for some time; they weren't on a wild goose chase, and the legends were true. Why wouldn't they find something? they had thought at the time.
They realized now the reasons were numerous. The landscape of three thousand years ago was, of course, much different than modern times, especially in a place where the harsh whipping sand eroded rock at an alarming rate.
Fortunately, they'd found rudimentary, but astoundingly accurate, starmaps. The time of the year had become just right; at night, they could look up at the twinkling sky and compare the map to it side-by-side.
So they should be close.
But… they found nothing. And now they'd lost contact with both KaibaCorp and Doctor Nelson, formerly of Field Team Beta. He was the best hieroglyphics translator the world had to offer, and now all they heard from him was static.
The team head sighed, adjusted his long, dark hair. Three thousand years was a long time to wait to find something purposefully lost. He tapped his flask on his knee.
All they could do now was dig and hope for the best.
That night, it was as if Lady Luck and all the ancient Egyptian gods combined smiled upon the team.
The vault, as Doctor Nelson came to call them, was nestled amongst a outcropping of ragged sandstone. It was so very far away from the Nile.
The team head surmised it to be some sort of ritual banishment.
The carvings decorating the walls were hardly refined in comparison to photos of the other vault. The images were dark, and not just in color. Horrific beasts crawled along the walls.
The team head felt a shiver go down his spine.
"Doctor Bakura!" another researcher called. "We've found something!"
The team head adjusted his glasses with one dirty finger. His breath huffed against his face mask. "Yes? What is it?"
He approached the huddle of his team mates. There was a small alcove. Upon the shelf inside, surrounded by what seemed to be a puddle of oil, was a golden ring. It was huge, easily seven inches in diameter. The actual metal tubing about two inches in diameter. Five cones of pure gold dangled from the belly. A triangle of gold sat on the top, firmly attached at all three vertices.
Doctor Bakura eyed the puddle suspiciously. "Be careful. I think it's booby trapped."
"Think it's supposed to catch fire?"
"Yes."
It took them a few more hours. The sun was breaching the horizon, lightened the sky from a dark, blackish navy to violets and reds. It would only be an hour before the desert was once again set ablaze with ungodly heat. The mechanism that once created a spark to set alight the oil, they had eventually found, was no longer operational. Still, they handled the situation with paranoid delicacy.
Before long, Doctor Bakura held the ring in gloved hands. It was arm-achingly heavy. Slowly, gingerly, he inspected it. His arms brushed one of the dangling cones. One-by-one, the fives cones knocked together.
The ring clicked. Pressurized air hissed.
Doctor Bakura yelped and dropped the ring onto the stone floor of the vault. He reeled back a step. Several sections of the outer ring expanded and withdrew, sliding over one another with amazing smoothness and technicality.
The ring was hollow.
Black sludge oozed out. It pooled around Doctor Bakura's boots. He knelt down and touched it. Even through the rubber glove, he could feel how damnably cold and damp the substance was. It clung to his finger, somehow both fibrous and liquid. He grimaced. It isn't oil.
Suddenly, it lashed out. Black tendrils wrapped around his hand with the threat of crushing force. He yelped again. It climbed up to his wrist and touched his bare skin. The black soaked into his flesh. He screamed, but the sludge disappeared as if it were never there in the first place.
He swayed on his feet. Black gnawed at the corners of his eyes. He heard dark, maniacal cackling.
Right before he went unconscious, he realized the laughter was his.
Yugi laid miserably on the floor of his room. The bed was too warm; the blankets even being just beneath him made him sweat profusely, even after he stripped himself down to his boxers. The carpet wasn't altogether too bad, if he periodically shifted to cooler spots.
The ice pack didn't help at all. Faced with his elevated body temperature, it melted quickly.
Joey had made him chicken soup at one point. It was unpleasantly hot, but he greedily devoured it, anyways.
Just the thought of food made his stomach rumble like an approaching supercell storm. Yugi crawled to the door and opened it. On his knees, he peeked down the hallway. The babbling of some D-grade sci-fi movie and Joey's loud snoring echoed down the short hallway. Yugi's palm touched the cool laminate flooring. He hummed brokenly and pressed his cheek to it.
His stomach rumbled.
He crawled into the hallway. Every couple of shuffles, he would press himself to the floor. His skin was so sweaty and hot, it fogged up the laminate. Eventually, he made it to the living room. Joey was sprawled on the couch, one leg over the armrest, the other dangling over the cushion to touch the floor. His mouth was wide open. A little bit of saliva slipped out of the corner of his mouth. A low-quality CGI monster chased women in bikinis on the television. Yugi slunk into the kitchen.
A hand of bananas sat on the counter (bananas that Yugi's grandfather had bought them, since the two young men were far too frugal). Yugi reached up and ripped one off.
He bit into it, peel and all. Within a minute, his hands were empty.
His stomach rumbled.
He crawled to the refrigerator. He yanked it open. He growled when the cool draft wafted around him. The rest of the soup Joey had made was in a small circular container on the middle shelf. Yugi snatched it and popped the lid off. He lifted it to his lips and gulped it down. Soup spilled over and trickled down the corner of his mouth.
The container empty, Yugi casted it to the side.
Cupcakes Tea had made. A dozen chocolate, icing-topped treats. Yugi ate them all. The little foil cups sat in a pile next to him. Leftover casserole. Yugi ate it all. A brick of cream cheese. Yugi ate it. A bag of taco cheese. Yugi ate it.
Before long, the fridge was all but barren.
The door swung shut. Yugi leaned back against the wall. He sighed and relaxed a bit. He felt less hot now. His stomach stopped aching for once.
He really liked cream cheese. He needed to get more of it. Like, a dozen or so bricks of it.
He hummed and stood to clean up his mess. The reality of the situation sat at the back of his mind, purposely avoided. He grabbed a change of clothes from his room and relegated himself to a shower to wash away the sweat of his fever. He let the water remain lukewarm, let the chill ease away the last of the unhealthy warmth. The water pounded loudly in the close of the shower. Wet splashes against tile echoed through the bathroom. Yet still, he heard,
"Yugi."
He jumped, yelping, embarrassingly high-pitched and effeminate. He tugged the curtain aside to look into the bathroom.
"Joey…?" he called, voice cracking. There was no answer. Suddenly cold and shivering, Yugi fumbled with the faucet to turn up the heat. Does he have the flu? Can that cause hallucinations?
He gulped, arms wrapped tight around his trembling torso.
He was just hearing things. When he still lived with his grandpa, it would happen all the time, thinking that the old man had been calling his name from downstairs. Maybe it was because he was too on-edge and stressed out.
He took a deep breath and rubbed his face tiredly.
He had promised his grandpa that he would visit after he got out of work. Work was nixed, so…
He was feeling better. He could go now.
Within the next half hour, he was tugging his jacket on. Joey was still sprawled out, asleep, on the couch. Yugi gently shook his shoulder. "Joey."
"Uhhhuah, wut?" he mumbled, and swatted Yugi's hand away.
"I'm going to see my grandfather, okay?"
"Thought… thought you sick, Yug'?" Joey said with a sleepy sigh. His eyes barely opened before they drooped shut.
"I ate and now I'm feeling a lot better. So, don't worry about me. I'm taking the subway."
"Uh, okay. Just be careful. A lot of scum hang out around the station. Trust me, I know," he said before he shifted onto his side and yanked the blanket off the back of the couch.
"I know you know," Yugi replied softly. Not so long ago, Joey was once one of those "scum." "And you know me, I'm always careful."
"Careful, my ass. You'll die from trippin' and fallin'."
"Okay, that's an exaggeration."
"Whatever. See ya." Joey shifted around a little bit and dozed off.
"See ya…" Yugi echoed.
He moved to the door and left.
It took a dozen different feeds to track it.
It jumped from a thirteenth story window and onto a rooftop fifty feet below. The cameras, state-of-the-art, showed in high resolution the creature's compound fracture, the red-stained bone jutting from shredded flesh and torn rubber. Still, it continued on, and it lunged from rooftop to rooftop for six blocks. Steadily, it weakened. Its loping decreased in speed and became more broken and shambling.
It hurtled over an alleyway, only to crash into a wall and collapse to the asphalt below.
Seto Kaiba switched cameras again.
It rested on the scattered trash for the barest second before it shakily stood up. The damage to the host was extensive, lethal if he did not receive immediate treatment.
At the other end of the alley, a silhouette appeared. A human. A young man. Kaiba's hand clenched on the mouse. A familiar young man. The young man cautiously picked his way through the alleyway. Kaiba's teeth ground together as the infrared captured the face of the parasite's next unwitting victim. The boy's face was concerned, then it warped into horror.
The beast lashed out, a black flurry. The tiny young man went flying into the wall on the other side of the alleyway. He fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes. The beast rushed upon him and lifted him by the throat. The black undulated around the wrist, slithered down the fingers, and dissipated into the boy's skin.
The former host dropped, keeled over to the side, discarded.
The boy rolled his shoulders beastially. His head twitched this way and that, bright bangs swaying and jerking. He stalked from the alleyway.
Kaiba slammed his laptop closed. One hand covered his face, his knuckles white.
Yugi Muto.
Seto had gone to high school with Yugi Muto! He'd recognize that wild hair anywhere.
He gritted his teeth.
Yugi waited patiently for the subway, his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans. His nose twitched, and he tried to breathe through slightly parted lips. Ugh, the stench down here was horrible today.
A crush of people also stood in waiting for the subterrestrial train. The shift of shoes on tile and stale, hot breaths in the close made his ears twinge. He shifted, suddenly aware of the sickly fluorescent lighting and the brush of his clothes on his skin.
He rubbed his forehead and sighed lightly through his mouth. Deep within the tunnel, the rumble and scream of the train echoed. It slowed and rattled and glided into the station.
People clustered out, people rushed in. Yugi managed to worm his way through, and, once inside, he was torn between sitting in a corner or standing away from everyone else. The sheer amount of humans inside the little metal tube made the decision for him; he stood near a door, wedged between innumerable people.
He gritted his teeth. With his short stature, he couldn't simply turn his head away from the people pressing in on all sides, away from the overwhelming scent, and the occasional stench, of his fellow citizens. He remained mindful of the weight of his phone and wallet in his pockets. It wouldn't be the first time he got pickpocketed on the subway.
At the next stop, the exchange of people occurred again. Yugi scrambled to take the short amount of time to find a better position. He found a seat by a window. When they surged into motion once again, the sickly lights of the subway tunnel streaked by feverishly in the glass. It made Yugi dizzy, so he looked out to all the people in the car.
On their phones, staring into space, living their lives.
He'd never felt so disconnected from the rest of the world.
"Yugi!" the forceful murmur pierced through his consciousness.
He gasped, whipped to the window.
A black monster, eyes red, teeth long and jagged, stared back.
He yelped and threw himself back, over the seat next to him and onto the floor.
His chest heaved with fright, and all the other commuters stared blankly, worriedly at him. He forced a sheepish smile and rubbed the back of his neck as he shakily stood back up. "Sorry…" His purple eyes blinked back from his reflection. He still wasn't looking like himself… but at least he wasn't seeing things at the moment.
Hearing things.
Seeing things.
"I'm going crazy," he mumbled to himself.
It was the perfect time to mentally crack. At least midterms were done already.
When they stopped again, Yugi hurried off. He eagerly left the station and climbed up the stairs. The cool fall air wafted down and helped brush some of the stale odor of the tunnels away. His phone buzzed in his pocket.
1 Missed Call: Grandpa (Sugoroku Muto)
He sighed. Grandpa tried to call him while he was in the cellular abyss of Domino City's subway system. He called back.
Ri-
"Yugi?" The old man immediately picked up.
"Hi, Grandpa."
"You didn't answer my call." Sugoroku's voice was raspy, but still surprisingly strong for his age. Now, it held a tone of playful sternness.
"I was in the subway, Grandpa. There isn't any cell service down there."
"Does that mean you're going to be visiting me?"
"Yes, Grandpa."
"I was going to tell you to stay home. Joey called and told me that you were sick."
"I'm feeling better now," Yugi insisted. Physically, yes, he was feeling much better. Psychologically…? Not so much. "And when did Joey call you?"
"Earlier this morning." Joey could be surprisingly thoughtful in spite of his forgetfulness. "I didn't call you right away because I figured you needed to get your rest."
"You could've called me. I didn't end up getting any sleep." But he did manage to eat an alarming amount of food, so… at least he was a little productive…?
"That's not good."
"Well, I'm gonna hang up, Grandpa. I don't like talking on the phone and walking. Especially in this city. I'll see you in a few minutes, okay?"
"Okay, Yugi. Be careful."
The others were resting, hidden in their tents and away from the scorching sun, when Doctor Bakura finally emerged from the vault. His assistant watched with furrowed brows as the doctor extended his arms and basked in the sun. His unsettling laughter floated like the heatwaves over the dunes.
"Where's the ring?" the assistant asked.
A smirk, sharp and wide, uncharacteristic for the soft-spoken archeologist, split his face. "That piece of trash? I left it in that forsaken hole."
"What?" the assistant wearily asked. He wondered if the heat was finally going to someone's head. His, or Doctor Bakura's, he wasn't sure.
"I'm… hungry now."
"Then eat. Not too much, though. You know we're getting low on provisions."
A low, rumbling chuckle purred in Doctor Bakura's throat. "Oh, don't worry...
"... I won't be needing those."
END PART
Hey, I just wanted to address something real quick. As you've noticed, I've used the English names for most of the characters, except for Yugi's grandfather. It just doesn't make sense to me that he would have an English name at all. Ever. Yugi Muto is a Japanese name. In most cultures, including Japanese culture, the family name is inherited from the father, who inherited it from his father. We know that Sugoroku is Yugi's paternal grandfather. So he inherited "Muto" from Sugoroku (duh, but yeah). The likelihood of a Japanese (or, Japanese-American, in this case) person of Sugoroku's age having a Japanese family name but not a Japanese given name is fairly low. Especially factoring in the fact that Yugi's given name is Japanese; they obviously, as a family, retained some of their Japanese culture. Point made…? For the most part…?
Anyway, hope you enjoyed the story so far! It's probably moving a little slower than you guys want, but I promise we are going to get into some nice action sequences in the upcoming chapters!