Chapter Two: Like No Tomorrow
"Hey, you little snot-nosed brat! You either get over here and do what you're paid to do, or you can get the hell out of here!"
Seto, who was still standing in the entrance to the apartment, grimaced at the sound of the harsh language thrown towards him. He was brought up in an environment where even the slightest mispronunciation of a word was considered a mortal sin. Never would such brutish sentence structure escape the mouths of even the youngest children of the upper class Kaiba was acquainted with. Eloquence, the intricate technique of combining above average vocabulary with intelligent conversation tactics, was the only way someone of high society could survive. Of course, some cleverly placed witticisms traced with irresistible charm couldn't help but raise a person's status rating, along with a few award-winning smiles.
/Rich and famous individuals can be just as vicious and nasty as the men I work for, though. / the tall teen reminded himself, chewing on his bottom lip. /They always have the sharp blades of their tongues poised, ready to attack someone with the whiplash of their damaging speech. Aristocrats always have to worry about fitting in, mindlessly agreeing with any group of money-flaunting bastards, always trying to find the best method to suck up to someone--/
"Excuse me," interrupted his newest client, practically spitting out the words he formed, "I don't know what you're doing, but you can chit-chat with yourself on your own time! You think I'm payin' ya to take a tour of my home here?"
"No, sir," the brown-haired adolescent said quickly, drawing himself out of his own personal musings. "I was just-"
Before he could complete his statement, his customer seized one of his wrists. Plastering the boy's frail limb to his back, the rough patron started to twist Seto's arm in an abnormal fashion. Hanging his chin over the younger male's neck, the consumer pressed his body up against the firm structure in front of him. Kaiba, jerking his head towards the direction of the ceiling, felt his mouth drop open in a frozen scream. At this moment in his life, he couldn't comprehend anything else besides the signals of pure pain shooting through his veins, forcing him to shudder in a fear colder than death. Every time someone made a move on him like this, he never ceased to become absorbed by panic.
/Wait, why am I so afraid of this? / he asked himself, his wild blue orbs fixed on the texture of the surface ahead of him. /All depraved guys like this pull similar stunts to get themselves in the mood. Matter of fact, it's nothing I haven't dealt with before. I mean, what vile deed could this pervert possibly come up with that can't be dismissed later? /
"When you're in my house, you do what I want." the man growled in his product's ear, breathing heavily on the tender flesh he held.
Somehow, the phrase spoken to him sounded more like a threat than a statement. Nodding his assent, the sapphire-eyed individual tried to make up for his reverie with passive expressions.
"I'm sorry for causing you to wait so long." apologized the tall teen softly, using the silky attribute of his voice to calm his client down.
He hoped that he was dealing with a slight case of irritation, a reaction that could easily be remedied with some well-placed maneuvers. All he had to do was push the right buttons to get what he wanted out of the ruffian…something he knew he would literally have to do to earn his salary. In spite of the significant power struggle occurring between the pale boy and his customer, Seto attempted to free himself from the horrible grip he was in to gain back some control in his favor. If he persisted to keep his lips sealed, then the brown-haired boy worried he would have more severe problems to deal with. After all, this job was supposed to be earning him extra cash. How would he ever explain to his brother why he would need to drain the remaining balance of his checking account for a string of medical bills?
"Is that so?" inquired Kaiba's captor, his tone as taunting as his dominating disposition, "What ya gonna do to make up for it?"
Swallowing his pride, the slender adolescent answered huskily, "Whatever pleases you the most."
"Oooh, ain't you a saucy one?" commented the crude man, rubbing his unshaven face across the exterior of his temporary merchandise. That single gesture was enough to make the blue-eyed boy's skin prickle, forcing him to endure streams of shivers throughout his entire system. As if he could sense the wary condition his prey was in, the cruel male toyed with the boy's conscience relentlessly. "You really believe you got what it takes to make me happy? What if I don't like what you do?"
"My performance level is so high that I should be called an expert in this field." countered Seto swiftly, giving his client the illusion of false pride by throwing back his shoulders while straightening his body. "I've never left a customer feeling dissatisfied with any experience they've had with me."
"Arrogantly put." the dirty man remarked, obviously not fooled by Kaiba's show of artificial confidence. "For a whore, you're pretty conceited."
"Oh, is that so?" the dark-haired male asked, mimicking his captor's illiterate sarcasm. Even though he knew the repercussions of his next group of words would be atrocious, the blue-eyed boy couldn't resist holding his tongue any longer. "For an uneducated guy, I believe "conceited" is the largest vocabulary word you've used so far."
"Wrong answer." was all the strong client spat, his tone of voice containing a steely edge to it.
The consumer didn't halt to intimidate his painted artifact, nor did he keep on bullying the individual he had in his clutches. Instead, he yanked the delicate limb he had in his palm into a more warped position, triggering a tortured cry from his victim. Relishing the pitiful whimpering, the ruthless male repeated his dastardly actions.
At last, when the poor teen could barely bring himself to communicate his grief verbally, the patron asked sharply, "Had enough yet?"
Nodding his head vigorously, the pale adolescent watched as a bead of icy sweat dripped off his visage.
"That's not good enough for me to hear." snarled the customer, continuing to wrench his product's arm into an even more agonizing pose. "Now, do ya want me to stop?"
Fearing that the bones in his brutalized limb would punch through his skin, the thin schoolboy croaked, "Y-yes-"
"Yes please." Seto's master corrected harshly, apparently wanting the boy to beg for his life.
"Y-Yes, please." repeated Kaiba, disgracefully reduced to a new extreme.
Nothing clawed at his nerves more than pleading. The whole pathetic feat seemed like something only desperate weaklings would accomplish, drama queens who used tears to their advantage. They were crybabies in Seto's mind, immature individuals who could only achieve what they wanted by exploiting their emotions.
/Am I not the same as all those childish coworkers and classmates of mine now? / the young man wondered silently, terrorized by the hidden truth he had revealed to himself. /What if I'm just a reflection of the inadequacy I'm constantly surrounded by? Could it also be that this is the only future I'm ever going to have, getting assaulted by ignorant bastards at night and mending injured goods during day light hours? /
To him, working day in and day out like this was a lot like sky diving without a parachute. Pushed off of his comfortable seat at the top of the stock market charts, the brown-haired boy watched helplessly as his company's shares decreased daily, cutting his corporation's multi-billion dollar corporation in half. None of his technology was selling anymore, not even his newest, state-of-the-art machines with data systems that surpassed even the most recent PC upgrades. If the truth was ever allowed to be told, citizens of his country were being depressed by a recession-the worst they had witnessed in years. People could no longer afford to throw their hard-earned money away on a brand-new computer network or a fancy cable modem hook-up. Consequently, the entertainment industry had taken the largest hit, namely the tech-based ones. Living in an economy that was growing worse with every news update, residents of his hometown were subjected to undesirable professions and mediocre wages. Even after he had completed the horrendous task of downsizing his employees, Kaiba realized that it would only be a matter of time before his cherished business would dissolve. That's when he entered into the hardcore lifestyle of prostitution, practically selling his soul to make a buck. Domino City, which had been attracting tourists across the globe, apparently had a dark side to its quaintly illustrated brochures. It had its slums, its ghetto atmosphere where either incredibly crazy people roamed, or amazingly naïve individuals wandered into. In all honesty, the streets weren't a very nice place to meet new friends. And it was an even worse destination to be caught dead in.
/It's--for him, though…/ Seto reminded himself forcefully, remembering his one and only reason for stalking the streets, /The minute I quit getting cash for what I do, that'll be the same time when I'll have to admit to him that I can't provide for him anymore--/
Suddenly, a terrifying image flashed inside his head, the picture possessing enough impact to take his breath away. He imagined his dear sibling huddled in his lap, grabbing on to his jacket like his very life depended on how well he could hold on. Tears were pouring over his brother's tender cheeks, wetting the front of his formal attire. No matter how hard he hugged his relative's small frame or how much he tried to comfort him; the little boy seemed to be lost in a maze of misery. Casually, someone lifted his sibling from his arms, leaving him to grovel on his marble tiles. Gazing up mournfully from his position on the floor, he caught a glimpse of a social worker handling his brother, dragging the weeping youngster through the double doors of his mansion never to be seen again. Screams resonated from the outside of his grand home, appalling sounds of sorrow that could only be compared to his own heart breaking in defeated sadness.
/That--That won't happen. / he told himself over and over again, banishing the horrifying image from his head. /That will never happen. I will let Lucifer himself purchase my soul before I'd ever let a crisis counselor take my brother away from me. We've never been split up before, and we never will be, either. /
/I'm not crazy; I'm just a little unwell. /
"See, Mokuba?" Kaiba whispered quietly to himself as his dominator released him and pushed him to his knees. "I'm not crazy for doing this. I might be a little unwell for living this way, but not crazy."
"Well, you gonna give me a wax job or not?" inquired the vile man before Seto, shoving his anatomy in the tall teen's face.
Staring disdainfully at the distorted sex organ, the pale schoolboy licked his lips. His mouth was as dry as the heat in the Sahara, his stomach had shrunk into a tight little knot, and his skin had mirrored the same color and texture of a corpse's, but--
/I know, right now you can't tell. Just stay a little while and maybe then you'll see, a different side of me. /
/There's no turning back now. / the fifteen-year-old thought with distant finality, condemning himself to another shift of putrid pleasures. /I can't be who I used to be anymore…/
Taking the hardened flesh into his mouth, the male with dark tresses held his jaw open for easy access. Undoubtedly pleased with the offer being extended to him, the thoughtless man rammed the full length of himself into his transitory lover's throat. Seto, who was already used to such a selfish show of self-gratification, had no trouble keeping his windpipe free and clear. Animals like this were all the same to him, over-possessive creatures of the shadows that could only get laid by flashing a hooker some hundred dollar bills. But that was okay to the blue-eyed boy, just fine with him. He wasn't giving this ill-mannered ghetto scrounge something for nothing. There was money to be made, and that was all he was concerned with at the moment. Pain was only a passing factor, the bruises would heal, the cuts would eventually vanish, and he could finally look forward to the one ray of sunshine in his life: his sibling's arms.
/I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired. I know, right now you don't care. /
/No, I'm not crazy, dear brother. / Seto repeated again and again in his mind, feeling the deteriorating strands of his self-esteem repair themselves upon listening to such a firm affirmation. /I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired. You'll see. I promise you'll see that everything's going to be all right. /
/But soon enough you're gonna think of me, and how I used to be. /
Seto Kaiba, the owner of an internationally known company, an inventor of revolutionary PC equipment and advancements, a brilliant businessman who never ceased to strategically play his cards right, had humbled himself to swallowing the salty fluid that instantly overwhelmed him. Placing a hand over his mouth, he had to focus on steadying himself in order not to vomit up the bitter substance. Somewhere, somehow, some undercover journalist was probably outside the dingy apartment he was in, taking photographs of what they had seen. Wouldn't Domino City be surprised to read in their Sunday newspapers about some formerly rich executive who had it all, and then suddenly had to sell his body to support himself? Oddly enough, he couldn't care less about the demanding customers he faced, the reporters trying to get a shocking new story to cover, or the conflicting feelings he had concerning his self-image. All he had a place for in his heart was his brother's arms, those sweet little limbs wrapped around his neck like there was no tomorrow.