Aria: Well, here I am again! Sorry it's taken me a while, but this is a fairly different story from any I've tried before, and this chapter in particular has taken a lot of trial and error. So, before I move on, to the reviewers:
Dillon: I'll take that rain check, if it's all the same to you. Although I could certainly use a hedgehog or two...
Tammi1: Glad you like it! It is an interesting take...I just hope it works! Besides, Joey in the show is much more aggressive than so many people write him. I just thought he'd be more IC this way...
Angel: Eep. Here's the next chapter...don't hurt me! Please! And I promise, this WILL get Joey and Kaiba together. Patience.
Saiko Senshi: Well, I'm certainly happy to be part of the planet's continuing survival.
Oklina: Enjoy! And thanks for the review.
Deaddesire: Yay for hot interludes! Joey and Kaiba aren't getting together in this chapter, so I think I'll add the interlude to hold you all over...
Emme1: Exactly. Personally, I think Joey's in better shape than Seto. He's much less repressed.
ColeyCarissa: Sorry it took a while, but here's your update.
DorothyWhainright: Thanks for the review! Hope you like this chappie too...
RESCUE
Chapter 3
Snap.
He shut his phone, leaned back into the smooth leather upholstery and almost sighed. Almost. And yet---and yet that wouldn't be right. He was single-handedly pulling the company out of potential disaster---again---and sighing was not a way to celebrate that.
But it was so tempting.
Not that he was quite out of the lion's den yet. He glanced at his watch.
2:08.
He'd left school---when? His mind traveled haltingly back over the day. He'd gotten up...swam...gotten Mokuba up...gone to school...tossed insults with the mutt...and somewhere during the morning his mind went blank.
Well, not completely blank. He rubbed absentmindedly at the bruise forming on his shin from where that idiot, Wheeler, had tripped over him. It hurt. He lifted up his pant leg to see what it looked like, and was mildly dismayed at the blossom of purple blooming on his shinbone.
Damned dog.
So it had been...what, three hours? Four? Closer to four, he thought, and his stomach rumbled.
Oh, yes. Lunch. How'd he forgotten that? He shook his head and went back over the conversation he'd just had with his secretary. The woman had been nearly crying with stress by the time he'd called his office.
"Oh, Mr. Kaiba," she'd said. "It's good you've called. There are so many messages...you have no idea..."
"Call the members of the board," he'd told her coolly. "And the lawyers. This is getting settled today."
"But Mr. Kaiba...the messages..."
He cut her off sharply, his patience, never great, waning quickly. "They're probably all from the people I just asked you to contact. Now, call them, or start looking for another job."
A pause.
"Yes sir," she'd said briskly. "I've contacted the board and the lawyers. They'll meet you in the conference room."
"Excellent," he'd said.
And snap.
He watched the scenery roll by and wondered what he'd say to the board, what any of them had to say for themselves, if the lawyers would be needed, if---
If he could get out of this one.
For a second, he felt consumed by heat; warmth running up and down his body, throbbing in the bruised shin, sliding up his back.
He shivered and closed his eyes.
He could do it. He could always do it.
Alone.
The car pulled smoothly into the circle in front of the KaibaCorp building, and purred away behind him, ruffling the edge of his long blue coat with warm air. Before him, stood the building, rising in smooth splinters of glass and steel, reflecting back sunlight and shimmering coolly in the upper air. He could hear the rush of wind around the corners, felt it snap against his lean frame. He adjusted the briefcase in his hand and walked through the circling glass doors, feeling the brush of conditioned air smooth against his stress-worn face, chilling the sweat on his body, walking past the receptionist, who quickly made a call to the conference room, pausing just outside the polished wooden door, his hand barely resting on the handle.
He took a breath.
Another.
Another.
The handle turned. He walked into a room that instantly filled with noise---men in business suits leapt from their chairs, men in business suits turned from their arguments to raise questions that buffeted him as he walked to his seat at the head of the long, gleaming table.
He remained silent, icy, aloof, his shoulders back and his back straight.
No one could see the way his knuckles whitened as he clenched the handle of his briefcase.
Laying the case down on the table, he pulled out his chair and sat in it, still silent---leaned back and waited for the uproar to die down. It did so reluctantly, as the men straightened their jackets and ties, sat back down and turned to him with expressions of childish irritation.
"Gentlemen," he said softly. He saw looks pass between them, and one at the very end of the table rose. He looked pale but determined.
"What are you doing, Kaiba?" he demanded. "Shutting down the computers? Slowing productivity? What's going on?"
Murmurs of agreement rustled softly around the table---men were nodding sullenly and not looking at him.
Kaiba folded his fingers together and stared at the man levelly. He flushed, but stood his ground, watching the CEO defiantly.
"Gentlemen," Kaiba said again, in a tone which clearly implied he didn't, necessarily, mean the word, "I've called you here today to discuss this latest attack on KaibaCorp. Clearly," his eyebrow quirked just slightly, "some of you have not been paying attention to the news." He unsnapped his briefcase, took out his laptop and brought up the link to the story. He plugged in the room's computer to the laptop and downloaded the story, then waited as each man read the story on the screen imbedded before his chair.
As the seconds ticked by, he ran over again what he already had. Not much, but it had to work. If they worked fast, they might be able to save the company, and, more importantly, the reputation of KaibaCorp.
His reputation.
He waited until, one by one, they all looked back up at him, the childish pouts replaced now by seriousness. The spokesman very slowly sank into his chair, and looked up at Kaiba wordlessly.
He quirked an eyebrow and swiveled his chair from side to side.
"Kaiba..." came someone softly from his left. It was almost a sigh. "Is this true?"
He turned to the speaker sharply. "Of course not," he said. "Our accounts, as well as what goes in and out of them, are monitored very closely. There's no way. Communications a re monitored. Everything works as part of a whole. If one thing started doing something other than what it was supposed to be doing, the whole system would shut down." I think.
The other man seemed at a loss. "But then---then---"
"What to do about it," Kaiba interjected. "That is the question that forced me to call you together today, gentleman. How to find the problem, and how, once we've found it, to eliminate it.
"For good."
* * *
His clock showed 12:20 when he finally stepped into his room, and he tossed his coat on a chair, sat on the bed.
His hands trembled.
He pulled the laptop toward him and flipped it open.
Hours, today. Hours spent arguing with corporate executives, hours spent searching through papers and articles until his eyes burned and the bruise in his leg throbbed unbearably, hours spent in the back of his car, watching the scenery flow by while he formulated plans and pinpointed weaknesses.
And then everything moved so quickly.
They'd traced the original deception to a small entertainment company with powerful friends...a company which could never be a contender against KaibaCorp without first nullifying their influence. He'd found the missing link himself, in an outgoing email from a minor employee who now no longer worked at KaibaCorp, or, indeed, at all.
His heart thudded a little hollowly as he brought up a window and typed in three names: the informant---Owen Daniels, a likable young man in publicity---, the receiver, and the technician who'd let things slip.
Enter.
The screen blinked, and a word appeared in bold across the names: BLACKLISTED.
He shut the computer with a snap and pushed it away, fell back onto his bed with a thud. He closed his eyes, feeling them burn with exhaustion. The company was saved---for now---but he had some misgivings about the whole process. It had happened so quickly, and been dealt with so brutally, that he trembled with nervous exhaustion. After finding the link, he'd swiftly brought back communications, released a statement. He could still see the firefly-flickers of the photographer's flashes behind his eyelids, burned onto his retinas. He'd assured the public that there had been a mistake, that it was being dealt with, that the persons responsible would be dealt with. Dealt with. What do you mean by that, asked one young reporter. He noted how the others fell suddenly, unusually silent. He'd fixed the young man with his coolest gaze.
I'll leave that up to your imagination, he'd said.
On second thought, he might have rather too harsh. After all, in the cutthroat world of business, things like this happened all the time. He'd dealt with it before, and always adequately. And yet---
And yet today he'd ruined a man's life, wrecked a promising young company's chances of survival. They would be assimilated into KaibaCorp without even a whimper, grateful to get away with anything at all.
He rubbed his hand over his eyes, and slapped his alarm on. Seconds after he'd crawled into bed he was asleep and dreaming.
The wind whipped around him, dragging at his arms, his legs like a lover, teasing at his coat, pulling at his clothes. How easy to just fall, to let go into the loving cold wind, out and away and down and out and down...
He leaned forward, his eyes closed. How easy, letting go.
Except it wasn't easy anymore, there was something holding him back, there was something linked around his waist, holding him back and safe and warm and wanted.
He looked down in astonishment at the arms that wrapped solidly around his waist, but his gaze was caught by a wisp of wheat-sun-autumn gold that flicked by his eye.
He turned.
Those honey-brown eyes burned.
Aria: *sighs* Finally, I got this chapter finished! I hope you all like this so far...it's so much fun to write, but it's hard at the same time because it's so completely unlike any other story I've written. Anyway, I know there's an aspect of Jou/Seto so far, but it hasn't materialized yet, but no worries! I'm writing the next chapter, and it's pretty hot. But if you want to see it in the near future, you have to leave me a review!
Dillon: I'll take that rain check, if it's all the same to you. Although I could certainly use a hedgehog or two...
Tammi1: Glad you like it! It is an interesting take...I just hope it works! Besides, Joey in the show is much more aggressive than so many people write him. I just thought he'd be more IC this way...
Angel: Eep. Here's the next chapter...don't hurt me! Please! And I promise, this WILL get Joey and Kaiba together. Patience.
Saiko Senshi: Well, I'm certainly happy to be part of the planet's continuing survival.
Oklina: Enjoy! And thanks for the review.
Deaddesire: Yay for hot interludes! Joey and Kaiba aren't getting together in this chapter, so I think I'll add the interlude to hold you all over...
Emme1: Exactly. Personally, I think Joey's in better shape than Seto. He's much less repressed.
ColeyCarissa: Sorry it took a while, but here's your update.
DorothyWhainright: Thanks for the review! Hope you like this chappie too...
RESCUE
Chapter 3
Snap.
He shut his phone, leaned back into the smooth leather upholstery and almost sighed. Almost. And yet---and yet that wouldn't be right. He was single-handedly pulling the company out of potential disaster---again---and sighing was not a way to celebrate that.
But it was so tempting.
Not that he was quite out of the lion's den yet. He glanced at his watch.
2:08.
He'd left school---when? His mind traveled haltingly back over the day. He'd gotten up...swam...gotten Mokuba up...gone to school...tossed insults with the mutt...and somewhere during the morning his mind went blank.
Well, not completely blank. He rubbed absentmindedly at the bruise forming on his shin from where that idiot, Wheeler, had tripped over him. It hurt. He lifted up his pant leg to see what it looked like, and was mildly dismayed at the blossom of purple blooming on his shinbone.
Damned dog.
So it had been...what, three hours? Four? Closer to four, he thought, and his stomach rumbled.
Oh, yes. Lunch. How'd he forgotten that? He shook his head and went back over the conversation he'd just had with his secretary. The woman had been nearly crying with stress by the time he'd called his office.
"Oh, Mr. Kaiba," she'd said. "It's good you've called. There are so many messages...you have no idea..."
"Call the members of the board," he'd told her coolly. "And the lawyers. This is getting settled today."
"But Mr. Kaiba...the messages..."
He cut her off sharply, his patience, never great, waning quickly. "They're probably all from the people I just asked you to contact. Now, call them, or start looking for another job."
A pause.
"Yes sir," she'd said briskly. "I've contacted the board and the lawyers. They'll meet you in the conference room."
"Excellent," he'd said.
And snap.
He watched the scenery roll by and wondered what he'd say to the board, what any of them had to say for themselves, if the lawyers would be needed, if---
If he could get out of this one.
For a second, he felt consumed by heat; warmth running up and down his body, throbbing in the bruised shin, sliding up his back.
He shivered and closed his eyes.
He could do it. He could always do it.
Alone.
The car pulled smoothly into the circle in front of the KaibaCorp building, and purred away behind him, ruffling the edge of his long blue coat with warm air. Before him, stood the building, rising in smooth splinters of glass and steel, reflecting back sunlight and shimmering coolly in the upper air. He could hear the rush of wind around the corners, felt it snap against his lean frame. He adjusted the briefcase in his hand and walked through the circling glass doors, feeling the brush of conditioned air smooth against his stress-worn face, chilling the sweat on his body, walking past the receptionist, who quickly made a call to the conference room, pausing just outside the polished wooden door, his hand barely resting on the handle.
He took a breath.
Another.
Another.
The handle turned. He walked into a room that instantly filled with noise---men in business suits leapt from their chairs, men in business suits turned from their arguments to raise questions that buffeted him as he walked to his seat at the head of the long, gleaming table.
He remained silent, icy, aloof, his shoulders back and his back straight.
No one could see the way his knuckles whitened as he clenched the handle of his briefcase.
Laying the case down on the table, he pulled out his chair and sat in it, still silent---leaned back and waited for the uproar to die down. It did so reluctantly, as the men straightened their jackets and ties, sat back down and turned to him with expressions of childish irritation.
"Gentlemen," he said softly. He saw looks pass between them, and one at the very end of the table rose. He looked pale but determined.
"What are you doing, Kaiba?" he demanded. "Shutting down the computers? Slowing productivity? What's going on?"
Murmurs of agreement rustled softly around the table---men were nodding sullenly and not looking at him.
Kaiba folded his fingers together and stared at the man levelly. He flushed, but stood his ground, watching the CEO defiantly.
"Gentlemen," Kaiba said again, in a tone which clearly implied he didn't, necessarily, mean the word, "I've called you here today to discuss this latest attack on KaibaCorp. Clearly," his eyebrow quirked just slightly, "some of you have not been paying attention to the news." He unsnapped his briefcase, took out his laptop and brought up the link to the story. He plugged in the room's computer to the laptop and downloaded the story, then waited as each man read the story on the screen imbedded before his chair.
As the seconds ticked by, he ran over again what he already had. Not much, but it had to work. If they worked fast, they might be able to save the company, and, more importantly, the reputation of KaibaCorp.
His reputation.
He waited until, one by one, they all looked back up at him, the childish pouts replaced now by seriousness. The spokesman very slowly sank into his chair, and looked up at Kaiba wordlessly.
He quirked an eyebrow and swiveled his chair from side to side.
"Kaiba..." came someone softly from his left. It was almost a sigh. "Is this true?"
He turned to the speaker sharply. "Of course not," he said. "Our accounts, as well as what goes in and out of them, are monitored very closely. There's no way. Communications a re monitored. Everything works as part of a whole. If one thing started doing something other than what it was supposed to be doing, the whole system would shut down." I think.
The other man seemed at a loss. "But then---then---"
"What to do about it," Kaiba interjected. "That is the question that forced me to call you together today, gentleman. How to find the problem, and how, once we've found it, to eliminate it.
"For good."
* * *
His clock showed 12:20 when he finally stepped into his room, and he tossed his coat on a chair, sat on the bed.
His hands trembled.
He pulled the laptop toward him and flipped it open.
Hours, today. Hours spent arguing with corporate executives, hours spent searching through papers and articles until his eyes burned and the bruise in his leg throbbed unbearably, hours spent in the back of his car, watching the scenery flow by while he formulated plans and pinpointed weaknesses.
And then everything moved so quickly.
They'd traced the original deception to a small entertainment company with powerful friends...a company which could never be a contender against KaibaCorp without first nullifying their influence. He'd found the missing link himself, in an outgoing email from a minor employee who now no longer worked at KaibaCorp, or, indeed, at all.
His heart thudded a little hollowly as he brought up a window and typed in three names: the informant---Owen Daniels, a likable young man in publicity---, the receiver, and the technician who'd let things slip.
Enter.
The screen blinked, and a word appeared in bold across the names: BLACKLISTED.
He shut the computer with a snap and pushed it away, fell back onto his bed with a thud. He closed his eyes, feeling them burn with exhaustion. The company was saved---for now---but he had some misgivings about the whole process. It had happened so quickly, and been dealt with so brutally, that he trembled with nervous exhaustion. After finding the link, he'd swiftly brought back communications, released a statement. He could still see the firefly-flickers of the photographer's flashes behind his eyelids, burned onto his retinas. He'd assured the public that there had been a mistake, that it was being dealt with, that the persons responsible would be dealt with. Dealt with. What do you mean by that, asked one young reporter. He noted how the others fell suddenly, unusually silent. He'd fixed the young man with his coolest gaze.
I'll leave that up to your imagination, he'd said.
On second thought, he might have rather too harsh. After all, in the cutthroat world of business, things like this happened all the time. He'd dealt with it before, and always adequately. And yet---
And yet today he'd ruined a man's life, wrecked a promising young company's chances of survival. They would be assimilated into KaibaCorp without even a whimper, grateful to get away with anything at all.
He rubbed his hand over his eyes, and slapped his alarm on. Seconds after he'd crawled into bed he was asleep and dreaming.
The wind whipped around him, dragging at his arms, his legs like a lover, teasing at his coat, pulling at his clothes. How easy to just fall, to let go into the loving cold wind, out and away and down and out and down...
He leaned forward, his eyes closed. How easy, letting go.
Except it wasn't easy anymore, there was something holding him back, there was something linked around his waist, holding him back and safe and warm and wanted.
He looked down in astonishment at the arms that wrapped solidly around his waist, but his gaze was caught by a wisp of wheat-sun-autumn gold that flicked by his eye.
He turned.
Those honey-brown eyes burned.
Aria: *sighs* Finally, I got this chapter finished! I hope you all like this so far...it's so much fun to write, but it's hard at the same time because it's so completely unlike any other story I've written. Anyway, I know there's an aspect of Jou/Seto so far, but it hasn't materialized yet, but no worries! I'm writing the next chapter, and it's pretty hot. But if you want to see it in the near future, you have to leave me a review!