This is my first Fanfic. Be nice.and review! And why the hell it's PG-13,
cause I said so. MWA! -sticks out tongue-
Disclaimer- Me don't own Yu-Gi-Oh. -sniffs- But I will someday own Seto. And Jou-chan. So.yeah.-cackles-
Kenshin-chan: Don't mind her readers. She's a lunatic. Makes me were a bow tie when we have tea parties, that she does! Oro!
Author: Hush, Ken-chan, and get the bow tie. Blue one this time.
***
The plane smoothly landed down on the runway, the hot Egyptian sun causing a white gleam to blind those close enough to the flying machine. Within minutes, it had stopped easily, and unloading was already in progress.
It was a small plane, and it was hardly a proper landing pad, with only a few small buildings scattered about, the hanger containing about 6 other planes, all surrounded by an ocean of sand, the closest city being Cairo, two hours away. But it made due as the few passengers scrambled for the land, greeted by family and friends.
Except one. The one passenger stood alone, a thin line for a mouth. Even under the scorching heat, she wore all black, totally covered, in a trench coat, leather pants, and a black silk shirt, her hair, parted to the side, straight as anything, the same color as her outfit. Her skin was slightly pale, dark brown eyes emphasized by dark eye shadow, which one could see if they hadn't been shaded by a pair of sunglasses. She glanced around a moment, and started for the parking lot, not bothering to retrieve her luggage, for she carried none-except a shoulder bag that swayed with her steps, rusting against her coat, mingling with the clicking of her high heeled boots.
The girl was only eighteen, at the least, and pretty, though her presence was one of mystery and past happenings. She was tall, and graceful as a cat, a black angel whose wings arched in an invisible mass, allowing her gliding pace to go towards the far end of the lot.
She seemed totally out of place, but walked casually, though quickly, her nostrils flaring slightly as she enveloped herself in the smell of sand and wind and sun, a scent she had missed and longed for all those years. With a soft smile, she nodded deeply to a man standing beside a car, who bowed a little mockingly, saying in a rough voice, "Your ride is here as instructed, milady."
With an attractive husky rasp to her serious voice, the young woman countered with, "I thank you for driving out all this way, good sir. I do hope I will not trouble you at all." A catty smirk played on her lips before seating herself in the worn, but sturdy vehicle, which the man started silently. Eventually, he spoke again to the young woman.
"So, er, why're you wearing such heavy stuff? Hot out there.Not from around her, are you?" He turned briefly to grin curiously at her, but the reply he got was brief, "Because I'm used to heat. And I used to live her, thanks."
Uneasily, he shifted in his seat, and attempted to figure out what he had been working on the whole drive over, "Erm, well, you meeting someone?"
"Yes."
"Oh, nice.old friend?"
"You might say that."
"Uh, yeah, uh, was he the one that called for the car? Strange fellow, Puz told me."
"He is."
"Alright then."
And that's how the conversation dragged out for the remainder of an hour.
***
Seto Kaiba leaned back into his chair, a frown on his face. He had just finished the design for a new Duel Monsters piece of hologram equipment, but victory gave him no satisfaction. The expression that tugged his mouth down was so common for him, but today it should have been curved at the edges, a smirk that promised great things.
It was all because of those nightmares, he thought, cursing his sleep. For the past few weeks, he had been plagued with god-awful nightmares that had sent him into such a cold sweat. They were familiar and unrecognizable at the same time, and the memories of what they were faded quickly as morning came. What he could recall came sharply, to sharply. The same thing, a girl, the sun, a temple, and screams.it was all too weird.
He let out a quiet sigh, and shuffled the paper that lay before him on his desk, jumping nearly a foot in the air as Mokuba burst into his study. The cheerful, black haired boy bounded to him, calling, "Hey Seto!"
Kaiba rubbed his temples, "Mokuba, you scared the crap out of me! What's up?" He ran his fingers through his brown hair that grew to the nape of his neck. Two black circles were swept under his eyes, a sure sign of his problem. He wearily smiled a little at his brother, who thrust a newspaper article at him, torn from yesterday's paper.
His eyes widened a little as he examined it. The article went, as followed:
Girl Claims to Cure Nightmares
Hoe many of us are tortured by nightmares you can't remember, dreams that signify the one thing you forgot? Well, what if there was someone out there, who could record your dreams for you, interpret them-and stop them? And all this, without you even realizing she was doing something?
This is what eighteen-year-old Rei Omshare, called 'the Dark Angel' by those who have been 'healed' by her, claims to be able to do. Her skills, she reluctantly told this reporter, are different from any technology the world could possess, and then refused to give how it was different, and what exactly she did.
Apparently, according to one of her clients, Omshare sits beside you as you sleep, and sketches out what you're dreaming, and then concludes what's going on. After that, the nightmare or strange dream never comes to you again. But how does this strange girl know what you're dreaming? How could she figure out what goes on inside our minds, when our most brilliant scientists can't even conclude how to reach into the subconscious state we fall into?
As there have been no eyewitnesses to what she does to the sleepers, and Omshare icily removes herself from the public, we cannot be sure what happens, and where she gets this information. For the religious, maybe a higher power? For the skeptical, some science she has created herself? Who really knows, but the girl herself.
Seto arched his eyebrows, and gazed at the black-and-white photo beside the article. It was of a fairly tall young woman, angrily shoving her hand up in front of the camera, her mouth opened a little. It was almost too easy to imagine her shouting at the photographer to lay off. Her hair was straight as a board, fluttering behind her slightly, the picture catching her in mid-step, a trench coat flaring behind her. She was quite attractive, but the picture suggested dark clothing and pale skin. Dark Angel? She's a.Vampire, he thought wryly, and curled his lip.
Mokuba beamed at him, "Maybe you could hire her to find out what's going on inside your head, big brother!"
Biting his lip, Seto drummed his fingers on his desk, and glanced at the picture again. "I think I will Mokuba.let's track her down."
Grasping his brother in a hug, Mokuba cheered, "Finally, you'll be able to get some sleep! After all, the nightly raids for coffee to stop the nightmares were keeping me up."
Rolling his eyes, the CEO sarcastically replied, "Well, you know me, what I do is for the common good of everyone."
With that, he led Mokuba out of his study. They had to track down the vampire.
***
The car halted at the edge of Cairo, where the girl insisted to be let off. Without another word, the young woman headed off into the city, disappearing from the driver's view. Not even a goodbye, he thought sarcastically, and drove off in a cloud of dust.
Repositioning her shoulder bag, a smile came to her lips as a set of brown eyes closed. The babble of languages was the sweetest of sounds, combined with the silent heartbeats that spoke of the joy of being here in such a city. It was a symphony no orchestra could outplay.
Her feet took her on the familiar route, towards the quieter market area, where only a few merchants sold their wares, and sandy brown houses rested. Patiently, the girl stopped, humming a gentle tune, cheerfully nodding to passerbyers, from tourists to Egyptians. The visitors edged nervously away from the girl in black, while the residents smiled, and called out 'how are you's' in Arabic, that she answered perfectly. It was after she had freaked out the fifth tourist with her serious face and black clothing that she felt a hand on her shoulder.
The same comforting presence she had felt so many years ago enveloped her on the sweat smelling street as she turned quietly, and looked into the man's dark eyes as he smiled at her, "It has been a long time, my friend."
A grin graced her pretty face as she forgot all dignity and hugged the robed man, the shape of the gold Ankh around his neck pressing into her chest briefly before she pulled away, "To long, Shaadi. I should have never left home."
He nodded, and his sharp gaze went to her wrist, "Is it still.?" She nodded, frowning, "It grows worse every day. Soon I will lose control. I must find him, my friend. But all I know is that he is in Japan!" she groaned, "Damn the world."
An amused look on his serious face, he put a hand on her shoulder gently, "Come, Neva, or is it Rei? There is much to catch up on. The sands of time have created a vast desert of which I wish to cross."
Rei chuckled, "You always had a way with words. And just for you, call me Neva again. I miss that name."
With that, the two disappeared into the depths of a building, the swirling wing erasing their footsteps.
***
"What do you mean she's not in Japan anymore?" Kaiba angrily said as his employee trembled slightly, his headset askew. It was an hour later, and the job of finding out as much information on this 'Dark Angel' as possible.
Apparently, the worker had discovered she had bought a round-trip ticket to Egypt just two days ago, and had landed just a few hours ago in a hanger a while away from Cairo. This did not make Seto Kaiba happy.
Snatching the small stack of papers, filled with information gathered from the young man, he stomped off, back to his study, back to his desk, back to the place that he could sit at for hours on end without even blinking- maybe.
His emotionless blue eyes glared at the papers. Her life was in her hands, from pictures of her first bike ride to the date of her birth. He started with the history first.
Apparently, she was an Egyptian orphan, born Neva Omshare. Her parents, an archeologist and a doctor, died in a car accident when she was 7. Neva was taken in by an unknown source, but was seen frequently in Cairo, selling paintings to tourists. Apparently, she was a prodigy in the art field, and very intelligent for her age. When she turned 14, Neva came to Japan, and changed her name to Rei. Only a year ago, she quietly began her job as a dream interpreter, continuing an online-schooling course while she worked. Currently, she lived smack dab in the middle of Domino City.
Shuffling through the papers, he glanced at her pictures, stopping at one when she was 5, taken professionally. She looked like an angel, with long, silky black hair, a serious expression in her dark eyes. For an Egyptian, she had unusually pale skin, though a little darker then, dressed in a white dress with a black sash. He smirked. Baby pictures. Good blackmail, though he really didn't see the point of it.
He went through more pictures. Rei at a merchant's stall, sketching, reading. As the pictures progressed, she grew taller, her body losing the little baby fat she had, and developing into shapely curves, her hair growing longer, face more serious. Rubbing his temples, the eighteen-year- old CEO wrinkled his brow. In each picture taken after her parents died, she wore a gold bracelet on her left wrist, several tiny charms hanging off it. Holding the photo to his face, Seto was able to make out tiny eyes of Horus dangling from it.
God, not that stupid symbol again. It was the one on that damned Yuugi Motou's puzzle. And nearly the same as Pegasus's eye. He shuddered involuntary, and flipped to the next picture that concluded the papers.
She was sitting at a piano bench, her whitish fingers grazing the keys delicately, her hair done in ringlets, clothes a tank top and skirt. Her brown eyes that had drilled into him in the other photos were closed as she played a tune, the background a finely furnished house, with crystal vases of flowers, and polished wood cabinets.
He was examining her like a piece of merchandise or a stock, noting the finer points of her body, or the quality of her skin. The cold man was always like that, though. Woman, to him, could be bought and sold in a sense. If you had money, they would be yours, and you could always get rid of them to your richer business partner when they got on your nerves.
Little did he know that Rei Neva Omshare was no stock.
*** A set of whitish fingers ran over the stone wall as Rei made her way down the dark staircase, Shaadi's torch guiding them into the dimly lit room where the stone sarcophagus rested, the hieroglyphics running across it's worn body becoming unreadable. Cocking her head, the eighteen year old examined the last item that was already claimed-the Millennium Scale.
There should be two in there, she thought bitterly, one fist clenching. Turning to her friend, she found him clutching his key in one hand, "They are all claimed by their rightful owners, Neva. But of course, some had happened."
With that, he began to tell her of what went on, and right by her own home, as well. When he finished, she nodded, "And so the confusing path on which the Items have taken those seven has started. Oh fun."
A sad smile concluded he agreed, and they turned to leave the sort of temple. As they started up the stairs, Rei turned for a fleeting glance of the place she had played in many times before, "Shaadi, sometimes." She stopped, and the Egyptian in front of her gave her a puzzling look, "Neva?"
"Every day, I ask myself.Why can't mine be in there? But it's my fate.and I accept it." Defeated by herself, Rei turned and they continued up. As they drew into darkness however, for a moment, a gleam of gold appeared on Reid's wrist.
Disclaimer- Me don't own Yu-Gi-Oh. -sniffs- But I will someday own Seto. And Jou-chan. So.yeah.-cackles-
Kenshin-chan: Don't mind her readers. She's a lunatic. Makes me were a bow tie when we have tea parties, that she does! Oro!
Author: Hush, Ken-chan, and get the bow tie. Blue one this time.
***
The plane smoothly landed down on the runway, the hot Egyptian sun causing a white gleam to blind those close enough to the flying machine. Within minutes, it had stopped easily, and unloading was already in progress.
It was a small plane, and it was hardly a proper landing pad, with only a few small buildings scattered about, the hanger containing about 6 other planes, all surrounded by an ocean of sand, the closest city being Cairo, two hours away. But it made due as the few passengers scrambled for the land, greeted by family and friends.
Except one. The one passenger stood alone, a thin line for a mouth. Even under the scorching heat, she wore all black, totally covered, in a trench coat, leather pants, and a black silk shirt, her hair, parted to the side, straight as anything, the same color as her outfit. Her skin was slightly pale, dark brown eyes emphasized by dark eye shadow, which one could see if they hadn't been shaded by a pair of sunglasses. She glanced around a moment, and started for the parking lot, not bothering to retrieve her luggage, for she carried none-except a shoulder bag that swayed with her steps, rusting against her coat, mingling with the clicking of her high heeled boots.
The girl was only eighteen, at the least, and pretty, though her presence was one of mystery and past happenings. She was tall, and graceful as a cat, a black angel whose wings arched in an invisible mass, allowing her gliding pace to go towards the far end of the lot.
She seemed totally out of place, but walked casually, though quickly, her nostrils flaring slightly as she enveloped herself in the smell of sand and wind and sun, a scent she had missed and longed for all those years. With a soft smile, she nodded deeply to a man standing beside a car, who bowed a little mockingly, saying in a rough voice, "Your ride is here as instructed, milady."
With an attractive husky rasp to her serious voice, the young woman countered with, "I thank you for driving out all this way, good sir. I do hope I will not trouble you at all." A catty smirk played on her lips before seating herself in the worn, but sturdy vehicle, which the man started silently. Eventually, he spoke again to the young woman.
"So, er, why're you wearing such heavy stuff? Hot out there.Not from around her, are you?" He turned briefly to grin curiously at her, but the reply he got was brief, "Because I'm used to heat. And I used to live her, thanks."
Uneasily, he shifted in his seat, and attempted to figure out what he had been working on the whole drive over, "Erm, well, you meeting someone?"
"Yes."
"Oh, nice.old friend?"
"You might say that."
"Uh, yeah, uh, was he the one that called for the car? Strange fellow, Puz told me."
"He is."
"Alright then."
And that's how the conversation dragged out for the remainder of an hour.
***
Seto Kaiba leaned back into his chair, a frown on his face. He had just finished the design for a new Duel Monsters piece of hologram equipment, but victory gave him no satisfaction. The expression that tugged his mouth down was so common for him, but today it should have been curved at the edges, a smirk that promised great things.
It was all because of those nightmares, he thought, cursing his sleep. For the past few weeks, he had been plagued with god-awful nightmares that had sent him into such a cold sweat. They were familiar and unrecognizable at the same time, and the memories of what they were faded quickly as morning came. What he could recall came sharply, to sharply. The same thing, a girl, the sun, a temple, and screams.it was all too weird.
He let out a quiet sigh, and shuffled the paper that lay before him on his desk, jumping nearly a foot in the air as Mokuba burst into his study. The cheerful, black haired boy bounded to him, calling, "Hey Seto!"
Kaiba rubbed his temples, "Mokuba, you scared the crap out of me! What's up?" He ran his fingers through his brown hair that grew to the nape of his neck. Two black circles were swept under his eyes, a sure sign of his problem. He wearily smiled a little at his brother, who thrust a newspaper article at him, torn from yesterday's paper.
His eyes widened a little as he examined it. The article went, as followed:
Girl Claims to Cure Nightmares
Hoe many of us are tortured by nightmares you can't remember, dreams that signify the one thing you forgot? Well, what if there was someone out there, who could record your dreams for you, interpret them-and stop them? And all this, without you even realizing she was doing something?
This is what eighteen-year-old Rei Omshare, called 'the Dark Angel' by those who have been 'healed' by her, claims to be able to do. Her skills, she reluctantly told this reporter, are different from any technology the world could possess, and then refused to give how it was different, and what exactly she did.
Apparently, according to one of her clients, Omshare sits beside you as you sleep, and sketches out what you're dreaming, and then concludes what's going on. After that, the nightmare or strange dream never comes to you again. But how does this strange girl know what you're dreaming? How could she figure out what goes on inside our minds, when our most brilliant scientists can't even conclude how to reach into the subconscious state we fall into?
As there have been no eyewitnesses to what she does to the sleepers, and Omshare icily removes herself from the public, we cannot be sure what happens, and where she gets this information. For the religious, maybe a higher power? For the skeptical, some science she has created herself? Who really knows, but the girl herself.
Seto arched his eyebrows, and gazed at the black-and-white photo beside the article. It was of a fairly tall young woman, angrily shoving her hand up in front of the camera, her mouth opened a little. It was almost too easy to imagine her shouting at the photographer to lay off. Her hair was straight as a board, fluttering behind her slightly, the picture catching her in mid-step, a trench coat flaring behind her. She was quite attractive, but the picture suggested dark clothing and pale skin. Dark Angel? She's a.Vampire, he thought wryly, and curled his lip.
Mokuba beamed at him, "Maybe you could hire her to find out what's going on inside your head, big brother!"
Biting his lip, Seto drummed his fingers on his desk, and glanced at the picture again. "I think I will Mokuba.let's track her down."
Grasping his brother in a hug, Mokuba cheered, "Finally, you'll be able to get some sleep! After all, the nightly raids for coffee to stop the nightmares were keeping me up."
Rolling his eyes, the CEO sarcastically replied, "Well, you know me, what I do is for the common good of everyone."
With that, he led Mokuba out of his study. They had to track down the vampire.
***
The car halted at the edge of Cairo, where the girl insisted to be let off. Without another word, the young woman headed off into the city, disappearing from the driver's view. Not even a goodbye, he thought sarcastically, and drove off in a cloud of dust.
Repositioning her shoulder bag, a smile came to her lips as a set of brown eyes closed. The babble of languages was the sweetest of sounds, combined with the silent heartbeats that spoke of the joy of being here in such a city. It was a symphony no orchestra could outplay.
Her feet took her on the familiar route, towards the quieter market area, where only a few merchants sold their wares, and sandy brown houses rested. Patiently, the girl stopped, humming a gentle tune, cheerfully nodding to passerbyers, from tourists to Egyptians. The visitors edged nervously away from the girl in black, while the residents smiled, and called out 'how are you's' in Arabic, that she answered perfectly. It was after she had freaked out the fifth tourist with her serious face and black clothing that she felt a hand on her shoulder.
The same comforting presence she had felt so many years ago enveloped her on the sweat smelling street as she turned quietly, and looked into the man's dark eyes as he smiled at her, "It has been a long time, my friend."
A grin graced her pretty face as she forgot all dignity and hugged the robed man, the shape of the gold Ankh around his neck pressing into her chest briefly before she pulled away, "To long, Shaadi. I should have never left home."
He nodded, and his sharp gaze went to her wrist, "Is it still.?" She nodded, frowning, "It grows worse every day. Soon I will lose control. I must find him, my friend. But all I know is that he is in Japan!" she groaned, "Damn the world."
An amused look on his serious face, he put a hand on her shoulder gently, "Come, Neva, or is it Rei? There is much to catch up on. The sands of time have created a vast desert of which I wish to cross."
Rei chuckled, "You always had a way with words. And just for you, call me Neva again. I miss that name."
With that, the two disappeared into the depths of a building, the swirling wing erasing their footsteps.
***
"What do you mean she's not in Japan anymore?" Kaiba angrily said as his employee trembled slightly, his headset askew. It was an hour later, and the job of finding out as much information on this 'Dark Angel' as possible.
Apparently, the worker had discovered she had bought a round-trip ticket to Egypt just two days ago, and had landed just a few hours ago in a hanger a while away from Cairo. This did not make Seto Kaiba happy.
Snatching the small stack of papers, filled with information gathered from the young man, he stomped off, back to his study, back to his desk, back to the place that he could sit at for hours on end without even blinking- maybe.
His emotionless blue eyes glared at the papers. Her life was in her hands, from pictures of her first bike ride to the date of her birth. He started with the history first.
Apparently, she was an Egyptian orphan, born Neva Omshare. Her parents, an archeologist and a doctor, died in a car accident when she was 7. Neva was taken in by an unknown source, but was seen frequently in Cairo, selling paintings to tourists. Apparently, she was a prodigy in the art field, and very intelligent for her age. When she turned 14, Neva came to Japan, and changed her name to Rei. Only a year ago, she quietly began her job as a dream interpreter, continuing an online-schooling course while she worked. Currently, she lived smack dab in the middle of Domino City.
Shuffling through the papers, he glanced at her pictures, stopping at one when she was 5, taken professionally. She looked like an angel, with long, silky black hair, a serious expression in her dark eyes. For an Egyptian, she had unusually pale skin, though a little darker then, dressed in a white dress with a black sash. He smirked. Baby pictures. Good blackmail, though he really didn't see the point of it.
He went through more pictures. Rei at a merchant's stall, sketching, reading. As the pictures progressed, she grew taller, her body losing the little baby fat she had, and developing into shapely curves, her hair growing longer, face more serious. Rubbing his temples, the eighteen-year- old CEO wrinkled his brow. In each picture taken after her parents died, she wore a gold bracelet on her left wrist, several tiny charms hanging off it. Holding the photo to his face, Seto was able to make out tiny eyes of Horus dangling from it.
God, not that stupid symbol again. It was the one on that damned Yuugi Motou's puzzle. And nearly the same as Pegasus's eye. He shuddered involuntary, and flipped to the next picture that concluded the papers.
She was sitting at a piano bench, her whitish fingers grazing the keys delicately, her hair done in ringlets, clothes a tank top and skirt. Her brown eyes that had drilled into him in the other photos were closed as she played a tune, the background a finely furnished house, with crystal vases of flowers, and polished wood cabinets.
He was examining her like a piece of merchandise or a stock, noting the finer points of her body, or the quality of her skin. The cold man was always like that, though. Woman, to him, could be bought and sold in a sense. If you had money, they would be yours, and you could always get rid of them to your richer business partner when they got on your nerves.
Little did he know that Rei Neva Omshare was no stock.
*** A set of whitish fingers ran over the stone wall as Rei made her way down the dark staircase, Shaadi's torch guiding them into the dimly lit room where the stone sarcophagus rested, the hieroglyphics running across it's worn body becoming unreadable. Cocking her head, the eighteen year old examined the last item that was already claimed-the Millennium Scale.
There should be two in there, she thought bitterly, one fist clenching. Turning to her friend, she found him clutching his key in one hand, "They are all claimed by their rightful owners, Neva. But of course, some had happened."
With that, he began to tell her of what went on, and right by her own home, as well. When he finished, she nodded, "And so the confusing path on which the Items have taken those seven has started. Oh fun."
A sad smile concluded he agreed, and they turned to leave the sort of temple. As they started up the stairs, Rei turned for a fleeting glance of the place she had played in many times before, "Shaadi, sometimes." She stopped, and the Egyptian in front of her gave her a puzzling look, "Neva?"
"Every day, I ask myself.Why can't mine be in there? But it's my fate.and I accept it." Defeated by herself, Rei turned and they continued up. As they drew into darkness however, for a moment, a gleam of gold appeared on Reid's wrist.