Young Blood by Mooguri Klaine

Author's Notes: Did I say I update once every week? Well, that was a theoretical assumption, and I guess I should take it back! Homework and extracurricular activities are piling up on me, and I tell ya, it was scary!! . So I have to work on them lest they'll haunt me in my dreams! ((shudders)) 'Gomen nasai' (I'm sorry) for the delay! ((bows down repeatedly))

But on the lighter note… You're now reading the fifth chapter! And it's still going! And for some odd reason, I've managed to draft out a plausible plot. YAY! ((brings out a bottle of champagne and celebrates)) And with the pacing my story's going, I guess it'll be thriving on a lot of chapters, hovering somewhere around twenty or so… Of course, this story wouldn't even be possible if it weren't for all of you READERS who tirelessly peruse my literary frustrations… , ((bows down in gratitude))

To Elusia: Hmm…so what would Bakura eventually reveal to Atem (Yami)? Hmm... :D

To swtdream07: That's sweet! Looks like you're one good sister! 'Wish my sister could do the same to me, though…She usually clobbers me… T.T

To BlackScarab: Waaaaiii! Another Anne Rice reader! Though I haven't read all her books, I am just as crazy for her characters, writing style, and yaoi-filled plots! Glad you liked my story

To uke Seto gal: Waaah! Can you write your email addy again? I tried e-mailing you, but I get a 'Failure Delivery' message! I'd love to hear your ideas!

To silver dragongurl: Yes, yes, Mahado and Ishizu are cute together!

To Misoka: Whee, hello new reviewer! Hope you received the gift art! YGO just fits the whole vampire stuff!

To LadyZephyros: And another new reviewer! nods Nice to know you're starting to get really addicted to the YGO series! I tell you this is one hell of an anime! thumbs up I'm eagerly waiting for your next update on Beyblade!

To Minor Arcana: I wish I have all the free time in this world, just as you do… cries Hehe, great work on The Reeds, The Lotus, and The High Priest as always!

Disclaimer: I WANT TO OWN YU-GI-OH! BUT I CAN'T!!! ((howls in frustration, eyes with tears leaking out like an unchecked faucet)) Okay, Yu-Gi-Oh –from its logo, to its characters, to cards, and down to its merchandise – is owned by Takahashi and TV Tokyo, and some heavy, high-profile companies. So please don't even try to sue me… You'll get NOTHING out from me, except a couple of battered sketchpads and a handful of pencils, and that's very disappointing for you. (in case you really want to sue me, of course) 'o' But, if there is something I own around here, it would have to be the story, though I have a feeling this plot is way too common in most fanfictions. But I'm not complaining. 'o'

Warning: Though Seto and Atem still have yet to cross each other's paths, you will eventually come across some shonen-ai material that will inevitably bloom to yaoi. So if you think this is not for you, torment yourself no longer! The Back Button is located at the upper left of your window for your convenience. Or in case that won't suffice, you might as well press AltF4 and be done with it. :D If otherwise, then troop in and read on! XD

Summary: An untimely awakening sends the Prince of the Night to a disheveled era unbeknownst to him, and his pursuit of a past hurls him in a conflict woven out of love, hate, passion, and death… Review and you automatically receive a prize o

-------------------

Chapter Five: Feeding

(A/N: Are you a new reviewer? Leave your email address at the Reviews Section, so I can bombard you with lots of junk mails, death threats, and an unlimited stash of forwarded messages and hopeless electronic viruses! ((cackles evilly)) )

Atem could feel his fangs brushing against his pale lips. His breathing suddenly became ragged and sharp, as his heart constricted painfully in his chest. Everything around him seemed to have started spinning, as his eyes shifted warily from one point to another, slacking off as it lost its focus.

His forehead was already shining with the imperious Eye, his power flowing unchecked in tremendous amounts. His eyes stung sharply; his vision now as accurate as ever, able to distinguish a great deal of detail from his surroundings, even in the darkest corners. His pearly fangs glinted dangerously, and seemed to have sharpened, now piercing and twice as deadly. His body clung to the new surge of sensations, as he slowly morphed and transformed into a vicious hunter. A hunter, fully equipped with a lethal arsenal coupled with the body meant for the task, ready to take life as quickly as it came.

The life of the hunt. This was his life.

All for the sake of blood, the lone source that could assure his survival. The crimson liquid that could only quench the parched throat craving for it. It was all for that addicting substance, that drove Atem's body to betray his protests against taking it, becoming an invincible assassin in a desperate attempt to satiate the perverse addiction.

"I do not want to kill!" the prince cried out. Yet his pleas were all for nothing. How many times have he uttered that statement? And how many times have he slain innocent travelers, wanderers, and beggars? How many times had he drunk the blood from them, draining it till the last drop? How many people should die so that he can live?

But the primal instinct thriving in him took full control; there was nothing he could do. Atem stood up, transfixed in a trance-like state, his faster and nimbler legs silently brushing the ground, rushing forward to where his equally-sharp sense of smell led him: to an unsuspecting victim. There was someone nearby.

Someone to kill.

Atem lifted himself up to a high place, to where he could watch his prey from afar first, calculating the exact time he should move in for the kill. He didn't make the slightest of sounds, and the victim seemed not to notice anything. The victim looked a few years physically mature than the prince, and was finishing a stick of his cigarette, the smoke rising up a few inches until finally dissipating along with the wind. The hunter licked his lips eagerly, and waited impatiently for the man to discard the stick.

And with one final puff, the unwary man flicked the cigarette butt to the ground. He watched it mounting up in the air for a brief second, and felt an unearthly pressure on his neck. He wheezed painfully and agonizingly raised up his hands to ease the foreign hands away, but to no avail. He cried sharply as piercing daggers dug into his neck and felt blood trickling down his throat. He could not grasp air anymore, and his system was dulling one by one, his eyes seeing his finished cigarette –still with a few wispy embers – meeting the wet puddle on the ground for the last time. There was a soft hiss as the cigarette's fire finally gave its life, along with its smoker.

The hunter had taken his prey.

Atem blinked, as if disoriented, and sadly looked at the fallen man, his pale eyes opened, devoid of life. "Please forgive me," he whispered as he bent down to close those blank, pitiful orbs. He held out his hand and allowed a Shadow sphere surround the mortal's limp frame.

"I never wanted to kill…" his voice trailed off.

But why did he kill?

It was because he had to; if he chose not to kill, he would die. This killer instinct – this feeding frenzy – was so hard to suppress, and yet he allowed himself to do it. Perhaps...

…he wanted to kill all along. For deep inside he wanted to live, despite his nature as a slayer. For his way to life was through the death of others. His victims cannot live while he survives. There has to be someone to go. Yet Ra, he wanted to live.

"Let me live," he said to the lifeless body, as the orb slowly vanished from his hands. "I want to live…"

"Let me live so I can see Sekheth…"

-------------------------

"You are so kind, so sweet, so humble, so considerate, so honest…"

Seto heaved out a half-tired, half-frustrated sigh. He could not, for the love of God, concentrate on his monthly sales report, due to the endless rambling going on around him. He had to review his weekly reports regarding his company's performance, discern over a dozen contracts, turn down ten magazine interviews, fire some more incompetent employees, and clear all pending transactions on his 'in' tray before Friday.

That would be tomorrow.

"…so loving, so caring, so sweet, and did I mention sweet? You're so –"

"Mokuba, are you planning to do a eulogy about me?" Seto interrupted his younger brother.

Mokuba stopped momentarily. "Nope. Why?"

"Because you sound like you're making one," he replied. "Apparently, I am still alive and well, and I am not ready to hand over the company to you just yet." And Seto was not used to being called 'sweet', 'kind', nor 'caring'. His name was not easily associated with such adjectives. Words like 'jerk', 'asshole', and 'creep' were more likely to be used. (Those who he'd heard using them on him were immediately relieved off their duties.)

"Oh, big brother, I was just going on about how kind and loving you are, allowing me to go to Isis' convention with a VIP pass, and you're even going to accompany me to that event!" He smiled fondly at the lavishly-decorated pass. Mokuba will definitely keep this as a memoir and proof to show his classmates that he was fortunate enough to meet the authoress personally. 'They'll be so jealous!' he thought.

"That's because you need a guardian; obviously, I can't let you go there on your own," Seto said.

"You're just saying that because you wanted to go there YOURSELF," And with a playful poke to the elder's rib, Mokuba raised both his eyebrows expectantly. "Maybe you might want to check out Miss Isis, huh, huh?" He grinned.

Seto let out a derisive snort. "I don't have time for that, Mokuba, you know that perfectly well." Then he frowned. "What's with that grin on your face?"

"Nothing," Mokuba lied, still smiling.

"Don't you have homework to do?" asked the older Kaiba.

"All done!"

"What about your TV programs?" Seto asked yet again. It was very hard to keep his attention on the electronic spreadsheet before him. "What about that…Yu-Gi-Oh show or something? They must be airing a new episode tonight. Why don't you check it out?"

"Yu-Gi-Oh airs at 4:30 in the afternoon. It's already finished!"

"Then, don't you have anything better to do, perhaps?" Seto groaned inwardly; his younger sibling didn't seem to want to go anywhere away from him.

"Okay, I guess I'd better use the Net, then," Mokuba said finally.

"Best idea you have ever," Seto gratefully said, standing up to escort his brother out of his room. "Just don't stay too long."

"Okay."

"No more unauthorized credit card purchases, pre-orders, and e-Bays."

"So that means you're authorizing me now?"

"Don't be sarcastic, Mokuba."

"Okay, okay…"

"And don't go to porn and gay websites."

"You blocked them off actually, so I can't access them."

"MOKUBA!"

"Geez, big bro, I was only joking…"

"I did block off the porn sites, Mokuba…" Seto shot him a suspicious and disapproving glare, arms folded ominously in front of his chests.

"I won't do anything naughty!"

"Well, you'd better not." He ruffled his younger brother's wild tangle of black hair. "Brush your teeth and drink your milk," he added.

"Will you read me a bedtime story before I sleep?"

"Mokuba…"

Mokuba held out his two fingers up in a peace sign. "Just kidding!" he grinned. He gave his brother a brief hug. "Good night, big brother."

"Good night." And Seto gave one of the rarest smiles to his younger sibling.

"Thanks for the invitation."

"No problem."

"You're the kindest, bestest, goodest, coolest, greatest BIGGEST brother any kid could ever have. You're so –"

"MOKUBA, BEAT IT! BEFORE I DECIDE TO TEAR YOUR PRECIOUS INVITATION APART!"

Mokuba gulped and ran off.

Seto sighed. 'Mokuba down, a million tasks to go…'

-------------------------

Atem fixed his eyes on a fairly-large warehouse. It was shabby-looking, along with the other run-down buildings in the vicinity. This part of the town was deserted, forlorn, and wasn't very much cared properly by the few people loitering around it. Trash bins and bigger trash dispensers lay haphazardly on the sides of the street. Broken windows, rickety stairs, old cars and other destroyed furniture and objects joined with the quiet and somehow-eerie ensemble of the whole place. Stray dogs and cats picked through the helpless heap of garbage, their bones baring through their thin flesh.

Even from the outside, one can easily distinguish the overflowing scent of blood. There was muffled music that managed to escape from the place, and the young Pharaoh could tell there must be hundreds of them packed inside the place.

Vampires.

He walked towards the decrepit structure, towards the looming entrance. He spotted two large men standing guard, both dressed in black outfits, and bedecked with heavy jewelry. As Atem approached the door, both men looked up and regarded him quickly; he could imagine their eyes raking down on him behind their dark glasses.

"I've never seen you before," the man said in a booming voice.

"I am a foreigner," replied Atem, using the mortals' new language he had recently learned.

"Yeah, you got a different accent," the other man observed, taking note of the slight difference in the visitor's speech.

"You got wonderful timing. The vampires are feeding inside." One of them led Atem in.

Loud, funky, and upbeat music blasted inside, as harsh red lights raked through the raucous crowd. There was so many cramped inside; Atem was practically bumping into everybody. Men and women were dressed in skimpy and tight outfits – some were almost naked –accessories clinging to almost every part of their body. A group of women seemed to notice the Pharaoh; they drew near and surrounded him, flaunting their large bosoms at him, rubbing it against him. The young sovereign winced slightly at the contact, for he never really liked them and their straightforward ways. These women reminded him of the pleasure slaves that danced in front of him from way back, and he wasn't just as fond of them either. A woman wormed closer to him, planting him a firm kiss on his lips, while her free hands roamed around Atem's body. He gasped in surprise, bringing up his hands to shove the person away.

"What, cutie, don't you like me?" she asked in a sultry voice, her painted fingers tracing Atem's face.

"No, I am sorry, I –"

"Oooh, he's a foreigner! I love his accent!" cooed another one of them. Atem was now twitching uncomfortably; these women LOVED to touch him everywhere.

"Are you alone, mister?" asked another, a short-haired lady.

"Yes, I do not –"

The girls clasped their hands eagerly. "Perfect!"

"You can come with us; we'll keep you company!"

"Listen, I want to see your leader," Atem shouted through the din of noises. "I wish to speak to him!"

One of them quirked an eyebrow. "You want to see our boss?"

Atem nodded. "Yes, I would like to –"

Then all of them laughed. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"No one rules over us vampires!" shrieked the short-haired woman in his ear.

Atem furrowed his eyebrow. "Impossible," he said. "You must have a common Root, your Maker!"

They were now looking at him as if his head suddenly bloated in size. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't understand, you –"

"Cutie, you don't need to trouble yourself any longer!" said the woman who had the audacity to kiss him. "Let us ease all your bodily tension; let us make you feel good!"

Atem was now losing his patience. He had never seen vampires – or even women – who acted with so much aggressiveness. Gone were the days when the Pharaoh's space was considered holy, and that subjects must maintain a strict distance away from their king. But now, unknown persons get to travel their naughty hands to equally-naughty places; they were much too close for comfort. Today's people were strange indeed. From the way they behaved, they could've been half-bloods, or humans that were turned to vampires. And yet, such behavior was still deemed unprecedented. He whirled in his place, and tried to wean away from the sexually-active group, but one seized him painfully around his arm.

"Let go of me!" Atem brushed the hand roughly away. Another grabbed his arm, tugging him forcibly. But Atem was now at the brink of cracking up. Without meaning to, he pushed the intruder instantly with a wave of his hand, his Eye flickering to life once again.

The woman shrieked as she collided with other vampires. She hissed vehemently at the Pharaoh, baring her sharp fangs at him, her fingers appearing quite like talons. Now, more vampires joined the fray, all closing their ranks on Atem. Some bared their razor-like weapons, while some brought out their guns, cocking the trigger and aiming it at the sovereign, while some clenched their fists threateningly.

"You think I would be easily deterred by your little tools?" scoffed Atem, reverting to his ancient tongue, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. They may be vampires, yet they were neither as ancient nor as powerful as he was.

The music died, and all fell silent, muscles tense and ready to deliver their blow.

A long knife zoomed towards Atem. It froze in midair, as he held a finger nonchalantly to stop its motion. It clattered noisily to the ground.

Everyone followed suit.

His Shadow powers now flowing freely from his body, he let out a loud cry, the Eye's light dazzling and blinding, and along with it came a very powerful force that sent most of the attackers crashing against walls and heavy equipment. Those in the periphery saw the unfurling events and fled from the scene, stampeding through tables and couches, breaking glasses and wine bottles, crying out with panic-stricken voices for their lives as they all rushed to the exit. It was total chaos.

The purplish-black glow danced eerily around Atem as he drew near to the panicking crowd before him. More chaotic noises.

"Honey, you can stop your tantrums now," a voice said, a hand resting on Atem's shoulder.

-------------------------

Bakura stopped in his tracks. He smiled.

"Sometimes, Atem can be so much of a show-off," he said aloud. There was no mistaking the unleashed power of the Shadow. Not even the former ruler's priests can generate such.

Perched atop on a tall skyscraper, Bakura felt the cool air lightly caressing his face. He stood on its very edge, not the least bit unnerved at the precarious height that can easily overwhelm anyone. He threw his arms wide open, meeting the soft draft of air, as if like a bird preparing its wings for an air glide.

"See, Horus, I shall fly and find you…" came his fleeting whisper. His body tilted forward, and joined with the rush of the wind, falling, falling…

Marik watched the thief's descent, his purple eyes staring and unblinking.

"Show-off," he muttered.

Then he was gone.

-------------------------

"For a handsome man, you sure have a pretty short fuse."

Atem sat on one of the soft leather couches, a bit shaken, but had considerably calmed after the incident. The place – a bar, as it turned out – was in a state of total wreck. Even Atem wouldn't know where to begin describing the damages. A few people were left inside – probably the workers – rummaging through the pile of disgruntled and dismantled pieces of furniture and appliances, sifting through it, trying as they might to salvage at least something from the rubble. Some did not bother to recover anything at all, discarding the broken instruments and junk that practically littered around them. And while everyone was getting busy, the princely youth stared impassively, crimson eyes dull, his body refusing to move and do anything, productive or not. The Eye was still up, alight on his forehead, slowly dimming, though still noticeable enough.

"Imagine how bad will this be for my business."

At last, Atem seemed to snap out of his state of limbo, and for the first time, he saw the person who restrained him from doling out the rest of his Shadow powers on the frantic crowd of vampires a while ago.

Purple eyes stared back at him with mild interest, as the said person flipped her blond locks nonchalantly over her shoulder, the lazy curls bouncing slightly, like a fleeting giggle. She was a woman, of course, and a stunning and beautiful one at that. She looked physically older than the Pharaoh, perhaps a little over twenty, but the young visage could not hide the wisdom framed in those lavender pools. But it was a different kind of wisdom, not the same with Ishizu's; this woman seemed to have seen and experienced things that can rival with the priestess herself. Whereas Ishizu was a conservative type of lady, refined in a whole deal of things and wise beyond her years, this blonde lady was a complete and stark opposite. She stood defiantly with an unmistakable air of arrogance and intimidation while dressed in an outfit meant to allure and enamour. She looked particularly scandalous, and yet there was dignity with the way she held herself. The prince had to admit, upon his short and well-probed scrutiny, this person was not someone to look down upon and underestimate. She was someone to be taken in seriously.

"Hey! You three! Get your sorry butts over here!" she called out.

The Pharaoh watched in silence as three figures walked slowly and clumsily to where he sat, looking much like children who were caught doing something wrong. The blonde woman had her arms folded, her lips taut in a frown. The apologetic looks from the group heightened another notch; all three of them shifted uncomfortably in their place.

"These are the ladies who happened to harass you, am I right?" the woman queried.

The three shuddered involuntarily as they felt red eyes slanting at their direction.

Atem nodded, his Eye still refusing to die, and was now gaining more intensity than it shouldn't have.

The woman eyed them furiously and turned to them, acrid voice dripping in her speech. "Of all the customers you managed to annoy, you bitches had the misfortune to pick a powerful bloodsucker!" The three bowed their head even lower in shame and deep regret.

"Forgive us, mistress," one blurted out.

"Apologize to our guest," the blonde woman ordered.

"Forgive us," the ladies apologized truthfully, as all of them proceeded to kneel before the sovereign. The mistress did not look remotely pleased, but speak none about it.

"Now, get out of my sight," she said. "I'll deal with you later." In an impatient wave of a hand, the women scrambled out hurriedly, choosing not to say anything lest their mistress thought otherwise.

"Sorry about that," the lady said in a surprisingly gentle and apologetic voice. "Those Harpy Ladies can be so naughty at most times. They always end up in sticky situations with the other customers." [1]

"Harpy…ladies?" Atem stared, confused.

The woman let out an easy laugh. "Oh, sorry, that's what those ladies are called here in the bar. It's some sort of nickname around here, and they're pretty notorious for that."

"I see."

"Have you only recently awakened?" came the woman's voice again, in turn, bringing a surprised look on the youth's pale face. Atem looked up. This woman seems awfully perceptive, he thought.

"You don't need to tell me as it's quite obvious," the woman said knowingly, purple eyes glinted at the prince's direction. "Vampires of all shapes and sizes flock here to my place, and each one I have seen and known very well. This is my first time to have seen you, and believe me, boy, you're not easy to miss." She pointed at the spiky locks of Atem, "With that hairdo, it's no surprise you're very much like a head-turner."

"Point number two," she continued, not missing a beat. "From the looks of it, you appear to be a very powerful vampire, and I can see the damage quite clearly and perfectly." Her eyes strayed to the dismantled stereo. "Not all vamps can dish out powers like yours…" the voice trailed off.

"Which brings me to my assumption that you're an ancient bloodsucker." She sat down next to Atem and inched closer, the distance so small they could hear each other's breaths. Then she whispered in the sovereign's ear, her lips brushing his earlobe ever slightly. "And if you're ancient, you are a Root, perhaps?"

Growing uncomfortable of the closeness he and the stranger had, Atem quickly stood up.

"You seem to know a lot of things, woman," Atem spoke, the regal tone of his voice fierce. The mistress appeared slightly unnerved, almost fearful.

"I came here for questions."

-------------------------

Much to Seto's relief, Mokuba was already asleep when he decided to check up on him in his room. The computer was left on, and more of his younger sibling's clothes were scattered on the carpeted floor. He picked them up dutifully and placed them on a laundry basket. He then moved to the table and checked Mokuba's books and some of his homework. 'At least Mokuba was true to his word,' Seto thought wistfully. He turned the computer off, and went for Mokuba's bed, where a clump of black hair can be seen amidst the tangle of sheets. Seto gazed at the sleeping form of his brother, who had his mouth wide open at the moment.

"Hello, Miss Isis, so nice to meet you," Mokuba mumbled dreamily. "My brother thinks you're pretty."

Seto snorted. Trust Mokuba to say flattering things and give the full credit to his brother. His eyes caught something in the younger Kaiba's hand. He leaned closer and saw the VIP invitation for the event on Saturday. He smiled to himself.

"Mokuba, you might crumple that," he pointed out as he fished the card out of Mokuba's hand. He settled it on top of the bedside table carefully.

"Oh no, I might lose the invitation!" cried Mokuba. Seto was a bit surprised at the sudden outburst, thinking that he had woken up his younger brother. He took a glance at him, and saw that Mokuba was just mumbling in his sleep.

"No you won't," blue-eyed Seto answered as he arranged the tousled sheets, tucking them at the sides. He patted the boy gently, and began to meander back to the door. He gave Mokuba one last look, and closed the door behind him.

"One o' clock in the morning," Seto muttered tiredly as he walked back to his room. A soft, chilling wind rattled the windowpanes, as leaves drifted by along. He opened the door to his room, and saw the French doors wide open, the wind circling the generous space. Then a sudden rush of air blew in, whooshing past Seto, the abrupt force sent the door banging heavily to a close. A resounding boom reverberated in the silent mansion, vibrating through the glasses, past the curtains, and lingering in the empty stillness of the vast house.

Seto cursed under his breath. 'That was far too noisy,' he remarked. 'Should I have the place installed with soundproof and shock-absorbing panels?' He walked in his room, and closed the balcony doors silently, locking it just in case. One could not help but to be careful these days.

Something landed with a dull thump behind Seto, causing the latter to turn suddenly, his body leaving the groggy and sleepy state, now wary and alert. He scanned his room, suspicious blue eyes straining over every nook and cranny. Until something caught his attention.

He sighed. "My nerves are awfully twitchy," he murmured, as he bent down to pick a book, the apparent source of the thump. The book had its back at Seto; he promptly turned it around.

Bold and cursive letters emblazoned the thick hardbound book, its silver letters contrasting against the jet-black and velvety jacket. It looked much more like a diary than a book.

It was one of Mokuba's books, to be exact, one of the many novels he'd confiscated from his brother's hands.

Invoke.

A fleeting look passed by Seto's eyes, misty and far-off. His thumb wandered to the edge of book, feeling the paper beneath his finger, almost as if there was some brad of magic lingering on the said material. For one wild moment, he considered opening the book and perhaps reading it. Yet he stopped in his tracks; he was already halfway through the title page. He closed it resolutely.

"I'm sleepy," he said finally as he pulled the bedside drawer open, lodging the book inside it.

"That book better stay tucked in there."

-------------------------

"Questions. Yes, you do seem to be overflowing with those, Highness." The blonde woman eyed him closely, as if appraising the proud form of the sovereign. Those blood-red eyes were the most stunning pairs she had ever seen. In fact, he was the only person –humans included – that had those color- so vivid and red, as if the very blood he drinks goes there.

"I shall do my best to answer them with as much truth and information I can provide, but I am afraid you have to fall in line and wait your turn for the meantime."

The mistress shrugged. "There are more pressing matters at hand," she waved a hand vaguely at the destroyed space around her. "Like my bar. This is bad for my business, you know."

Atem's gave a sigh and bowed his head. "I apologize."

The woman smiled. "Nah, it's alright," she said. "My bar needs renovating, anyway."

"Then I must leave and delay you no more," came the courteous tone from the prince.

"You do that."

"I have one question before I go."

"Shoot."

"Do tell me your name."

"They call me Mistress around here, but you can call me Mai." She winked at him.

"Very well, Miss Mai, I shall return," Atem gave her a curt nod. Mai blinked once, and saw him no more.

Mai stood for a whole minute before digging through her purse. She brought out her mobile phone, and punched a number.

"Yes?" a voice from the other line started.

"The Prince came, Max, just as you anticipated."

"Excellent. I'll tell my son about this."

To Be Continued

Footnotes: [1] Hihi, I was thinking of putting the Harpy Ladies somewhere in this fic. And so I did! Hope you like it! looks at my YGO deck of cards I wonder who's next in my list of cameo appearances? ((thinks)) The Mystical Elf looks pretty… ((giggles))

Author's Notes: This chapter should've been done ages ago! Sadly, reality bit me hard in the butt, and schoolwork still continues to pile high on my nonexistent 'in' tray. ((sighs suddenly breaks out in hysterical laughter)) BUT I SHALL NOT YIELD! I SHALL FINISH THIS, NO MATTER WHAT!! laughs some more

Again, your continued patronage, my readers, is the only thing that helps me all the way through, and more thanks are dished out to you Your comments matter a lot, so tell me what you think!

GOOD NEWS! I have added another drawing to my growing list of YGO fanarts! So don't forget to include your virtual address (email), so I can deliver them to you personally!

GOT REQUESTS? Suddenly, I am in the mood of dishing out works! ((voice inside my head: Huh? I thought you're busy with school?)) ((Mooguri Klaine pushes the annoying voice away)) Ehem, ehem… So if you have anything in mind – doesn't matter if it's YGO or not, so long as I know how to draw it – TELL ME! ((voice inside my head: Oh boy…))

Hey, thanks again, and I hope I see you all on the next chapter! Gee, I hope you still read my Author's Notes…hmmm…