Wolf: I think most of us have had to make an appearance at SCA. No worries! And that powerful an ending, huh? I must be doing something right!
Ankhutenshi: Actually, until you said it, I don't think I was even consciously aware I was trying to create different styles for the different duelists... but looking back on the duels now, it's oh, so obvious! As for Zack... well... *cue dramatic music*
Skraku: Some of us have that friend who'd gladly take us in for a little while. Those of you out there who can identify with this are quite blessed, methinks.
Lumen: It's pretty much up to the reader to decide whether or not Kyle's father really loves him. Kyle's disillusioned, either way, so it makes little difference to the plot of the story at this point. It might have bearing later, though.
Penny: Some might envy you those deep sockets! There are those people with huge doe eyes that get teary whenever just about anything happens. Like Tammy Faye Baker. ...Eww, what was I thinking? Subtract a thousand points from my score for mentioning Tammy Faye Baker.
-------
When Kyle got to Chubs's house, he looked miserable. This was not, in Chubs's estimation, a good sign, as most of his classmates tended to say Kyle looked miserable even on his brighter days.
When Kyle rang the doorbell, Chubs broke with custom and answered it himself. He could have told by the sound of Kyle's voice over the phone that something was horribly wrong; it didn't take a rocket scientist, only someone who'd known him for a while. The rough quality of his voice had disappeared. It had sounded hollow, empty, devoid of anything that would otherwise made Kyle's voice what it normally was.
Kyle was carrying a bag over one shoulder, a suitcase in his other hand, and a hiking backpack on both shoulders. All were quite obviously overloaded with possessions, and thus they were doubtlessly very heavy.
"I could really use a smoke right about now," Kyle muttered, as he stumbled through the door.
"Forget it. Get some nicotene patches," Chubs quietly scolded. He reached a hand out to Kyle's left hand, wordlessly offering to take the suitcase. Kyle gladly handed it over and shrugged his shoulder bag off, then dragged it behind him in one hand as he followed the shorter teen.
"Nah, I picked some up on the way here. The cashier asked me if I was having a good day." Kyle harrumphed. "I didn't even benefit her with an answer. It got to feeling really awkward... at least, on her part."
"It's probably better you didn't answer, though... you'd've just made her feel bad." Chubs hefted the suitcase downstairs. "Mom, Kyle's here."
Chubs's mother was sitting in the small office setup downstairs, beyond the living room. As they made their way down, she looked up at Kyle and smiled graciously. "Hi, Kyle!"
Kyle tried to offer her a smile in return – she was one of the few people he'd grown accustomed to smiling for. "Hi."
Her smile fell when she saw his expression. "Something's got you down."
He scoffed slightly. "You can say that again... but I hope you'll take no offense in my saying I'd prefer you didn't."
"None taken, of course. What's wrong?"
He sighed. "It's been a long day. Can't say I'd like to go into it just now."
She nodded in understanding. She'd had several of her own long days. "Well, I hope being here will lift your spirits."
"So do I." Kyle followed Chubs into the small guest bedroom, released his shoulder bag strap, and shrugged his backpack off.
"God, what do you have in this thing?" Chubs grunted, releasing the suitcase. It thunked heavily to the floor.
"Books," Kyle answered.
Chubs blinked. "Not school books..."
"Hardly. Just literature I've yet to read. When I was packing my things, I realized just how many books I've got and haven't read yet." Kyle opened the suitcase and revealed a selection of literally dozens of books. He picked one up. "Dante's Inferno. Never read it all the way through, and it's a classic. I got this one maybe five years ago."
Chubs sat on his heels, hovering over the books. "You've got notebooks in here, too."
"Sure do. It's most of my poetry and short stories. It may be dismal, but a couple teachers have called them brilliant." Kyle tossed Inferno back into the pile.
"Kyle, what's going on?"
"It's time I left home," Kyle said tersely. "Or what passes for home. It's hell back there, and I can't stand it anymore."
Chubs frowned. "What about money? I mean, I know your family's well-off, but..."
"I've got plenty of money saved up. My dad had the decency not to look through my mail; he doesn't know, but I've actually got two bank accounts. I always withdrew from one, never the other. Current balance on the withdrawal account is somewhere around two thousand. Balance on the savings account is about seventy-five thousand."
Chubs blinked. "What? How could you have saved up that much without anyone knowing?"
"I've sold a lot of stuff I didn't need throughout my life. It's about the only way to permanently get rid of stuff you don't want back; give it to someone who wants it." A side of Kyle's mouth quirked, the closest he'd gotten to a smile since he arrived. "If there was one thing my parents did, it was to make sure they spared no expense to keep me entertained. I guess maybe they thought that would make me love them."
Chubs wasn't even sure he wanted to know what Kyle had sold to earn himself that much money. "I guess that explains how you got all your tattoos, then?"
"Nah, that was withdrawal. Like I said, I've never taken money out of the savings account. Interest racks up on it real fast. It's tough to hide when tax day comes along, but I've been able to manage for a couple years now. I know how to fill out my own tax forms at this point; before I knew, though, I paid a company to do it for me. Easier that way. They handled that account while I went over the withdrawal account with my parents."
Chubs digested this information for several moments. "So... what're you gonna do now?"
"About...?"
"Well, moving out would be the obvious first part," Chubs snorted. "We like you, but I'm pretty sure Mom's not going to let you stay here forever. And school, what'll you do about that, what with all this moving going on? College, that kind of thing."
"I'll finish out my senior year here, and then move on to college, as planned. I applied to a whole array of colleges, including some my parents weren't exactly... pleased with me applying to." Kyle scoffed. "Not like they had a choice in that matter, though. I found the acceptance letter to the college I really do want to attend in the trash. They hadn't even opened the letter. But I've already been accepted to that college, so I'll attend that one, come time for that. As to moving out, I'm gonna start looking for an apartment and get a few change-of-address forms. And then I'm gonna look for a dermatologist and see about tattoo removal. My arms are hideous."
Chubs emitted a semi-amused snort. "Took you this long to figure that out?"
"Thanks, I appreciate the support. And..." Kyle sat down on the bed and sighed. "I'm gonna get a lot more hardcore about Duel Monsters."
Chubs raised an eyebrow. "Not that I'm not happy about that or anything, but can I ask why?"
"Because it's about the only hobby left me that provides me with any stability." Kyle opened his backpack and removed his card binder, then looked back at Chubs. "Before it was just watch and learn. Now I need hands-on learning. Duel me and show me what I need to know."
"You've lost to me almost every time we've dueled. Those times you've won, it was by a bare margin."
"I know. That's how I've learned what I have. I'm getting better."
"You are," Chubs conceded. "Still, you've got a lot more learning to do to beat me."
"I know," Kyle said again. "And I want to learn."
Chubs thought about this for several moments. "You sure this is what you want? Even the most up-to-date rulebook can't tell you everything you need to know."
Kyle nodded. "Yeah, it's what I want. It's a challenge, that's why I want to meet it. If I can win at Duel Monsters... maybe I can start winning at life."
--
Thusly, Kyle's intensive training in the art of Duel Monsters began. They skipped the tournament the next day, instead devoting themselves to studying both their schoolbooks and Duel Monsters. Over the next week, Chubs and Kyle both pored over the vast knowledge that websites and rulebooks and strategy guides could provide them. Every day, at least an hour was spent on learning a little more about the complexities of the game, what cards worked best in strategies... whatever they needed to know in order to become better duelists.
Even their classmates took notice of Kyle's sharp focus. It was even sharper than before... more clear-headed. He wanted to learn, wanted to find a way out of the dismal life he had for himself.
Over the next week, Kyle went through the tedious process of getting his most prized possessions out of the house he'd once called home. Most of what he got out, he got out through the window of his room, whose door he kept locked full-time. He obviously couldn't get his furniture out through that window, but it made little difference to him. At one point, when neither of his parents were home, Kyle had Chubs and Zack help him in the bold venture of getting the majority of his possessions out; a friend of Zack's happened to own a truck, and once he was told the situation, he'd been eager to support Kyle's decision. Some furniture made it out the door, including his disassembled computer desk and a small bookshelf. The bed and the drawers, he left behind; he did the same with the majority of his clothing.
At the same time, Kyle searched for, and managed to acquire, a small apartment on the other side of town. It was a tiny deal, one-person, only one window... but it was, nevertheless, a place for him to be able to call his own. He gladly paid the security deposit and three months' worth of rent on the place. He also gave a huge advance on the utilities. Then, he filled out the required change-of-address forms at the post office.
I'm not the scared, lost little boy I used to be when Jason died, he thought defiantly, as he, Chubs, Zack, and Zack's companion took the last of his desired possessions out of the house. I'm going to take my life and live it the way I should have been living it all along... my own way.
The Friday after his last argument with his father was the day he'd taken his friends on this last, giant spurt. He'd not seen his parents since. He didn't expect to. He hoped he wouldn't.
On his way out, he made sure his room's door was unlocked and wide open, so that his parents could see it for themselves. The room was spotlessly clean, possessed only of a neatly made bed, a dresser full of well-folded clothes, and a closet full of suits and toys. There were no messes underneath the furniture. There was no whine of an active computer.
On the bed were his keys – to his room, to the cars, to the house.
He was gone. And there was no way they were going to make him come back.
--
Kyle didn't even bother to look back at the place as the truck pulled away. He was sitting in the bed of the truck alongside his things, tolerating the brisk breeze of a pre-spring afternoon. Chubs was also there, sitting in the other corner, staring at his friend.
The stout sophomore shook his head. "Kyle, my friend, there are some things about you that scare me. But this, this thing you're doing here... this scares me right to the edge."
"Well, no one said you had to help me out," Kyle answered blandly. "I asked your help, and you chose of your own will to give it. Even if you hadn't, I would still have done this."
"I know. But who's to say your parents won't come looking for you?"
"They won't, not in the district where my apartment is. It's too seedy for them. That's the point." Kyle smirked. "I know exactly where my parents will go and won't go. I've stuck myself in around the people they least want to know. The 'hoodlums.' Also known as people who don't earn twenty-five thousand a year. The area's dirty, some of the locals are unethical... it's enough to drive them off. And for all they know, I'll have romped to another state."
"What if they come looking for you at school? They still control your lower education."
"Actually, they don't. I'm eighteen, a legal adult. If they choose to pull their funding for me, then I'll pay for it myself. As for if they come looking for me..." He shrugged. "Maybe there are some things that just can't be avoided. But this is my decision, and they've got no right to interfere in it now. So they can either learn to live with it or sulk the rest of their lives. But I'm not playing to their tune anymore."
Kyle leaned back into the corner of the bed. "You worry too much, Chubs. I'll be fine, you'll see. I could never make my parents proud of me, but I'm gonna make me proud of me. At this point, I'm quite proud of me."
"Good to know."
--
Time passed. The rest of March came and went. Kyle made the decision to quit smoking, and his new lifestyle wasn't interrupted by his parents at any point during the remainder of that month. He got himself settled into his new apartment rather comfortably, and he soon found himself in the midst of a routine.
After school, Kyle sauntered into the annex casually, plucked his mail from the mailbox designated for his room, sat down at his desk and shuffled through his mail. His apartment was in a seedier neighborhood, but it got him away from his parents. He knew that telling his parents off was not going to automatically solve the problem... that they'd remain convinced a profession in the medical field would be in his best interests.
Maybe my absence will knock some sense into them.
The mail was neither numerous in number, nor interesting. Two bills, a free credit card application, a copy of his high school transcript, offers for membership in Duel Monsters fan clubs...
Kyle rolled his eyes. Better establish what I want and don't want pretty quickly.
He opened up his newspaper and scanned through it. Most of the items were of local or national interest, and that was mostly the same song and dance... murders, court cases, political digression.
His interest was piqued, however, upon reading the headline " 'Game' Sets Lethal Fire to Death Row Escapee". Well, well... what have we here?
DOMINO, Japan (AP) -- A lethal game involving a bottle of Russian vodka and a lit cigarette has left an escaped Death Row criminal dead.
At 3:24 P.M. today, the infamous Japanese criminal Sasaki Tetsuoto was pronounced dead on the scene at a local fast food store. The cause of his death was extreme chemical burns inflicted to 65% of his body.
At approximately 12:50 P.M. today, Tetsuoto escaped from the West Domino Maximum Security Detention Facility of Japan after fatally beating one guard and seriously injuring several others with a stolen revolver.
According to police, Tetsuoto eluded capture for nearly two and a half hours by hiding in the dense woods outside the detention facility and eventually making his way into the city of Domino.
Reportedly, Tetsuoto made his way to a local fast food store, where he took one hostage and demanded food and cigarettes. Tetsuoto subsequentially ordered the other occupants of the store to lie on the floor and cover their eyes, threatening his hostage's life.
Despite this, witnesses drawing upon their auditory recollection claim that a customer approached Tetsuoto and recklessly challenged him to a bizarre game. Witnesses claim items used for this game included a full bottle of Russian vodka and a cigarette lighter.
Initial police reports state that the contents of the bottle were spilled across Tetsuoto's table and lap, and that a lit cigarette ignited the vodka, comprised of 90% alcohol, and caused a chemical fire that burned Tetsuoto to death.
Police reports indicate that Tetsuoto's body was so badly burned that they required his dental records to verify identification.
The customer that offered the bizarre challenge to Tetsuoto remains anonymous. Police refuse to speculate on the customer's identity, or even if the exchange truly took place.
The fast food store's management commented only that after this incident, they would ensure the installation of security cameras.
Tetsuoto was sentenced to death in Tokyo last year on multiple counts of arson, rape, and murder. His execution was scheduled for next month.
Kyle stroked his chin thoughtfully. I'll bet there's more going on here than meets the eye.
...king...Shadow game...
Kyle sighed. He had dealt with this voice for a while now, and he was about ready to go into therapy. The only thing stopping him from doing so was the fact that he would have to admit to doing something highly immoral and illegal: grave robbing. He wasn't sure what a psychologist would do with that information.
He clutched his pendant protectively. Call me crazy, but this thing's my good luck charm. Ever since I came back, I've been changing. I'm realizing what I've done to myself. Makes me feel a little more... human.
Kyle sighed. Hot in here. He strolled over to the air conditioner and turned it on, then removed his jacket. This was the only place where he allowed his tattoos to show anymore.
That reminds me... I need to make an appointment with Dr. Hayden to schedule removal of these things. His face scrunched as he spied the black barbed wire pictures etched into his skin. Hideous.
...Shadow...
Huh. Never thought about that. What I was was a darker form... a shadow... of what I have the potential to be.
...game...
I was playing games with my family. Trying to get their attention. Trying to show them that I didn't have to be what they wanted me to be. But it was childish, screwed up... sick. I didn't have to do all that to myself. All I had to do was leave, but I didn't have the courage to do it.
Not until we came back from Egypt.
...Egypt...home...
I came home from Egypt, and I had this new sense of confidence. Guess dodging a few bullets will do that to you. But I took this voice with me. And now I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do... I've disowned my family and taken up residence in about the wrost area of this town. I suppose I'd better start job-hunting; I may have a lot of money, but it won't last me forever.
But before I even start that up, I need to make sure I'm presentable when I walk in with a resume. I'd best get to grooming.
Kyle finished reading his newspaper, then grabbed his wallet and keys and left.
He felt his hands shaking slightly as he mounted his motorcycle. He sighed. I could really use a cigarette right about now... but no. I'm finished with that. Nicotene patch or something, but I'm never putting another filter to my lips. And I'm gonna burn all the clothes I've got that smell of smoke.
...burn...pain...fire so hot...
Kyle shrugged at the voice. Well, hey, withdrawal can make anybody go crazy. Too bad you were around before I decided to quit. Otherwise I could blame you on the withdrawal.
...fire...pain...burn...
The words had an obsessive ring in his head. He guessed that whatever the voice was, it had a morbid fascination with fire.
He chose to ignore the voice, for the moment. Okay, so a box of nicotene patches, some new clothing, a little food... what else? Hn, guess I'll figure that out along the way.
...burn...pain...hot...
Kyle revved his motorcycle and made for the nearest store.
--
Kyle's trip through the local convenience store wasn't very interesting, and that was the way he preferred it. He thought it best to try to keep a low profile in places like this, especially considering his parents.
Strange, they haven't yet gone looking for me. One wonders if they really did care at all. Or maybe they'll try to launch a surprise attack on me. Bleh. That'd be just like them, too. I could see them doing that. "Kyle, come back with us right now, because you're sure not going back to that hellhole you call a home!" Joke would be on them.
He collected the items he'd come here for, then approached the cashier to pay for them. As he approached, however, his eyes were greeted by a familiar face in another lane.
Monica? Here? Wow. Wonder what's got her so far down on the totem pole these days, for her to resort to a place like this...
That was when he noticed her right eye. It had been badly bruised. Her attempt to hide it with makeup had been valiant, but it was still obvious... at least to him, who'd had a chance to see a few black eyes in this neighborhood.
He frowned. What's going on there? Why would Monica, of all people, have a black eye?
She was facing down, not making eye contact with anyone. That she wasn't making eye contact in itself wasn't so strange – it was the looking down part that forced Kyle to wonder further. Someone hit her, maybe?
He felt the urge to call out to her, to go over to her, to talk to her... to do something.
But before he could even try to make up his mind, her head craned just slightly upward, and she gave a quick, furtive glance around the store.
She spotted him. Staring at her.
Her eyes widened, and she looked back down at the floor, slight color rising to her cheeks.
"Sir? Your total is thirty-seven ninety-two."
Kyle blinked a moment. "Huh?" He glanced back at the cashier, who was looking at him expectantly. "Oh! Right." He pulled out a pair of $20 bills and handed them to her. "Sorry about that."
"No problem, sir. Two-oh-eight is your change, have a nice day."
"I'll give it a shot." Kyle picked up the bags his groceries had been placed in and gave Monica another glance.
She was already hurrying out the door, not looking up and certainly not in the mood to talk to anyone – Kyle McCraine, least of all.
Kyle's frown deepened as he followed her out the door and watched her quickly drive away.
What's happened to you, Monica?
...pain... hurt...
Yeah... she's been hurt... but by who?
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Suggestions, reviews, even a couple rants (relating to this story) would be welcome! Just click that little "Go" button and help me out! How am I doing? Up next, Kyle tries to find out what's going on. Plus, Kyle's eyes play tricks on him when he meets a veteran duelist. Stay tuned!