Oh, sorry if that last ending was so cliffy! I didn't mean for it to be, it's just that what I wanted to say and to elaborate on was too long to fit n the last chapter. So sorry if you were put off a cliff—(runs to cliff, nooo! My wonderful reviewers and readers! Come back! I've updated now, it's safe to return!) By the way, this fanfic takes place in America, if you haven't figured that out by the English class in the last chapter, but only because I know all the laws here and how things are run. Besides, the name are American-ized…I'm so sorry if this isn't your favorite setting, but it made it easier to write. I don't know how to show those line breaks in the story, but they're sort of supposed to be there so I'm sorry if it seems like the stories going kind of fast or something, but I don't know how to make them show up, (which is an invitation for anyone who does know to help the poor author, just so you know).

Response to you lovely reviewers:

Flame Swordswoman: You were the first, again! You are such a loyal reviewer…(hugs)…Thanks! This story looks promising and you want to continue reading it…aww…(cries)…I thank you! Seto is only fun to write about when he is in character, don't you think? Besides, I love first person POV the best and writing about Seto…well…couldn't resist leaving him in character. Thanks again for liking my story, (always the best review comment). Oh, don't worry, Joey will be in this chapter very much. I promise, (cross my heart hope to never write again, lol). Thanks for your loyalty and I can't wait for your next review!

Fire Kitten: WHOA! Put the sword down…I'm sorry about the cliffhanger, but this part was too long to put into the last chapter…put it down…don't hurt anyone with that, you don't know your own strength! Fine, I'll have to respond at sword point. My writing suites Kaiba. Thank you! I try to get into his character when I write, like, "How would he react, really?" Being obsessed with him helps, lol. And yes he despises his uniform. It's not a trench coat, it doesn't have chains or spikes, it's not made of metal, and it's not black. Why would he like it, lol? Oh…I failed the Yugi Test. Oh…(cries). He's hard to depict. I'll try to explain myself as best I can, but let me start by apologizing: So sorry if that irked you! He doesn't seem like the late type? Hmm…he sort of does to me…he was late to school in a lot of the YGO episodes, so I assumed… Whatever, not important. The way he talked was girlish and preppy and weird, (the "like" thing…ehe?). Hmm…ok. That can be revised, but I'm leaving it in the last chapter. You see, Yugi doesn't have a huge part in this story so it doesn't really matter how bad I make him, but I just wanted to have him stabilized in the last chapter, you know? I'm sure you do. But I'll take your advice and I promise to make him better whenever he appears next, kk? Joey. He's so so so so so so so hard to write. Really. I over-dramatize him so badly sometimes. Blah me, (and that's why he had a kind of short part). As a result, I tried to describe him by using visuals and of course how Kaiba felt about him. It just lets the reader know he's there and where he stands, sort of…I hope so. Lol, the messy uniform is so totally him. You think you know what's going to happen? Hmmm…well, you'll have to read this chapter to find out. Now just put the sword down…I updated...relax, now…and do review!

Xaio-Darkcloud: OMG! You reviewed! Thank you, thank you! Kaiba+sword+mafia+yaoi. Put them all together and what do they spell? FUN FOR YOU AND ME! Ok, that was lame, I'm so sorry. But thank you for reviewing and I hope you keep with it, I so love hearing what you have to say!

Warning: This story contains yaoi, if it's not your thing and if you've missed the last warning, I beg of you to tread back!

Disclaimer: I do not own YGO.

Chapter 3: Death and Life

The dentists agency/office/Mafia Meeting was not remotely located near the school or even Domino City, (you may realize how perfect this was considering I had only ten minutes to get there before everything I had strived for was terminated, and knowing them, they would up hold their promise to the last second). So, I decided to stop by my home again and get a ride. Rather, I should clarify, I ran home.

Picture this: Seto Kaiba, (infallible CEO of a multi-billion dollar company, respected and feared by almost all who met him), running—after successfully ditching the school he went to at 4:27 in the morning—back home as if the very devil was at his heels, (which, ironically, was not far from the truth, if you consider the people making me commit this act of self-degradation). This is not a joke, either.

Calling for a limo to pick me up might seem like the logical decision. Think again. If I were to get a ride to this meeting, my driver would be able to name the connection between me and the office and, thus, the mafia if anything changed, (namely, if I was caught or found out or if they were suddenly up-ended). I couldn't take the risk, also, of drawing attention to myself by taking a limo and risk another connection to me and them, (and just for the record, license plates are a pain in the ass).

How to solve this dilemma? Drive my own car? So slow. I had less than seven minutes to go, (yes it took me a little over three minutes to reach my house).

I went into my garage and searched for the black motorcycle I would be taking to the meeting. I only had one it was probably as inconspicuous as I could find: All black with a fake license plate and a top speed of 800 miles per hour. That would get me there in time.

Wasting not a minute, I fished out my keys and threw on a dark trench coat to hide my uniformed appearance, (I kept a trench coat hung up on the wall for just such an emergency if you can believe that). My helmet was like a shield between me and the rest of the world. Perfect. I slapped it on and walked the bike out of the garage.

As soon as I came to the street I was off.

I think I broke about ten traffic laws on my way to the office. The first one was my speed limit, (about 80 mph on a 65 mph road). Second, "weaving", (which is so much easier to do in a motorcycle than in a car). Third, I rode in the HOV lane on a single-person motorcycle, (oh, the horror). I blew six red-lights, (which are my fourth, fifth, six, seventh, eighth, and ninth violations), and I pretty sure there was a stop sign somewhere at the end that I took no heed of.

So if I didn't get caught for being a hired hit man I would get arrested for reckless driving. How perfect.

I pulled up to the office with a loud whhhiirrr of my motorcycle. Shutting it off, (and resisting a temptation to kiss it, for I had made the dead line with 49 seconds to spare), I removed my helmet and looked around at the deserted area. The office was located in a town that would be the least likely place one would expect: A dilapidated town way outside of Domino called Superiorstown, (ironic, yes). This town, as the rumors go, was once a profitable crime zone area where many criminals took shelter back when many buildings sprouted all over the area and actual innocent citizens shared their homes with criminals. It was a slum. There are stories that drug connections staked more than one spot in the town, (a dangerous combination when mixed with criminals). Eventually, a drug war caused the ruin of the town from a particularly nasty fight that resulted in the use of explosives and it was diminished to a single dentist's office, conveniently where the mafia should choose to hold their meetings once and a while whenever they felt like it was safe. I don't know how much of the story you believe, but as for me, I believe half of what I see and none of what I hear. I think the tales are shit. But I really don't care either way.

I stepped off my motorcycle and brought it up to the door with me; I had to leave it someplace safe where no one would be convinced they could steal it. The inside of the building seemed safe enough.

I knocked on the door with the preordained knock that told them that their assassin had arrived in response to their summons. Nonetheless, a guard peered through the eye-hole and looked me up and down.

"Enter," the gruff voice from the call said through a crack in the door. "But leave your bike by the door."

"Sure thing," I responded. I entered bike first.

The doorway of the office was devoid of lights, cramped, and smaller than a closet. I didn't see the man who was called Puppet, (which makes sense considering he was one of their thugs), but I could hear and smell his breath in the enclosed space and I felt his aura of silent fury at my refusal to comply with his request.

"I said leave your bike outside," the voice in the dark grunted.

"I prefer to take it with me." I didn't have to listen to him, he was not my employer, the five gangsters inside were.

"Put it outside." His voice had grown sharper but I was not in the least bit afraid.

"No."

"I said to you: put your goddamn bike outside or—..."

He was interrupted by the voice of one of my employers in the room just outside the doorway. "Leave him. He won't listen to you. He doesn't listen to anyone. Come inside, Seto Kaiba." His voice carried in from a lighted room straight ahead.

Let me give you some information about my employers. There are five of them, (four men and alas one woman), in the gang and their names are as follows, in order of rank: Gustov, D.B., Jacques, Armin, and Fredrick. Gustov is the quiet, unspoken power of the gang. Everyone answers to him and no one disobeys him. I have heard it said that he can render a man chock full of bullets in under ten seconds. To me, he looks like he's been doing a lot less shooting and a lot more eating, he is very fat, but I dare not tempt him. What do I care, as long as I have my assignment and thus my life? D.B. is the one woman of the gang. She used to be assassin, like me, but for different reasons. You see, she enjoys killing for obscene amounts of money. I still think she still kills people on her off hours, just not in this country to avoid any links to her murderous family. At four-foot, six-inches with hair and skin lighter than a bowl of milk, you'd think she was an angel. But in truth she is one of the most deadly women in the world. Jacques is the source of supplies in the gang. You want something, anything at all, he can get it, (for a price, of course). He rarely ever talks to me; he thinks I put a damper on the pride of his group. Just say the word, Jacques, and I'm out of here so fast you'd think I'd be riding a motorcycle, (but then again I would be). Armin is the master mind of the gang. He thinks of ways to get revenge or how I should kill someone, in other words. He does not speak English, (but fluent German), so usually D.B. translates for him, (although I know German and they have figured this out by now, so). Armin also runs the mafia in Germany, I'm told, and he only works in this one for power. It seems like a waste of time, but he says that he frequently spends time here in America so it helps his status immensely. I don't see it but I'm also not really looking. Fredrick is the hand of the mafia. He gets everything done that they do not want to do, except for the killing, which is my job alone. I asked them why D.B. couldn't do a few assignments and she said, in that accent that wasn't English or American but was impossible to discern by her mysterious name, "Because you are the pawn and I am the queen." She knew of my past, why I would hate the chess allusions, and I silently vowed to make her pay one day. I still uphold this vow, but it has since expanded to include them all.

You will soon find out why.

"Come inside, Seto Kaiba," Fredrick invited.

Taking my bike beside me, I slowly entered their room. It was a dark room, with only one fluorescent light shining mercilessly down on us, (I'm told this was to ward off any "snoops"). All five of them sat around a table in their usual seats. When I walked in, none of them said hello, but just stared at me over their cigarettes or cigars and blew smoke around the room. Immediately, I was acutely aware of the other Puppets in the corners.

No one said anything, just smoked and smoked. Fine then, I would. I didn't have time for this. "You summoned me for a reason, I assume?" I tried my most stable, emotionless voice.

Smoke flew around with the words, "You assume correctly. We have another assignment for you." Fredrick managed to talk from behind his cigarette.

Surprise seeped into my bones. I was not expecting this. I had just completed an assignment last night. "So soon?" I asked.

"Yes, you see this is a very urgent assignment. It cannot wait."

I have to admit that under my surprise intrigue was setting in. "Well, what is it?"

D.B. exhaled a ring of thick, gray smog from her nostrils. She unfurled her accent in full bloom when she said, "We will give you more information on this one than usual, for you see it must be taken care of immediately."

"Just tell me what I have to do."

"In a hurry?" Armin's German swept the room and he smirked at me. I choose not to answer this, but I was in a hurry. I could still make the end of lunch period if I hurried.

But that was not going to happen for then Gustov himself spoke up, "This assignment will be on a man younger than yourself, but he lives in your town and goes to your same school."

What? Oh well, one kid down in school couldn't hurt. I hated them all, anyway. But why were the five of them suddenly picking on kids? "So, stooping so low as to hurt a child, are we?" It was my turn to smirk.

"Actually, we won't be the ones harming him. You will," Fredrick reminded me. Goddamn, I walked right into that one.

Gustov continued in his deep, robust voice, "The name of your victim is Joseph Wheeler."

A hand reached into my throat and strangled my breathing. I wanted to say something, but I was at a total loss for words. The mutt?

Luckily no one noticed my suddenly breathing restrictions and the fat man continued on, the anger restraint in his voice apparent, "You see he has…learned of our society, you see." The mutt had deeply irked Gustov. He said "you see" twice.

D.B. picked up the conversation. "Obviously, this is a problem, and he must be taken care of without any hesitation. We just can not be sure of what he will do with this information of our family. It is better if he does not live to make a choice."

I tried to figure out what I would say. So many questions were pounding through my mind…how had he found out? When, why? Could I even bring myself to…do that to him? Did I even have a choice?

I forced my mouth to open and suck in smoke-filled air. I was going to pass out if I didn't breathe soon. Once I had a nice gulp of second-hand smoke I asked them, "How did he find out?" It was the first question on my list, and I figured that if I could just learn of what he did I could think of a way out…but it was so stupid of me to have hope.

"Glad you asked," Armin piped up. "We have photographs of him entering our facility two night ago—.."

"He found his way here? How?" I was not as stable and emotionless as when I first entered.

Without answering, Armin reached under the table and pulled out a pile of colored photographs. "Look at these." He handed them to me and I took off the rubber band, careful not to bend them in any way.

In the pictures, Wheeler was hiding behind the door that led to this dark room. He was peaking through a crack with those big, annoying chestnut colored eyes, (why did I know he had chestnut eyes? Maybe it was the way they were sparkling in the silhouetted light from the room), wide with amazement. Another picture showed him running away, fleeing like a frightened dog, but…his hair…it was the same yellow color, but it was neat…Weird of Wheeler to do that, actually comb his hair. I thought he was afraid of grooming instruments.

A thought struck me. I voiced it carefully, strategically. "How did you find out the name of him?" I asked.

Gustov answered, "Well, we took those photos, (and you might be wondering how we managed that, as well, you inquiring Kaiba), the second time he came. We were ready for him that time, expecting him to come back, like all curious boys do. And when he arrived again, we snapped these photos, frightening him and he ran away. So we put his image through the internet and he was the closest match we could find."

Amazingly that sounded very plausible. I could picture Wheeler seeing and disbelieving, (or believing and wanting to come back), and then getting caught in his own prank. Maybe that's why he even combed his hair, to make himself less noticeable. No…maybe I was just over-estimating Wheeler. Either way…hmm…well, I was probably wrong.

And it didn't even matter what I thought. My assignment had been given and I couldn't refuse it. Wheeler would have to die by my hand.

But hadn't I just seen him twenty minutes ago? He didn't seem any different from his usual self…maybe he didn't know what he had stumbled on. Besides, how could I ever go back to school knowing I had killed the ever-present Wheeler?

Why the hell did I care?

I don't know, but I knew that this was one assignment I didn't think I could do. Wheeler was a constant source of anger for me, but there was that likeable anger that I thought so much about…if I killed him that wonderful anger would go away and what would I have? A company, Mokuba. But not the anger… Oh, fuck it, I couldn't do this one.

"Listen," I began, summoning the strength I still had in me, "I can't do this assignment. Get someone else."

My words hung in the air like an empty shot fired from a rifle. It clicked, but nothing came out. No result.

"You see, Seto Kaiba," Gustov began again, leaning back in his chair and lighting a new cigar. "You really can't say no. We have the power to destroy your company and your brother and basically everything you live for. So, unless this Joseph Wheeler is more important to you than your life, I suggested you comply."

I took a deep breath and tried one more thing that I knew wouldn't work but had to try, "Get D.B. to do it."

She put out her cigarette on the metal arm of her chair. It burned a black hole into it among many others. "It is not my job, hit man. It is your job. You do your job and I'll do mine." She looked at me after she said this, with her piercing green eyes that contrasted greatly with her pale skin. I knew I was not going to get anywhere. It was over before it started.

"You will do the job tonight. Here is the report we managed to get on him in the two days. Read it carefully as always and we'll call you later today with the time." Gustav exhaled loudly, a mile of smoke leaving his mouth.

I nodded, taking hold of my bike and turning away.

"Oh, and Seto Kaiba?" Armin pestered in his derogatory German. I turned back with a look of death on my face. "Have a nice day."

The five of them laughed and I shook my head, leaving them to choke on their own smoke.

The report on Wheeler was very thorough. I found out a lot about him that I didn't know, or care to know, really.

His parents were divorced and he lived with his father, who was an alcoholic and one of those perpetually drunk bastards you hated but did nothing about, (it explained a lot about why Wheeler was always out of the house and disrespectful). His mother and sister left when he was about eight-years-old. They lived outside of Domino somewhere. His sister once needed an operation for her eyes, cataracts were destroying her vision and she would have been blind had it not been for Wheeler who came second in the Duelist Kingdom tournament and got the money. I think I actually remembered something like a formerly blind sister from my own tournament. Interesting.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about Wheeler was where he lived: Downtown. Now, let me explain. Downtown was sort of like a "not nice" place to live as I would describe to Mokuba. Gangs and rundown buildings were the only constant things in that place. I warned Mokuba never to go down there without me and it was one of those things where he listened without asking, "But, why, Seto?". I wondered how I would travel there and kill without being noticed, but then I realized, if Wheeler was killed in such a tough place, who would care? Sad but true.

And that raised another issue. How would I kill Wheeler? Could I do it the normal way by just chopping off his head like he was some poor fool who crossed the wrong people? Oddly enough, the mere thought of me ending Wheeler's life was enough to make me feel very sick. I wished I had one of those jobs where if you didn't feel well you could call in sick. But no. I had one of those professions where if you say you can't or won't do something the next day you're forced to call in dead.

But all of that aside, I knew of the hardship I faced. Somehow I felt like this would be one of the toughest jobs I would ever do.

I couldn't have been more right.

At 9:00 in the night, I was sitting at my desk in Kaiba Corp. after having done no homework and gotten no more rest. The problem of the night's work had been bouncing around my mind for what seemed like forever. I was so worn down by it, that I didn't even hear Mokuba telling me he was going to bed.

I sat with my head in my hands thinking of the pointlessness of all living. There would always be someone out there with your number no matter how good you lived, just like Wheeler who wasn't necessarily bad, just stupid enough to stumble on a gang-meeting. Twice... God, my head hurt like a bitch…Jesus…

Suddenly, I was being prodded by a small hand. "Seto?"

I shot up with wide eyes and a panicky voice. "Yes, Mokuba?"

My little brother looked at me with eyes like I'd just slapped him in the face. I hadn't meant to scare him… "I-I'm just going to bed, Seto…ok?"

I stared at him, trying to compute this new information. Bed…what was that… "That's fine Mokuba. The limousine is out front. Have a nice time." I went back to my laptop.

Mokuba continued to stare at me. "Um…ok, Seto…don't work to hard…" He turned slowly as if I was mental or something. I realized I was loosing my mind.

The door closed and I was alone. I put my head back in my hands. What had I done to deserve this? Alright, I killed my stepfather and took over his company, but it's not like he didn't have it coming. I mean, maybe he didn't deserve to be pushed out a 76th-floored building, but still…

The phone rang suddenly and I jumped. I needed to calm down.

Knowing full well who it would be, I picked up the receiver and said in as calm a voice as I could muster, "Kaiba."

"1:00 in the a.m. Do it, unless Joseph Wheeler is more important to you than your own life." Hang-up. Damn them.

I sighed. 1:00, later than last time...Oh well, it left me plenty of time and Mokuba had already left. Work would help my nerves, I thought, (although it never did).

Surprisingly, I managed to loose myself in the laptop, like I wanted, and the next time I looked at my watch it was 12:30. Unfortunately, all the calmness I felt until then left me immediately upon seeing those four numbers. My heart did a leap.

I had to stop this. It was unacceptable. Kill or be killed, survival law. My emotions would not get in the way of my life anymore. I forced all of them down into my abdomen where they couldn't be felt all that much and told myself I didn't feel them whatsoever. I put the blankest expression possible on my face and gave one quick glance around the dark office, just like I had down the night before. No one.

So I left Kaiba Corp. and arrived back at my house at 12:35. I needed more time to prepare for this job because Downtown was farther away than Cherry Street had been. In my pitch black bedroom I opened the hidden door behind my bed to get out my katana. I couldn't believe I was doing this again, the second night in a row. The blade still had a faint smell of stale blood from Mrs. Loughin's brother. The katana was made for this, but I was not. Now it would take Wheeler's life…or, rather, I would take Wheeler's life.

Whatever, I may not have had control over my own life, but I had control of the blade and it would be used only when I wished it. No one could change this. I sheathed the blade and got dressed in the proper attire.

Putting on my hat and covering my mouth with the scarf, I suddenly wondered if Wheeler would recognize who his killer was in the last seconds of his life. Shit. I needed to veil myself fully for this one. I pushed the black cap down harder on my head and pulled the scarf up to my eyes.

My eyes. I had to use the contacts for this one. I just couldn't risk Wheeler knowing. I went to the bathroom for the box, (you see I bought them, but never actually used them). Mud-brown eyes. I scowled at having to do this, but there just wasn't a choice.

Just as I removed one wet, circular indentation from its protective covering, I heard a noise like the creaking of floor boards. Damn! Mokuba was awake. I dropped everything and went to my bedroom door in a flash. No one was there. I sighed in relief. Compulsively, I looked at my watch. 12:48. Better leave now. I got the extra kitchen knife and the bag and left.

The night air was so cold. What month was it? October? Yes…so early on in the year. Yugi would have to go for almost an entire school year without his best friend. I sighed and closed my eyes. I tried to tell myself it wouldn't be my fault. Life was cruel, Yugi needed to learn that. They all did.

About halfway to my destination I remembered the contacts. Shit! I forgot to put them on. Oh well, there was no time to go back. Wheeler probably wasn't going to live long enough to find out who I was anyway.

Walking through the night gave me a strange sense of loneliness that I never felt before. Well, no, I had felt lonely at times in my life, but not since I was a kid. Weird. It was almost a relief when I reached Wheeler's neighborhood, (which was luckily devoid of all people at the time). It meant that I could just get this over with.

The report said that Wheeler lived in a two-floor house next to an apartment building. What they didn't say was that when I matched the address I would find a house in near shambles. It was hardly a house, actually. Garbage littered the front lawn and siding was missing. To me, it almost looked as if it was…crooked. Like, not standing up straight or something. Sinking. Whatever, Wheeler wouldn't have to live in such a rancid place after tonight.

Moving slowly and cautiously, aware of my surroundings at all times, I noticed that a T.V. light was on in one of the rooms. I prayed it wasn't Wheeler's.

It only took me six seconds to undo the front-door lock, (I guess it wasn't a highly expensive lock), but the hinges creaked unexpectedly when I tried to open it. Immediately I stopped what I was doing. No one came running. I proceeded to enter Wheeler's home.

The interior of the house was in such contrast to the house from the previous night that I almost laughed. I thought, "Rich and poor alike all get a chance to piss off the mafia and die." The most prominent difference was the size of the rooms. A dirty kitchen filled with unwashed pots and broken chairs stood to my left and a living room with a semi-broken T.V., rat infested couch, and floor littered with empty beer bottles waited for me at my right, (making the place smell like old beer). I thought of a million sarcastic remarks I could make, but I really didn't want to. Wheeler had to live in this shit-hole everyday. How could he stand it?

A flight of creaky stairs tottered in front of me. I knew I had to ascend them and find Wheeler. I had to. No choice. This was it. I took a deep breath and stepped on the bottom step. Using my silent technique, even if the stairs were a little creaky, no sound came out (the technique was extremely useful in jobs like this).

At the top of the flight, I was met with a hallway, (or a "would-be hallway", I should say), no better than the lower level. Holes that looked like they had been made by human fists surrounded me on both sides. There were only three rooms, two bedrooms and a bathroom. One of the bedrooms to my immediate left emanated sound and a little bit of color flashing, which I knew to mean there was a T.V. on. I moved to the doorframe and peeked in.

Wheeler was sitting in front of a television with his back to me as he stuffed himself with a bowl of popcorn and chuckled at the movie in front of him. He was taking in popcorn by the handfuls, (a few kernels missing his mouth completely), his blonde hair bouncing carelessly with each bite. He sat cross legged on his bare wooden floor, the mess of his room encasing him, almost.

As soon as I saw him, I stepped back behind the wall. I was really here really doing this. The hand from earlier was back in my throat choking me. I needed to breathe…just breathe…I sucked in air hungrily and told myself that it was now or never and never meant death. One more deep breath and I stepped into Wheeler's room.

I tried to sound as silent as possible, creeping up behind Wheeler. All emotion had left me, I was just concentrating on what I was about to do. But why wouldn't my heart stop beating so fast?

Wheeler was oblivious to my movements. He remained sitting and chewing like everything was fine. A foot away from him, I reached out to grab him around the mouth, when the floor board creaked.

Immediately, Wheeler was at attention. He spun around before I had a chance to react to the moment and as soon as he saw me a look of utter shock entered his face, (meaning his eyes widened and mouth opened dropping masticated popcorn pieces to the floor).

Minor delay. I lunged for his mouth with my hand. Making contact, I picked him up and pushed him against the wall. He struggled, making noises like he couldn't breathe.

For a moment, I looked into his eyes. Bad idea. Never look into the eyes of your enemy before you kill them.

I hesitated, seeing the fear in them. Chestnut eyes met my own in a sparkling display of frightened emotions. But over fear, there was a hint of anger, like he wanted to say, "How could you do this to me?" if he could have spoken.

The world stopped as I looked into his eyes. I heard the T.V. in the background. I felt the popcorn pieces crunch under my feet from the upturned bowl. I heard my own breathing and Wheeler's struggled one.

I tilted my head to the side, wasting precious seconds when I could have killed him and ended what was to come right there. But instead I thought of the earlier events of the day. Wheeler coming to my table trying to defend Yugi. He was still wearing his school uniform, dirty and rumpled as it was.

"Kaiba givin' ya trouble, Yuge?" Had he really said that, this boy struggling for life under my gloved hand? Yes, he had. Kill him?

Something burst in my mind and I realized I could die if he lived. This is no time for sentiments, Seto! The voice of stepfather to remind me I was doing something wrong.

I unsheathed my katana. All anger left Wheeler's eyes and he just looked afraid.

"You have insulted…" What was the line? I had forgotten. "The wrong people…now you must die…"

Without warning, pain exploded between my legs. "Take, dat!" Apparently, Wheeler was not frozen in fear at the sight of a sword. He had kicked me in a much undignified place.

I doubled over in pain.

"Whatcha got, pal?" I moved the katana to the classic defense position, (right over my shoulder), and watched as he moved away from me with his fists up.

Now, I was the one angry. He had defied me!

"You're only prolonging your death."

"Oh yeah? Come over here and say dat!" He had a look of pure defiance on his face.

This was ridiculous. "You've made the mistake of insulting a very pissed off group, now you must die." Still couldn't remember my line, but this was good enough.

"Well, I don't know what the hell ya think ya talkin' about, but I don't care who you work for, you're not taking me widdout a fight! Come on!" He was actually a little amusing

Now it got interesting. I smirked under my scarf, enjoying the new competition. The likeable anger entered me again. "Wheeler, don't be an idiot," I said.

I don't know why I said that. I could have killed him right there.

Wheeler began to look confused. He squinted his eyes and dropped his fists, slightly. In a dazed voice he asked, "…Kaiba!"

My cover was blown. Mad at being discovered, I pulled off my hat and scarf, revealing my full face.

Wheeler looked both hurt and surprised. "Kaiba? What the hell are ya doin', man? I mean, I knew ya didn't like me, but I never knew you wanted to kill me…"

Wait…he thought I was the one who wanted him dead? Painful shock took me.

"It's…not my choice, Wheeler. Now come on, make this easier for me. Just give up!" I had a bad feeling suddenly.

Wheeler's eyes widened again but this time in defiance. "Um, hell fucking no!" He put his fists up again and began to try and fight me.

The feeling worsened…what was wrong?

Then I knew. The front door opened below us and a deep, angered voice cried out, "Boy, where the hell are you? I'm gonna fucking kill you if you're not in bed by the time I get up there!"

Like a shot, Wheeler's whole mood changed. "Oh, shit, my dad's home. Kaiba, if he finds us he'll—.."

"He's not going to do a damn thing." I wasn't really afraid, (I was the one with the katana), just annoyed that now I had to will myself to kill Wheeler and his father, (although I was more upset about killing Wheeler).

Forgetting for a moment that I aimed to kill him, Wheeler crossed the room and slammed the door shut. His back was exposed to me.

Kill him now!

But…why?

You'll die!

He'll die!

Who cares?

I don't know, but it doesn't matter. He deserves life.

An idea struck me.

With the hilt of my katana, I snapped a pressure point on Wheeler's neck. He dropped, unconscious and crumpled. The katana seemed to sheath itself as I pondered my next move.

Wheeler's father was on the stairs, I heard him creak on the flimsy wood and shout threats, (I realized suddenly where all the fist-holes came from). I had to move quickly.

I grabbed the front of Wheeler's shirt, snatched my hat and scarf from the floor, and threw him on my back. The door was about to be pounded in and I ran to the window, thrusting it open. The way down wasn't particularly long, just dangerous with a sleeping Wheeler on my back. No time.

I jumped.

Landing on the hard concrete floor of the alleyway between the apartment building and Wheeler's house, I heard a crack but felt no pain. I checked myself, but nothing was broken. It occurred to me to check Wheeler. Sure enough, his wrist was broken. I whispered to myself, "Beautiful landing, Kaiba." I would have to fix him when I got home.

Standing up with him still on my back, (he wasn't heavy, just uncomfortable, making it annoying but easy for me to walk with him hanging on me), I looked to the street I had come from. A Puppet was just pulling up, ready and waiting for me to be done. I couldn't go that way. Waiting was out of the question as well.

I went behind the apartment building, (the alley wasn't closed off with a fence, fortunately). I decided to pass from behind the buildings, out of sight from the streets. This could work, if I just went in the right direction towards my house.

It seemed that no thoughts passed through my mind as I heaved Wheeler home, away from the Puppet and his maniac of a father. I was not expecting the events to turn out the way they did. But that's life. I couldn't even consider what was about to happen, although I pretty much figured I was not going to make it out scot-free.

I reached the mansion in an unreal state of mind. Automatically I entered it in darkness, feeling the strangeness of Wheeler being in my home, although he was not awake. But he would be eventually, thanks to me.

I decided to put Wheeler in my own room, where Mokuba wouldn't be tempted to travel, (and what would Mokuba do when he found Wheeler?). Walking into it, I knew that Wheeler would hate this place. It was so big, even I hated it. He would have to get over it.

I laid him down carefully on the bed and returned my katana to its rightful spot in the wall. I looked at myself in the mirror for a moment as I passed it. Without the contacts it was easy for Wheeler to recognize me. Damn it. Why are you so stupid?

Wheeler lay sprawled on the bed in the undignified position I had left him in. Remembering his wrist, I moved toward the bed and pulled a chair up to the bedside. I practically fell into it I was so tired. My hands massaged my face and I tried to make sense of all the thoughts. I slouched forward and gently looked at his wrist. It was a bad break, more than one bone broken. I was glad that Wheeler had been unconscious when he received it otherwise he would have totally blown our cover with shouts of pain.

Taking him to the hospital was not even a thought that crossed my mind. I would have to fix this by myself. I put my hands into position and twisted. There was a quiet click as the bones resettled. Yet Wheeler slept on.

A better look at it told me it was still broken, just not as bad as before. I wanted to try again, but knew that all I would do from here was make it worse. I left it and wrapped it tightly in a cloth I found in the bathroom.

Leaning back in my chair, I took in Wheeler's full sleeping form. His eyes were closed, so the sparkle show was out, but he did have an interesting profile…

He looked so peaceful, laying there sleeping. The world went on around him and he didn't even notice. He began to snore and I smirked. Get comfortable, Wheeler.

"You owe me," I told him in a low voice.

Part of his bangs fell across his face. With my middle finger, I gently brushed away the yellow hair. There, you could see his face better. I smirked again. He was easy to handle when asleep. I took in his form again and suddenly felt something I was not expecting to feel. Never in a million years. Impossible.

Attraction.

I jumped up, knocking the chair back. Jesus Christ, he was my goddamn rival. And he was a male, for fucking sake. Jesus…I brushed off the feeling and tried to swallow my embarrassment.

I went to the clear other side of the room and got ready for a shower. A cold one. Freezing cold.

I sighed. Why was this the way with my life?

Death and life. What was the difference anymore?

A/N: Well…this only took my entire day to write! How was it, (I'm dying to know!)? A few notes, Wheeler's accent will be on and off in this. I don't like to play things up too much so I'll only put it in when it's easy to figure out what he's saying. Yay, I loved writing the ending. The next chapter has more SetoxJoey. Fun! Please review! I so want to know how bad I did, (lol, the little masochist in me!)!