Chapter Three: Double Jeopardy
"Give me my money!" demanded the dark-haired boy, banging on the door of his last client's residence.
"I don't have to give you shit." responded the filthy male in his apartment, his tone cold and uncaring. "Get the hell off my property before--"
"But I earned that wage!" Seto protested, trying to sound aggressive enough to be taken seriously this time.
He'd had enough of being short-changed, of being cheated, of having to hang his head and walk away like a wounded animal with its tail between its legs because his customers were taking advantage of him. Now more than ever, he needed that money, so desperately yearned for any greenbacks that he could get his hands on, that he would do whatever needed to be done just to get it. Of course, that wasn't always an easy task to keep up with. Sometimes, a consumer would stuff some cash into his hand, promising to give him the rest of the dough later that evening. When push came to shove, after he had done just about everything from going down on his client to having destructive intercourse with them, he found himself being hurled out of their home with under half of his wages still crumpled in his palm. This was one of those same nightmares, the scary reality of being used for hours of possessed enjoyment, just to be thrust from the stranger's dwelling with barely enough currency in his pocket to be considered minimum wage. He couldn't bear to let this happen again, to be humiliated and frustrated by a person who reeked of below-average intelligence. That was his salary that he earned, his pay that had taken numerous minutes of torture to acquire, and he intended to get every penny that was owed to his name, even if it killed him.
"Are you listening to me?" shouted Kaiba; grimacing every moment his fist met the hard wooden surface he faced. "You're in debt now, you freaking parasite! I want what you told me I'd get! I have to have it! I need to get what I deserve--"
In a flash, the door to the cramped living quarters burst open, almost as if the habitat itself was reacting to Seto's final statement. From the shadowy emptiness emerged a large palm, the limb aiming straight for the pale schoolboy's visage. Although the blue-eyed boy attempted to duck the on-coming attack, he didn't move quickly enough, for the blow caught him on the cheek. Stunned from the unexpected blow, the painted artifact's head snapped to the side, forcing him to lose his balance. Unable to prevent himself from falling, the brown-haired teen crashed into the wall behind him. His skull smashed against the rough exterior, creating a nauseating sound he had never heard before. Listening to the creepy thud bounce throughout the corridor of the hallway he sat slumped in, he knew one thing for certain: he never wanted to hear such an awful noise again. Ever.
"I reckon I gave you just about what you deserved." the man said at last, towering over Kaiba like a naughty child who was on the brink of destroying yet another used toy. "I gather that was what you had in mind, right?"
Alarmed by the expression of sheer insanity he saw, the tall teen shrank away from the abusive individual who smacked him. He didn't want to provoke the lunatic any more than he already had. No amount of money was worth dying for at this interval in his existence, no matter how badly he craved the bills the bulky male had flashed him when they first met. All he had to do was keep quiet, and maybe the overgrown madman would disappear back into his hellhole of a place. Maybe he would. Just maybe.
Appearing to be satisfied by Seto's fear stormed orbs, the callous client smiled. "Good," he finally vocalized, amused by the trembling condition he had imposed on his most recent victim, "I'm glad you're happy now, son. Wouldn't want ya leavin' my place feelin' like you didn't make the most of your time here. Here, I'll even give ya another partin' present for comin' all the way up here just to be with me."
Bending at the waist, the grungy male drew closer to his one-night stand. His mostly white shirt started to slide up to his chest, revealing the project of a long, sloping gut that had been developing for years. Thick sheets of hair protruded from his stocky frame, reminding the cobalt-eyed teen of a gorilla dressed in awkward human attire. It was no wonder to the pale schoolboy why scientists perpetually compared people to apes. This very man had to be the product of a monkey's evolution; only he still resembled what Neanderthals of the dinosaur era had to have been.
"N-no, please," Kaiba started to whimper, sinking back to the level of childish begging he hated to imitate. "No m-more, please?" He hoped that he could gain the crazed individual's favor by emphasizing the word he had been made to say earlier in the customer's apartment. Seto would sing the whole score of Phantom of the Opera if that meant avoiding anymore unprecedented fists of fury. Hell, he'd even drag himself up off the stained carpet floors to act the whole Broadway musical out if he could be promised that violence would never again rear its ugly head.
Regarding the trembling boy coolly, the heavyset individual allowed his grin to widen. "Nice memory you got there." complimented the older person, cocking his head to the side. Suddenly, the momentary kindness vanished from his face, replacing the sugary emotion with a look of deadly serenity. "Too bad it's not what I want from ya."
Nonchalantly, the consumer lifted a grimy hand, displaying the oily texture of his palm to Kaiba. Too horrified to take a breath, the dark-haired teen watched as his tormentor folded his fingers inward, forming his body part into a fist. Sapphire orbs followed the meaty limb's every movement, the blue eyes swinging slowly back and forth like they were under hypnosis. Silence reigned in the run-down passageway the males occupied, amplifying the anxiety-ridden beat of Seto's heart.
Thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thump…
All the brown-haired boy could hear was the heavy hammering of his vital organ, the piece of internal flesh pounding so hard that even his bones began to vibrate.
Thump, thump, thump, thump…
With the knowledge that his client's limb was growing closer, the tall adolescent felt the cage of his chest begin to pound. He couldn't move, pull air into his lungs, or even bring himself to blink. All he did was stare at the tightly closed fist, waiting for the inevitable to occur.
Thump, thu-thu-thump, thump, thump, thu-thu-thump…
Truly starting to dread the impact that the man would have on him, the pale teen began to lose control of himself. Trepidation grabbed his vital organ, squeezing it with such terrible strength that his structure shivered with the hammering his upper body produced. How hard would the brutal bastard hit him? What kind of appalling marks would show afterwards? What believable lie would Seto have to invent to keep his brother from guessing the truth?
A wicked storm of questions flooded his mind, drowning his senses with the differences between right and wrong. He knew he couldn't keep this up forever, conveniently lying to his brother about every major laceration, discoloration of his skin, or scabbed over scars that would stay with him for life. Long-sleeved shirts were a permanent addition to his wardrobe, along with floor-length trench coats and waist-to-ankle dress pants. Wearing those garments gave others (during the day light hours, of course) the impression that he was little more than a hard-working professional, planning his next business meeting or investigating the rise and fall of the stock market. The formal clothes worked like a magical key for him, opening a treasure chest that had the mystical capability to make others believe that this was the only reputation he ever owned. Thinking that the illusion could last as long as he kept his nighttime activities to himself, Kaiba stuffed his lesser-known identity into that same chest. While the sun was shining in the sky, he never gave a second thought to what he would be subjecting himself to later on. Mokuba was by his side as he tended to their finances, so there wasn't any pressing need to reflect on his other detrimental duties. But when the outside world became darker…so did he. Shadows would actually creep across his legs and over his shoulders, circling round and round him like a boa constrictor hunting for dinner. After Seto compassionately tucked his sibling into bed with a lullaby (Mokuba refused to close his eyes until he heard one of his relative's songs), the eldest brother would drift into his own private chambers. There, behind the extravagantly papered walls, buried within the opulent compartments of his furniture, resided all of his secrets. Untold truths existed in the items he primped with, the costumes he flaunted, tip-toed around the cracks and crevices, even contaminated the cosmetics he applied to complete his streetwalker outfits. These belongings, even though they were inanimate, hovered above him like a beehive, precariously clinging to his ceiling. One day, he feared that his brother would uncover a curling iron, a tube of lipstick, or something even more damaging, a condemn. That's when the house of horror would drop onto his carpet, busting open the paper-thin exterior to generate a path for the swarms of winged creatures to escape out of. Seto anticipated tears to come forth, painful drops of water that would sting his sibling's eyes and drip off of the small cherub face he had. Questions, similar to what the blue-eyed boy was faced with now, would be plunged into Mokuba's too-young mind. What would Kaiba tell him? Another self-centered fabrication to keep his tail out of double jeopardy? That he was just saving some of Tea's dance clothes in storage per her request? As plausible as that excuse sounded, he was fully aware of the fact that his brother would accept any story to be true, even though it suggested critical faults. Mokuba was so innocent, naïve, just had so much faith and trust in his hot shot sibling that he worshipped Seto's very essence. To him, Kaiba was a certified saint, a big brother that was always right, a best friend that could do now wrong. The corporate executive was the first thought on his brain when he woke, the one individual he fantasized about becoming someday, and the only person he mentioned twice in his prayers nightly.
/Little brother, I hope you prayed for me tonight. / Kaiba though quietly, closing his tired eyes. /More than that, I hope there's actually someone out there who gives a damn enough to listen to your prayers. /
Somehow, as if divine intervention had finally come to his rescue, he peered out from beneath his lengthy lashes and saw the dirty male stick out an index finger. Perplexed by the action, the blue-eyed teen observed as the male began to rub his visage. Cringing at the touch, the tall adolescent squeezed his eyes shut, expecting the worst to happen.
/This is it, I'm going to die now…/ Seto panicked inwardly, forming his breathing into shallow gusts. /He's going to strip me nude, take me right here in public, then leave my bleeding body in this hallway for his neighbors to find. Newspapers all over the world will contain my tragic, yet embarrassing case, and everyone will regret crossing my path. People in every nation will talk once all that information is exposed, and the personal status I fought to protect from the time I was born will be shattered. As for my brother…/ Feeling the lies of his existence sting his eyes, he bit down hard on his tongue to keep himself from crying. /He really will hate me, even in death. Mokuba won't even be able to tolerate hearing my name, since I've shamed him so much. He'll hate me for this. He'll always hate me for this. He'll never stop hating me--/
"Listen up, boy." ordered the dirt-covered male, loud enough to involve the other tenants in his abrupt confrontation with Kaiba. When the teenager at his feet didn't answer back, the client decided to add some pent-up rage to his words. "I'm talkin', child. If you know what's good for ya, you'll set your pretty lil' self up and hear me out."
/Oh, God, he wants me to watch while I'm being murdered…/
"I told ya what you should be doin'." the insensitive voice resounded once more, containing a chilling edge of steel to it.
/Please, no, not here…/
Mechanically, the blue-eyed boy was jarred to life by his captor's commands. He moved like a rusty robot that hadn't been injected with electricity for years, completing his actions with the absence of his usual grace and elegance. Drawing his legs up to his chest, he wrapped his arms around them just so he could have the illusion of holding someone. In reality, he wished someone would take the time to hold him. Not in the family type fashion or in a friendly kind of way, but in the other form of affection. Maybe that's what he was missing all along: someone who would miss him when he was gone, kiss away his tears, stroke his hair with tenderness, listen to him sing without laughing sardonically at him. Someone who would care about him no matter what, that would treat him like the polar opposite of a leper, even if he happened to be one anyways. Could there be someone out there who would have no trouble sharing a beautiful romance with him? Could he, Seto, Kaiba, an advocate of uninterrupted loneliness and silence, dare to dream that there could be someone out there right now, waiting for him in a flower field blossoming with love?
/Too late for childish fantasies. Destiny calls…/
Ever so carefully, the dark-haired teen opened his eyes; his sight glazed over with the sadness of never knowing what it was like to treasure and cherishes another soul intimately. Hiding his emotions fervently, he wore a mask devoid of any real feeling. Awaiting the last phrases he would ever hear, Kaiba gazed into the vacant nightmares ahead of himself.
Content with the audience he was presented, the messy male began.
"In all my twenty years of livin' here, I never, ever got talked down to by a kid." Seeing how much Seto detested the insult of being referred to as a child, the man made a mental note to repeat it throughout his speech. "That's right, no little ones ever dared to cross me, not as much as you've done with me tonight. I'll admit that I let ya slide with that stupid remark ya made in my house--my own house, that is--and I regret that now. I should've hit you so hard for that, but I didn't. Then you claw at my door like some crazy hell cat demandin' me to hand over money I had no intention of givin' ya in the first place--"
"You promised me that I'd get at least eight hundred dollars for being with you!" interrupted Seto, thinking he had nothing else to lose.
The older individual shook his head, the greasy blond strands of his hair so soiled that they stuck to his forehead.
"Nu-uh, young one. I said--"
"Don't lie to me! I know what I heard!"
"Ya don't know when to shut up, do ya?" asked the other person, aggravated by the behavior Kaiba provided him. To prevent further interruptions, he snatched the high school adolescent's throat. Tightening his grasp around the middle of the boy's neck, he hauled the youth into a standing position. Struggling to free himself from the nasty clutches of his tormentor, Seto tried to wriggle out of the man's grasp. Amused by the look of worry on his product's face, the other male smile viciously. "Don't you try to get away from me, you little bitch. If you do, I'll track you down and snap this pencil neck of yours like I did my wife's."
"Y-you--You killed someone before?" asked the brown-haired teenager, his sapphire eyes disturbingly wide.
"Yeah, you could say that." confessed the fiend, flashing his victim a toothless smile. "Some of you more smarter people might call it murder."
"I'm going to die, aren't I?" Seto blurted out instinctively, wanting to confirm his suspicions at last. "You're going to kill me like you killed your wife, right?"
Glancing up at the dimly lit ceiling, the man appeared thoughtful for a moment. Methodically, he studied the uneven grooves jutting from overhead; their sharp tips seemed to resemble a countless array of broken bone. Dropping his line of sight to the light-skinned boy, he gently shook his head.
"Naw, you must've gotten lucky today, kid." he finally said, acting as if he had bestowed a great and wonderful favor to his merchandise. Kaiba, who could hardly believe what he was hearing, stood stock-still. He was so surprised that he was being granted a second chance to live that he had to command himself not to let his jaw hang open. "Not in the mood for slaughterin' a kid. Hey, just 'cause I'm a criminal doesn't mean I don't have any ethics. That's none of you're business, no how. Anyways, I'm tired of dealin' with ya, so I'm gonna leave ya with this piece 'o advice." As if to stress his phrases even more, he leaned in closely to the schoolboy. The stench of his breath attacked Kaiba's senses, but he was too scared to cough. Eying the blue-eyed boy closely, the murderer spoke in a hushed whisper, "If I wanted to be a real asshole, I'd call the cops on ya and have them take ya away to the slammer. That'd be your home away from home, that tiny cell packed with other prisoners. You're just some little bratty bitch, and that's exactly what the hardened criminals will use ya for. You'll be in the nurse's office so much there, getting' stitches for your ass 'cause the inmates will fuck ya like the whore you never knew ya could be. Pretty sweeties like you don't last long there, ya know." The wild manner in which his black-as-coal eyes glinted made Seto's blood run at a temperature below freezing. "So," the man growled, his onyx orbs narrowed like two tiny slits on his visage, "this is my lil' bit 'o wisdom that I'm passin' down to you. Hear me well, 'cause I know you'll be back out on the streets after I'm through with ya here."
To make sure his audience was still interested in his words, he allowed his fingers to tense on his product's Adam's apple. This helped to renew the dark-haired male's terror, for he gasped and choked, practically tearing at the man's stubby hands.
"You said you wouldn't kill me--"
"Shut the fuck up and listen, boy. You're not goin' anywhere 'til I tell ya what I have to. Wherever you are in life, whatever the hell you're doin', don't ever make a habit outta pissin' people off. Understand?" Frightened that his windpipe would give out soon, the brown-haired adolescent nodded emphatically. "I mean it, you born smart-ass, don't you go around makin' enemies outta everyone ya cross. If you do--" Mercilessly, he threw the blue-eyed male away from himself, observing with demented delight as the school boy landed a few feet away from himself. "you just might get a dose of your own damn medicine."
Massaging his swollen flesh, the tall teen caught a glimpse of his client shuffling back into his rat-infested hell. Shadows, the depressing gloom that weighed on Kaiba's conscience at his mansion, had engulfed the figure of the customer who tried to scare him straight. When he was fully capable of breathing at a normal rate again, the light-skinned male pulled himself into a more decent pose. Anything would have looked better than him being down on all fours with his rear end sticking up in the air, appearing to be a new centerfold for a porn mag. Comfortably situated, he brought his knees together and draped his arms around them once more.
"I'm sorry, Mokuba…" he mumbled incoherently to himself, toying with the last and final ribbon of sanity he possessed. "I failed you again. Why I keep failing you, I don't know, but I do."
Lifting his gaze, he stared off into the distance of the hallway. The base of his throat burned badly, but he couldn't do a thing to halt the pain. His customer had really marred his features, with finger marks circling his neck like a ring of fire. Either that, or an invisible leash. Both suited him just fine, he supposed. Upon bringing a shaky hand to his face, he found that his cheek had been tenderized as well. By morning, his normally cream-colored skin would be warped into some repulsive shade of black, blue, or purple. Maybe all three, if he was really lucky this time.
/Everyone's going to ask me how I got them, though. / he realized, wincing terribly when he applied any pressure to his slender face. /All the foundation in the world won't be able to cover this one up. What am I going to do? Lie some more? / Sapphire eyes, troubled with the well of tears building up behind their lids, forced themselves to blink. Their rivers of sorrow retreated, stored for another day and time when they would be needed most. He couldn't see allowing himself to cry, even if it felt like the most logical action to take at the moment. /No wonder I can't find anyone to love me. That man was right back there, telling me all those things. I'm such an anti-social bitch that no one can ever find me desirable…because I'm just not. / Hugging himself tightly, he buried his head in his lap. /I hate me; too…I'll always hate me. / Sniffling back an unwanted tear, Seto asked himself, /Why? Why must I always be this way? / A sea of questions tore at him, ripping his mind apart like the jaws of a shark. He couldn't think, form adequate, literate thoughts, or even make any real sense to himself. The more he asked "Why?", the more he found himself drowning in his own delusional world of shadows that deception produced for him. /Why can't I be a good brother or a friend to anyone? Why must I always tread in the waters of double jeopardy? /