Author's Note: Retooled, v. 4.11. SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT, ppl!! I've got 9 done too and 10 is half finished!!!
Updates again tomorrow!! After I re-html it!! THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT!
Chapter Eight - The Danger-Prone and the Wheelchair-Bound
Mai fidgeted in her seat. Really, these in-flight movies got worse and worse. Even
though she had her choice, it came down to "Down to You" and "Mission to Mars."
Disgusted, she turned off her private screen.
"Not one for conventional entertainment, are you?" asked the man next to her.
Mai found herself blushing. "No, not really."
"I didn't think so. Suppose you could give me a hand?"
"A hand?" Mai wondered out loud.
"Lift up my left leg for me."
"What?!!"
"Like this. Put your hand here on my thigh..."
Mai choked back a scream. "Listen here, you! I'm not some cheap floozy here to
service you. Just because you gave me this seat doesn't mean that I'm going to put my
hands on your...ugh!" She shuddered.
"Well, how else am I to get into my chair?" he protested, gesturing to the
wheelchair that the red haired stewardess was rolling up the aisle.
Mai nearly fainted of embarrassment. Of course, the man was handicapped!
That's why she was supposed to have been moved from first class--these were
handicapped athletes on their way to participate in the Boston Marathon.
"It's okay," he said, flashing her a big, 'I'm smiling to be polite' grin. "I should
have mentioned."
Before Mai had time to make some pathetic excuses, the curtains to coach class
flew open and a woman burst through, barely able to contain her anger.
"ARGH!" she shouted, oblivious to Mai and her seatmate.
"Debbie, what's wrong?" asked the redhead, jerking back the chair and letting the
man fall to the ground with an 'oof'. Mai started as she noticed him kick his leg out as he
fell. Crippled people couldn't do that, could they?
"It's those...kids," Debra snarled, clawing the back of Mai's seatmate's headrest,
shaking with anger like she was the only person in first class.
"A flight attendant is supposed to know how to deal with children," said Mai,
struggling to help the well-muscled man get into his chair.
"Need a drink, girlfriend?" asked the redhead.
"I would love one," Mai grumbled.
"Little help, here?"
Debra poured herself a shot from the first class drink cart's bottle of Jack Daniel's
and downed it in a gulp.
"I'm telling you," she groaned, wiping the excess from her lips. "I've never seen
such impossible punks before. The one of them actually ran around during takeoff. The
whole of coach class was screaming, thinking he was a terrorist."
Mai snickered. That sounded like something that Jounouchi would do. In truth,
her new 'friends' from the Duelist Kingdom hadn't been far from her mind ever since
they'd parted ways.
"That's silly. There are no terrorists on this flight," said the man, adjusting himself
in his chair.
"Only holy terrors," said Debra, pouring another shot which her friend took away.
"And these aren't little children, either. I'd say they're all at least fifteen--even the short
little one with two-tone vertical hair syndrome and yellow bangs."
Mai snatched the shotglass away from the redhead, suddenly desperately needing
it. Only one person she'd ever met fit that description. Of course, that's not to say it wasn't
a person she hadn't met. Mai entered what is known as "denial," gracefully, with only two
more shots.
'Seems like blondie here may have had prior experience with these nutjobs,'
thought Debra. She looked around at the staring faces of the other first-class passengers,
and at the man in the wheelchair, impatiently drumming his fingers on the armrest.
"Oh!" she said, resuming her normal demeanor. "I'm sorry. Would anyone like a
drink? Hot towel? Christine, take this man to the bathroom, would you?"
"I'm on it," said the redhead.
Well, this flight was bizarre, to say the least. Mai slumped back down into her
seat, shaking off the buzz. She just wanted to get back into her novel, and rest, and take it
easy.
"So, Yugi," Anzu began, removing her headphones. "Are you enjoying the movie,
or would you rather talk?"
"Huh? Hang on, I have headphones--" Yugi lifted them off. "What is it, Anzu?"
Anzu sighed, absently twisting the headphone cord between her fingers. "I was
just thinking. What if this isn't an ordinary tournament? I get the feeling like something's
not right here. Why go to all this trouble just for some little card game?"
"Anzu, you know it's not just a card game," said Yugi, smiling up at her. He had
enough space in his seat to sit cross-legged in it, and his deck was in his lap. "Besides, we
didn't get any threats or warnings, and no one's heard from Pegasus since we defeated
him."
'Easy for you to say, you weren't locked in a box and carried off by your history
teacher,' she thought. "But what if it's connected somehow to our last adventure? Things
with us always turn out to be more important than they seemed, and didn't you say you
found cards in the house before it blew up?"
"Oh, thanks for the reminder!" Yugi exclaimed, pulling the mystery deck out
from his bag. He hadn't even thought about it more than to throw it in with his luggage
when he packed. "I need to have a look through this. It must belong to someone."
"But..." Anzu started again, this time giving up. Yugi had his cards. He wouldn't
be paying attention to her.
"Hey," he said. "It'll be like a vacation. We'll get to see...um...whatever there is in
this part of America."
"You're as bad as Jou," Anzu laughed.
"Well, there's the Boston Marathon!" Yugi offered.
"The Boston Marathon? But I thought they already ran that back in April!"
Yugi shook his head. "Don't you remember? The security guards told us that there
were handicapped athletes on this plane going to run--er, wheel--er, participate in the
Boston Marathon. That's why we got moved out of first class--weren't you listening?"
Anzu blushed. "Well...Jou was making faces at me!"
Yugi made a face at her. "You should try paying attention sometime," he teased.
She poked him in the arm. Was this really shy little Yugi teasing her? If he was
coming out of his shell, he picked the right time to do it, because she had a bad feeling
about this tournament, and a very bad feeling about this flight. She was sure that that race
had already been run.
"Let's just watch the movies," said Anzu.
"Okay," said Yugi. "We can talk about your paranoia later."
"Hey!" she protested.
//So, you're learning,// laughed Yami. Yugi turned red and retreated into his
headphones, turning the volume up to maximum.
Mai's seatmate returned to his seat, finding her asleep and leaning on the window.
She looked pretty like that.
"Too bad she has to die!" he laughed.
"What was that?" asked the redheaded stewardess.
"I said, there's something in my eye. Hand me a kleenex?"
*
Anzu yawned and stretched as the second in-flight movie, Deuce Bigalow, Male
Gigolo, drew to a close.
"I second that," said Bakura, also yawning.
Jou choked down his twelfth bag of airline cracker jack. This stuff was so
yummy. So addictive. Crunch. Chomp. "No way, the movie's over! We still have six
more hours to go!"
"What are we going to do now?" Honda moaned. "Of course, if someone hadn't
flushed my GBA batteries down the toilet..."
"Aa, be quiet," Jou groused, elbowing Honda in the ribs.
"Should someone be sitting between them?" asked Yugi.
"Don't look at me," said Anzu.
"Oh, no, I wasn't thinking of you, Anzu," said Yugi, blushing.
"And don't look at me either! It's bad enough I have sit with them," said Bakura.
"What, does Jou smell too nice for ya?" Honda asked.
"AGAIN with the perfume jokes. I still haven't gotten you back for the last one!"
"What one was that?" Bakura asked innocently.
"When I sprayed rose perfume all over myself!" Jou snapped.
"What was that? I don't think I heard you," said Honda.
"I said, when I sprayed rose perfume all over myself!"
"Eh?" Bakura asked, cupping a hand over his ear.
"WHEN I SPRAYED ROSE PERFUME ALL OVER MYSELF AND
SMELLED ALL GIRLY AND I HAD TO TAKE FIVE SHOWERS TO GET RID OF
THE SMELL!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, shaking, fists clenched in anger.
The other passengers snickered, pulling up the shades on their windows.
"Wait a second..."
Bakura and Honda were laughing so hard they were about to fall from their seats.
"All right, wiseasses. You got me again, but I still flushed yer batteries. So what
ya gonna do now, eh?"
"Beats me," said Bakura.
"Hey, I know. I'll borrow the batteries from your discman!" said Honda, reaching
for Jou's bag.
"No way! My batteries!"
"Guys, calm down! Maybe we should all try getting some sleep, like everyone
else," Anzu suggested.
"Sounds boring," said Jou.
"Yeah," agreed Honda. "Jou's so full of sugar, I'll bet he wouldn't last five
minutes."
"Wanna bet?!"
"I just did!"
"You're on! Sleeping contest, the loser is the one who wakes up first." Jou pulled
the tiny airline pillow out from under his seat and placed it behind his head, looking very
smug.
"This sounds like the right game for me," said Anzu.
"Finally, some rest," Bakura sighed, along with the rest of the harried passengers
in coach. The five friends closed their eyes, and on Jou's count of three, fell asleep.
...
......
........
....one hour later....
*ZZZZZNORRKKKZZZHHHONK*
"Dear lord," sighed Debra the stewardess. "Restrain me."
"What the hell is that?" snapped the obese woman.
"Someone needs their inhaler," grumbled a man sitting behind her.
"Two someones," muttered a kid three rows back.
"It's as though they're fighting to see who's the most annoying," added an old
lady.
Debra scowled, wheeling her drink cart slowly to the back. Why couldn't this
plane have three classes, like the rest of the 777s? There was never a problem when she
was assigned to buisness class. Never like this.
"Hey, lady, get those kids to shut up!"
She smiled her sugary flight attendant smile and inwardly told him to shove his
evian where the sun doesn't shine.
*ZZZZZZZZSSSSNORFFFFFF*
Yugi opened one eyelid.
"What's going on?" he wondered aloud, looking around the back of his seat
toward--
"Jounouchi! Breathe through your mouth!"
With that Honda let out a loud, rattling snort.
"Huh?" Anzu mumbled, stretching. "Yugi? What's happening?"
"No one's getting any sleep!" someone snapped at her from across the aisle.
"I should have known this would happen," Yugi sighed.
Bakura had his hands over his ears. "Did you say something, Yugi?"
Jou and Honda let out honking snores at the same time. Someone threw a pillow.
Someone else threw an apple core, which landed on Bakura.
"All right, kids, this has gone too far," said Debra. "I'm afraid we're going to have
to separate you. It's a good thing there are empty seats--are you listening to me?!"
*SNRRRRRRRRKKKKKZZZ*
Bakura elbowed Honda. "Wake up!"
"Huh? What? Bakura, I was winning!!"
Debra rolled her eyes and pulled an ice cube from her drink cart. She held up her
hand and dropped it, right onto Jou's lap.
"AHHH! COLD!" Jou shouted, jumping up from his chair before being pulled
right back down by the seatbelt.
"Sorry," Debra giggled. "My hand slipped. Would you like a cold drink with your
new seat assignment?"
"No, but I'll take some more of that cracker jack. I'm starved!" Jou winked.
"New seat assignment?" Honda asked.
"What for?" Jou demanded. "We were sleeping peacefully!"
Another person threw a pillow.
"That's it, get up! You with the blond hair, to row 20, with the brown hair in a
spike, to row 32. With white hair, stay where you are. Move!"
"Yes, ma'am!"
The red haired flight attendant peeked through the curtain back into coach class,
shaking with laughter.
"Hm? What's going on back there?" asked Mai.
The flight attendant pulled the curtain closed sharply.
"Nothing," she replied, gathering her composure. "Can I get you another drink? A
magazine?"
"No, thank you," Mai replied, settling back into her seat. She was sure she'd heard
horrible noises coming from coach class. She smoothed out the wrinkles in her pants and
took out her novel. It must have been her imagination.
*
Mrs. Toshira sat, bare ankles crossed elegantly, on a stool in one of Boston's
many Starbucks' Coffees. It was early in the morning; there were many customers,
rushing in for their java fix before the rat race. Absently she twirled a swizzle stick in her
mocha latte, her hair hanging down over her eyes. So far, things had been going well
enough. While her flunkies had failed to capture the girl, it really didn't matter to her. The
only unfortunate bits of news had already hit her, and their effects had faded. So her
"friend" Anna had vanished, and the authorities searching the gutted house had figured
out that it wasn't an accident. Big deal. At least she'd gotten rid of that pesky husband of
hers. He was probably the one who tipped the girl off. Well, good riddance to him.
The best part of all of it was that, even though the tournament was slated to start
tomorrow, she still hadn't seen her boss yet. This meant she could enjoy the city life for a
while before retreating to the land of country inns and farm boys. She still didn't
understand the boss's insistance on hosting the tournament so far north of civilization. It
was probably similar to Pegasus's reasons for the Duelist Kingdom--the terrain, the
freedom, the total control over the every move of the participants. But personally, she
would have preferred the Arizona desert, if the plan was to leave the participants to get
eaten by the scenery. The buzzards could have them. Or even the Florida Everglades--alligators, capabera, mosquitoes the size of chihuahuas--any one of those things could
take out Yugi Mutou, once she and her boss figured out how he had become so powerful.
Mrs. Toshira sighed.
'I guess even my dear friend the boss has emotional ties to home,' she thought,
lapping up a bit of frothed milk from the edge of the cardboard cup. Her deep red-brown
lipstick stained it, and she pressed her lips together to even the shade.
Someone's cell phone was ringing. Mrs. Toshira realized it was hers.
"Des Fleurs," she purred, using her porn star surname.
"You failed me," came the reply.
She'd been dreading this moment. "It was your pet cab driver who ran away
scared before the delivery could be made," she snapped, swirling the drink violently. "Or
did he not share that detail with you?"
"I put you in charge. Did you forget about that?"
"Not for a second," she responded, biting her lip as her latte toppled, hot foam
spilling onto the counter. "Shit. Clean that up, will you?" she barked at one of the
employees.
"What was that?"
"Nothing important. So did you call me to chew me out, or is there something that
I need to know?"
"You were supposed to have arrived at the Bed and Breakfast last night. Emily
was worried about you."
"Your innkeeper can handle a crowd of children on her own without me."
"Is that so? In that case, remind me again why I keep you around."
Mrs. Toshira strode out of the Starbucks, dabbing at a coffee stain on her white
jacket. Seeing that it wasn't coming off, she tossed the jacket into a garbage can and kept
walking. She didn't say a word, knowing full well that her boss had reasons, or she'd be
dead right now. Dead like that guard of Pegasus's. She snickered, thinking of how easily
Panik had dispatched him into the afterlife. Such strength--he deserved his name. The
thought made her grin.
"Panik's here. But I think I will keep him with me for a while. Once you get your
act together, I'll let him know where to find you."
"Why, you..." Mrs. Toshira grumbled.
"That's funny, I thought he was your stooge, and nothing more. Or shall I tell
Hiro who's been creeping 'round the kudzu?"
"Mr. Toshira is not a factor any more," she replied coolly.
"That's not what I heard. But then--how should I know? In my sheltered little
world..."
The raven-haired woman rolled her eyes. Her boss loved toying with people, and
she was not exempt.
"I'll get to the point, Violette. You're to get up to the B&B by three. And
remember, it's never too late to get the job done."
"I'll keep that in mind," Mrs. Violette Des Fleurs Toshira replied.
"Don't fail me again, Vio. And--watch out for the horses."
Her cell phone beeped: End of call. Duration 05:13. Violette snapped it shut and
tucked it into her purse. She took a step off the curb--and into a pile of manure, left by
one of the city's many horse-drawn tourist carriages.
Vio let out a string of curses before stomping off in the direction of the nearest
MTA subway station.
*
Bakura stretched his feet out across the three seats. With those two gone, he could
relax and tend to his bruises. That attack two days ago had left quite a mark on the crown
of his head, which showed, sickly green, through his soft white hair. For that reason he'd
taken to wearing a hat, which made his head itch and his forehead sweat. He didn't want
to even begin thinking about his sinuses. That closet had been unbelievably dusty.
It wasn't fair. Just as the two biggest headaches in his life got reseated, he felt a
migraine coming on.
"Lousy stewardess. Stupid Honda. Bakura the jerk," Jou muttered angrily.
He sat down in his new seat, next to a sleeping elderly woman. Well, to Jou,
anyone over 25 was elderly. This woman looked to be in her fifties somewhere, and she
was just a little bit too big for her seat. Her enormous purse sat open in her lap, and on
her tray and the tray in front of him, most of the contents had been arranged. Jou noticed
money (which quickly became his, until he thought better of it), makeup, bits of food,
breath mints, and any number of varieties of pills. The ones in the bottles were out of the
question--they had childproof caps, thus thwarting any attempts at examination. But
some bottles were open, and Jou made it his buisness to investigate.
"Uggghh...ohhh..." Bakura moaned, holding his head in his hands.
"Bakura, are you okay?" Anzu asked, looking around her seat back at the teen.
"My head..."
"If you're going to be sick, use the bag," offered Debra. She had boxed herself in
by putting Jou forward and Honda back, so she had taken a seat nearby.
"No...I just have a headache," he moaned. "Doesn't anyone have an aspirin?
Anyone?"
"Does anyone have an aspirin?" Yugi shouted, making Bakura wince in pain.
"Huh?" Jou looked around. "Yug', ya need it, I got it right here!"
"It's for Bakura," Yugi shouted back to him.
Jou scanned through the mountains of pills, one open bottle catching his eye. It
sat atop its own brochure, which loudly announced:
"I said yes to HRT! PREMPRO (r) estrogen replacement tablets took care of my
menopausal symptoms! Say goodbye to hot flashes, ladies!"
"I'll go get it," offered Debra.
While he understood maybe half those words, Jou knew that in one of those little
pink tablets lay the sweetest revenge. He rubbed his hands together with glee, and picked
one up, handing it to the flight attendant. "With my fondest regards," he said to her.
'This doesn't look like any aspirin I've ever had before,' thought Bakura, before
swallowing the PREMPRO (r) with a swig of water.
Jou never laughed harder. He hardly even noticed the flight attendant standing
over him, reading the brochure in his hand.
"You didn't just give that boy..." she started.
"What," Jou laughed. "Sorry, I guess you needed it more."
"WHY YOU..." she growled, and stormed past him into first class.
"What was that all about?" Anzu wondered aloud.
*
"Yoo-hoo, stewardess," Mai called. "I'd like another pillow. This one isn't fluffy
enough."
No response. Mai was starting to get frustrated. After all, her seatmate was
napping; she'd like to rest, too. And for that she needed another pillow.
"Stewardess!"
At that moment Debra barged through the curtains.
"Ah, there you are," Mai cooed. "I need another pillow, please. This one is
lumpy."
Debra said nothing, merely went straight for the drink cart.
"Excuse me, I'd like a pillow."
The stewardess turned her head around in a manner reminiscent of the child in
The Exorcist. She let out a growl.
Mai squeaked, retreating for a minute before regaining her composure.
"Hmph!" she grunted, climbing across her sleeping seatmate into the aisle. She
snarled at Debra one final time before storming into the bathroom. It was enough to be
denied the basic amenities which one expects on a first class flight, but to be outright
ignored? Disgraceful.
But her anger was only half her reason for storming into that tiny, smelly
compartment that passed as Intercontinental's excuse for a 777 bathroom. She really
shouldn't have had that whiskey on top of a mochaccino...ugh. She felt ill.
"So, this is the Mai who's going to take the NEXT tournament by storm, huh?"
she said dryly to her mirror self, rubbing the corner of a violet eye.
As the door clicked behind her Debra got an idea. An evil idea. The perfect
revenge! She dived through the curtains into coach class, her red-haired friend watching
curiously.
"Oh, blondie," she cooed at Jou, who was filling in the inflight crossword,
incorrectly down to letter count, and in pen. "There's a lady up in first class who wants to
talk to you. Something about wanting to join a club."
"I don't have a club," Jou protested, scribbling madly on the puzzle. "Do you
know a five-letter word for 'dense person'?"
"Idiot," suggested his seatmate.
"I am not!" Jou snapped.
"Oh, but I think you may have heard of this one--" her voice dropped to a whisper
"--the mile-high club."
Jou's eyes went wide, and the pen left a six-inch trail across the page.
"Show me the way," he cheered, letting Debra drag him by the hand up to the
first-class bathroom.
"Ughh..." moaned Mai, unbuttoning her skin-tight faux suede pants. (Mai always
said, there is no way a woman could look good dressed in the skin of a cow.) Her
stomach was in revolt. She hovered over the sink like a bum with a hangover, splashing
her face with water.
"Ohhh..."'
And at that second the door opened.
"'Ello?"
Mai froze.
Jou froze.
Two drops of water dripped off Mai's face, landing with little splashes in the fetid
sink. Her lower eyelids started to twitch.
"....you....?!!" they gasped in unison.
Jou had never been so shocked in his entire life. He took a step in towards her, his
eyes wide.
"Is that really you, Mai?" he asked, ducking down in the confines of the room, his
face close to hers. She could smell the gum he was chewing. Ew. Stale.
"Jounouchi...?"
"Yeah," he said, grinning. He liked the new look! Smart black shirt, sexy
pants...hey...were those her panties?!
Mai turned a deep shade of red, and before another parsec elapsed she was
rezipped and buttoned, and the look on her face suggested homicide.
'Time to run,' Jou gulped, and bolted out the door, Mai hot in pursuit.
"Where do you think you're going?!" blared a man's voice.
It was the man Mai had sat next to--and now, he had her by the neck! "NOBODY
MOVE! We're taking over this flight."