The United States was once the land of freedom and opportunity. A vast, unexplored land brimming with potential and a bright future. Then the came the compromises, the mistakes. Invaders took the land from the natives, poisoned the water and cut down the trees. Within a few generations, it had all turned sour. Full of their own superiority, the continent took up arms and started trying to police the world.
For some time, the world actually acquiesced to the stance. It gave struggling nations a chance to better develop themselves instead of being torn apart through civil war. But when the countries started to stand on their own feet and expand their culture, the Americans were still there, trying to implement their own rules. Again, they were given more lead than was necessary because it seemed that they had the best intentions.
Then they started trying to control, to direct. Countries that had previously felt the hand of friendship now knew the gauntlet of control and subjugation. Alliances were formed, nations rose up and said in one voice 'No'. At that point, the Americans had one heavy choice before them: attack the world or retreat into their stolen land again. With a unified planet against them, the posturing country was forced back inside its borders. With dwindling resources and splitting factions, the nation actually divided itself into three before the war broke out. Seeing the plight they had created, many of the other countries rushed to the aid of the failed citizens.
For several decades, the damage was slowly healed and a more peaceful state of mind began to permeate the nations. Finally, the damage was completely reversed – on the surface at least – when the three countries rejoined themselves into one. Deciding it was no longer apt to be called the 'United States' the name of this new nation was simply the Union. Yet many countries returned to using the name that people the world over still recognized it as – America.
Oceanside was a middling city, nowhere near as sprawling as the confined reaches of Los Angeles to the near north or as classy as San Diego a short way to the south. It was a nice city with places to eat, sleep and live that hadn't been corrupted by the corporate greed that had torn America apart. It was also the chosen city to host the opening ceremony of the Legend of Duellist Kingdom.
Thousands of fans and reporters had flocked to the city as soon as the news had broken. Inside sources were cut as the false information turned their reputations sour. Flight companies made a month's profit every day for a week as each flight was booked and overbooked. If the global population could shrink itself down small enough, they would have all squeezed into Oceanside to bear witness to the biggest Duelling event in history.
Problems instantly arose. Like the unethical practice of overbooking flights for the odd passenger who didn't show, hotels turned a blind eye to the booking system in favour of cramming as many rooms as they could. Houses with empty rooms found themselves taking in piles of cash and 'old friends from out of town' with the aim of staying a few days to catch the excitement. Police were called in to break up illegal campsites and keep people from crashing in vacant buildings to stop the wild influx of bodies they couldn't quite control.
Within a day of the destination being made public, every available room in Oceanside was packed and heavy bribes were changing hands to open up the unavailable ones. Practically overnight, the population had almost doubled from around two hundred thousand to over three hundred and fifty thousand. Shops became bare, emergency orders were placed and even nobody was able to move for the reporters on the streets and the Duellists in the roads. By the time the first week was out and any Duellist hoping to participate had arrived, tensions were high and riots were in danger of breaking out. Sullen storm clouds caused a high pressure in the air, causing intense headaches and shortening tempers everywhere.
"I don't like this." Lounging against a window, one of the younger competitors was staring the crowds of reporters turning on each other with the hunger of starving wolves over a fresh deer.
"It's just a phase." Relaxing in a comfortable chair, a more seasoned partner was shuffling through a stack of cards. "How many fights so far?" Situated on the corner of a crossroads, they had an excellent vantage down two streets and a passable view down the others. With a handy pair of binoculars, they were keeping track of the number of fights between Duellists, reporters and the inevitable Duellist-reporter frictions.
"Six between Duellists, nine between reporters and three with both." A punch was thrown in the street below and added to the tally. "Ten reporters." Watching a camera smashed against the ground and a stand turn into a weapon, the young man turned away from the violence. "How much longer do we have to wait?"
Spiralling out a web of possible combinations, the figure at the table appreciated the result before sliding them back into one stack. "Word is, official registration opens sometime today." Shuffling cards, a hand was pulled to test the balance. "That's why they waited so long."
"Why?" Looking further down the street, he could make out another fight breaking through the throng of bodies piling through the road.
Spreading out the cards again, another examination was undertaken. "To weed out the people without patience. If they end up in jail, they can't be a part of the Legend of Duellist Kingdom. Less competitors, less work to do." Hearing footsteps in the hallway, he walked back over to the door and held his eye to the peephole. Situated at the end of the hallway, the apartment they were in was the perfect hideaway. Trying to juggle bags of overpriced shopping in either hand whilst trying to reach for keys, a tall black lady was approaching the door. Gently opening the door, he shuffled to one side with a smile.
"Leslie." Locking the door shut behind her, a bag was instantly scooped from her arms.
"Oh, you are a good boy." Grey was starting to streak her hair but the old lady still had plenty of fight left in her. From the gun she kept strapped to her ankle and the knuckledusters in her purse, it was clear she was not to be messed with. "Better than the last sack I let stay with me. Damn online letting. No telling who will show up." Though her eyes were starting to fail, she negotiated around with the use of her failing senses as much as she could.
"Thanks again for letting us stay here. We really can't thank you enough." Stacking cans of tomato sauce in a cupboard, Leslie waved away any attempts at help.
"Boy, I have seen more in my life than you can imagine." Stopping between cans, she fixed her fading stare on him. "Well, not seen." Chuckling slightly, she finished putting away the shopping. "I know you two are good boys. Can't hide that from me. You just keep saying nice things and it'll all work itself out."
"Les, you're a treasure." Ignoring her objections, he gently slid into the middle of the job and took over before she could object. "Whatever happened to your last guest?"
"Ryan? Arse left one day and never really came back. Hey, you ever need someone bad 'taken care of'," Lowering her voice consiprationally, Leslie slid closer to the young man. "I'll give you his number." Fumbling a can, it was saved by fast reflexes and a quick hand. "He has a soft spot for charity cases."
"That sounds," Hiring a mercenary to take out the competition seemed more in line with the Duellists outside than the ones inside. "Nice?"
"Nice?" Leslie almost spat in the sink. "Mouthy bastard will probably try and charm you with his old music or nonsense. Give him no slack, you'll be alright."
Over by the window, a tuneless jangle sounded as a message arrived on the young man's phone. A quiet hum sounded in the kitchen at the same moment as another handset vibrated.
"It's the tournament." Up and down the streets outside, phones were sounding. "List of places to sign up." In keeping with the petty traditions of humanity, some Duellists and reporters were smashing all the phones they could reach in an effort to stem the flow of competition for both news and Duels.
"One's not too far from here." Fumbling cans and phones, the distracted Duellist in the kitchen juggled the rest of the shopping away in record time.
"You boys be careful out there." Feeling her way over to the umbrella stand in one corner of the room, Leslie gripped a particularly thick handle. "I'll hold the fort." Both men dropped to the floor as she pulled out a thick shotgun and began scrubbing it with her sleeve.
"Les?" Voice slightly muffled, it was impossible for the elderly lady to tell which of the two was speaking. "Would you mind letting us leave the apartment first?" As they combat-crawled through the front door, Leslie settled herself onto a raggedy old couch, laid the weapon across her knees and lifted a landline from its cradle. With the apartment to herself again, she decided to take the time to call an old friend and catch up on events.
In a penthouse suite overlooking the water, one of the few Duellists with enough pull to nail a floor with a pool was relaxing under a patio umbrella with a cafetière gently steaming on the table. A list of official registration areas had already been arrived that morning, a perk of power. With enough money and connections, it was possible to have everything arranged ahead of the rest of the competition even finding out.
Those few who could be counted as close would recognise the subtle tenseness across the neck and shoulders. Both feet perfectly still. A hunter certain of superiority. Then the phone went off. Picking up the device, a short message scrolled across the screen as a cup was slowly lowered back down.
"Finally." Continuing to ignore the prattling voices inside the rooms, measured footsteps carried over to the edge of the balcony. Even from high up, the city streets were thronged with Duellists and reporters, identifiable from the way they moved and grouped. "It's time we settled this." Waving a hand to the huddled cronies inside, several burst out as fast as the doors could let them. "Get me a helicopter." One finger was enough to stop the beginnings of excuses that wouldn't make it past a turned back. "Get me. A helicopter." Staring out at the city below, the fights breaking out between factions, there was the faintest touch of a smile.
Down in the mingling streets, the duo of Duellists felt a buzz go through their pockets. It would be suicide to try and pull a phone out when there were so many bodies crushing in from every angle and even the worst pickpocket could walk away with a small fortune in a slow afternoon. Pulling his accomplice behind an overflowing garbage container in a dirty alley, the leader pulled out his phone to read the message inside. "You seeing this?" Standing guard as his partner read the message on his own phone, a quickening pulse left the pair with dry mouths and clammy palms.
"Still not believing it." Slipping the phone into a front pocket, the jacket was zipped over the opening to deter any curious thieves. "What about you?" An excited grin was all the answer that was needed from his young partner.
"What do we do about it?" Hiding away the phones, they watched the faces stream past the opening of the alleyway.
"Make our way through this lot, get to registration and hope this isn't some elaborate joke." An equally hardened and predatory look settled across his marked face. "I've got some business that needs settling." Turning deeper into the alley, he led the pair away from the community centre at the end of the street outside – easily the closest and probably calmest registration point in the entire city – and headed towards the more boisterous crowds just a block over. Operating under the foolish assumption that more space meant more speed, Duellists were practically stampeding towards the nearby sports arena. Unable to control the direction of their travel, the pair could only try to keep themselves together as they were swept through the doors, across a massive foyer and eventually onto a trampled pitch beneath the stormy skies.
Thousands of Duellists were crammed into the football stadium in an effort to formally register for the competition. Bodies were slamming against one another in the futile belief that getting to the front of the lines first would mean a better position to start the tournament from. An occasional scream went up as somebody was knocked to the ground and instantly trampled.
"Crow!" Watching his partner get swept up in the tangled mess, the Blackwing Duellist felt no remorse in flooring a few bodies to reach his young partner again.
"If anything goes wrong," Grabbing Leo's arm as a Russian team charged headlong through the masses, Crow held on as if his life depended on it. Maybe because it did. "I'm totally okay with you using my dead body as a weapon." Crow had no doubt that he could take on half the crowd and still come out swinging. He was stupid that way. What really bothered him was the look of panic on Leo's face at the bedlam.
"If anything goes wrong," Momentarily dropping beneath the waves of bodies, Leo squeezed his way back upright and lunged desperately for the reassuring perch of Crow. "I'm totally fine leaving you behind." Sharing a slightly terrified grin, they tried not to get crushed beneath the ocean of raw talent crashing towards registration.
Metal barriers had been erected closer to the lengthy tables beneath a goal post and forced the crowds to at least filter into some semblance of order. When the pair eventually reached the relative safety of the line, they stopped holding hands and acted as if nothing had happened.
"Next." Far up ahead, the barriers stopped about fifty metres from the lengthy tables. Stacks of papers were piled where possible, computer tablets had been secured to the tables with lengths of steel cable and guarded by surly guards. From the looks on their faces, it was possible they had been born without the ability to smile.
"At this rate," Mouthing numbers to himself, Leo tried to do some simple speed/distance calculations. "It'll be three hours until we get there." It should be noted that this was a genuine answer. In the conversion between metres and miles, Leo had somehow managed to add several digits. That number had then fluctuated wildly as he tried – for unknown reasons – to measure the speed in feet per second. Against all odds, the answer was somehow in the right area.
"Have you heard anything else from your sister?" Somewhere up ahead, the another team signed up and granted enough room for their queue to shuffle forward a few inches.
"Luna?" Single children would never learn the sorts of looks that siblings developed. Arching his eyebrows in the centre, holding them down on the outside and tilting his head down just enough, Crow used the look usually that translated as 'duh'. "She said she'd try and get here but it was difficult trying to find a flight." It had been several months since the twins had last been together, Leo dropping his sister off to attend a lecture in London. They still spoke almost every day and video-chatted whenever they could but actual meetings were slowly getting further apart.
"I heard she was doing charity work?" It didn't escape Crow's attention that Luna had the biggest heart he knew and an intellect somewhere slightly larger than his.
"Yeah, she's..." Leo paused and tried to remember the big words his twin had used. When she became excited, Luna had a tendency to forget to shorten her sentences for her brother. "Working all over?" Biting his tongue, Crow didn't trust himself not to laugh at the mixed question/answer. "I dunno." Leo had noticed the look just before it could vanish. "Luna travels a lot."
"I'm sure your parents are very proud." And they were. While most parents had a tendency to panic if they didn't hear from their children every other day, Leo and Luna could fly to several different countries before phoning home. Their parents knew what the pair were capable of doing under their own power and gave the twins a long leash.
"What about Jack? Do you know anything?" Opening his mouth to answer the question, Crow heard something above the shouting of the crowd. A steady bear that grew increasingly louder, closer. Air picked up and began coasting in a stiff breeze as the Duellists around them heard it too. Looking around, they all tried to locate the source of the noise. A few even managed to look skywards as the helicopter burst into view in a tightly controlled and highly illegal descent into the stadium. Enough money had been funnelled into the pilot's account that an early retirement could begin even after the extortionate charges were paid. Lowering to within twenty feet of the grass, rapidly rotating blades forced some Duellists from their feet and risked undoing all the work of that morning.
Frantic bodies piled atop the paperwork as they fought to stop their hard work being swept away. Swinging down on a rope ladder and showing up the assembled crowd, world reigning Duel Monster's Champion Jack Atlas was dropped in the middle of the wide circle that had formed from the downdraft of the helicopter blades. Striding through the shocked ranks of Duellists as his ride departed through the skies again, Jack stopped before the ranks of freshly disorganized tables. Turning to the crowd, he glowered at their sullen faces before putting them beneath his notice and held out a hand for a blank form. "A pen, if you would be so kind." Waiting patiently as the flustered attendant struggled to reorganize the disturbed forms, Jack eventually picked one off the grass by his feet and savagely filled out the boxes on the paper.
"Does that count?" Something about the way he stole the spotlight always served to frustrate Crow. Not that he envied Jack the attention – Jack constantly earned it – but his methods left something to be desired, like subtlety. "At least he's minding his manners." Carefully placing the pen back on the desk, Jack handed his form across to the trembling official and received a mumbled reply in return.
"Think I could pull that off?" Eyeing the retreating helicopter, desire was starting to settle in Leo's heart. Jack had been his hero as a child and even more now that he was an adult.
"Never mind." Watching Jack approach, Crow folded his arms. "Jack."
"Crow." Clenching his jaw several times, the older brother nodded to the youngest member of the team. "Leo. Glad you could make it."
"Aw, you know." Grounding his left heel in the grass, Leo dazzled them both with his smile. "Who could turn you guys down?" Taking advantage of the break in the crowd, Crow hurried forward and scribbled his details in a form.
"Leo." Grabbing the young man, he ushered him to the table as reality began settling in. This was Jack Atlas, winner of more tournaments than some of them had entered, the King of Turbo Duels and possibly the best Duellist who had ever lived.
"Heard about your work in the Shingon League." Turning his back on the crowd, Jack put on his traditional glower. "Not bad work but do you really think it's enough to take me on?" For a moment, Crow was almost drawn into the rivalry banter before more pressing concerns took over.
"Did you think to plan for when the people you just showed up start getting angry?" Enraged and envious faces were starting to replace the confused ranks of the crowd. Nobody was taking actual steps forward but every time anybody turned to speak to somebody beside them, another inch was shaved from the space near the tables.
"I planned on not being the last one here." They had all got the message, a time and place. Crow and Leo had already been nearby but Jack had accidentally erred on the early side. As it was, there was every chance the trio were torn apart before the final musketeer could arrive. "Does that criminal brain of yours happen to have an escape route?" Another few inches were taken from their safe space as Leo finished his registration and rejoined the grim brothers.
"Not that we can easily get at." With angry mutterings sounding and fingers curling into fists on all sides, it seemed certain that violence would erupt. "You take the left, I'll take the right?"
"Perfect. We can use Leo as bait." A comforting wink quelled any worrying thoughts in Leo's mind. If Jack and Crow led the charge, he would willingly follow. As luck would have it, the pair of moderately suicidal brothers had the option to forgo throwing their gullible friend to the snarling hordes.
Far behind them, another figure set foot on the grass. Disturbed by the person tapping them on a shoulder, several angry Duellists at the back of the crowd turned with quickly dying retorts on their lips. Silence seemed to radiate out and a path opened up before the sure-footed stride like the Red Sea before Moses. Still like the ocean, whispers preceded the corridor of bodies closing behind the walking figure.
A circular opening that had drifted across the field opened up to envelope Jack in the centre as he stiffened in the silence. "Nice entrance." Patting the white jacket on one padded shoulder as it slid by, Yusei Fudo smiled across the desk at the frozen staff. "So, where do I sign up?"
This next week should be full of chapters. Remember to follow the story and leave a review if you're feeling generous :)
