Oh wow…you know, this story is so much fun to write I think I'm getting a little obsessed with it…case in point: I used to be writing another fic, but I haven't updated it in about…four months. I've just been writing this so much I don't have time anymore! Gaah, I know that's stupid and not very pledging to my author title, but…well, I'll update one of these days…yeah one of them…oh yeah…definitely, (hopefully)…And I also want to apologize if the last chapter was too gory, again. I'm actually hoping not to get kicked off the site for that, (sweats). But this story is just like one of those stories that, you know, just HAS to be bloody? I don't know, it just is, weirdly enough. Oh well…still obsessed with it.
Oh and italics mean that Seto is having a flashback. So it's like: Seto's flashback. And they're rarely good.
One more thing: Any similarities to names or actual people are completely coincidental and should not be taken seriously and should definitely not be considered intentionally offensive.
Now, my oh so wonderful Reviewers:
Marz: Thanks for reading! Hooked? Well…ehe…so am I, (blushes). That's a good thing, though, right? Long chapters do rock…they do…I know. Yes, Seto is a little lost…poor him. (cries for Seto) I think this chapter is where things sort of…heat up…so I feel even sorrier for him. I'm mean…sorry Seto! Joey may or may not mind the assassin thing. It's hard to tell with him, you know? He certainly is a hard character to depict realistically…(wipes sweat off forehead)…but you knew that already. So yeah. Hmm…as for your predictions for later chapters, yes there is definitely a war-in-the-making, and even though I'm against war, I still want to see Seto kick some ass, too, lol. The happily-ever-after ending, eh, maybe not…but I'm not sure yet. For now, I think I'll just let this story write itself and go where it wants to go. Oh and your story is still wonderful! I hope you update soon! Enjoy the fifth chapter!
C.M. Aeris Queen of Insanity: Thank you for your review! Nice to hear from a queen of insanity. I enjoy your opinion! Oh yes Seto does love Joey very much…it's alright to laugh evilly at him, at least in this chapter anyway. And gore and violence are fun, but explicitly written content can get an authoress kicked off these days…(gulps)…well, I'm still with you anyway. Thanks again and I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Xaio-Darkcloud: Thanks for reading, friend. I shall try and be more self-confident this time…but I'm really not. You know me…I think I suck at everything. (sighs) Well, anyway, thank you for all your compliments and your continually wonderful reviews. Have fun with this one, (you'll like it I think)!
"Arrow Sphere": You love it? OH THANK YOU! I loved getting your review! It even offered some advice, love that! Relationship development…you mean sex, right? Just kidding! No, no really I was…ugh, sorry if that wasn't funny but I just had to say it. Right about Joey's poor broken wrist: Well I kind of…coughcoughforgotcoughcough…but it was too late to revise, so I put it in this chapter. Pretend you never noticed. Sorry I'm such a bad author, editing was never my strong point. I'm so sorry if that ruined it for you! Please forgive me. I hope you do read this story and review it; it was so wonderful to hear from you!
Fire Kitten: Once again, thanks for your wonderful review! Well, laziness is rewarded with an underlined name in the response…lol. Joey was realistic? Perfect? Really? He is so so so so so so hard to characterize…gaah…so difficult. Likey is a cool word. It described Seto perfectly. And yes things start to get better in this chapter, I think…Joey's expressions are cute. So much more emotion than Seto would have shown, lol. Let me ask you a question: In regards to expression, do you think Joey and Mokuba display any similarities? I think so…I find that when I write the both of them, they sort of turn out similar…weird. But anyway, yes kissing…hmmm, kissing…(thinks)…good idea…but I shan't say anything. Seto continues to protect Joey. Deep down he knows he wants to…come on Seto…admit it… Oh and the wrist was somehow missed in the diting process…(coughs and wipes sweat off forehead)…ehe? Sorry! I'm not that good of a writer…oh well, it shall be included in this chapter I promise. Lol, borrowed or stole? Ooo…I'm telling! (lol, not really) Thanks again for your review. I still love receiving them, always a nice fully balanced point of view on my writing. That actually does feel good to get, as I'm sure you know…thanks! Until next we speak.
Hazel-Beka: Thanks again for reading! Once again, I have looked forward to your review and been so delighted to actually read it! Aww…you think I'm a good writer, (blushes)…thank you so much. Always nice to hear, (blushes again). The ending sentence is always the most important, (a little more than the opening sentence, I think), don't you find? Oh and I still love you for sending me that picture of Seto with the katana. I still look at it every day, lol. Anyway, please read this and tell me what you think!
lilcupcake: YAY! Your following the story! I am soo happy to hear that from someone, it is such wonderful praise, it really is. Yes, the wrist thing…almost everyone noticed. I could lie and be "cool", but I won't because I really want to tell the truth to you. There was a slight…err, editing…mistake in the final stages. I missed the detail, yeah. But I put it in this chapter, so I'll ask you to kind of forget you saw that? I know, I suck at writing, I really do. Really. No, but…really. (blushes) Ugh, I'm so sorry. Please don't hate my story for the stupidity of the author! Give it another chance…thank you! I so hope you review this story, it was nice to hear from a "follower", to use your word, of the plot. Thanks!
Flame Swordswoman: Hey! No…you weren't the first reviewer this time. But that's ok! I don't care, as long as I do get your review; I love to get your comments and thoughts! So nice! Exciting? Yay! Kill Seto or Joey? Well, actually kill, I hope not! But try to, this is the edge of a near war, I can guarantee more violence. I hope I don't get kicked off the site for gore…shh no one tell!...lol. Again, thanks for reviewing and I shall hope to see your next one! See ya!
Yami'skoi: Like I promised, I will respond to all your lovely and long reviews, (which I'm still grateful to have received, btw!)! Captivating? Oh thank you…wow, reading your comments, I shall become egotistical…lol. Seto, human? Of course. That is one of the key elements to a story, Seto's humanity. It is an aspect often overlooked, I think, unfortunately. Assassins have to be guilty at least some time, don't you think? Especially Seto. Yeah definitely. It's so cool that you noticed, btw! Lust is a cool emotion to depict, but characters are so much more than that, they have to think sometime! You have to wonder, though, would Seto actually walk like that? Would any assassin? I'd be so so so so so scared to be finally caught in the act that I would like disappear basically. Seto's got a lot of balls to go out in broad daylight like that, (mmm…Seto's balls…oh sorry). In character Seto, YAY! My favorite. If I had killed my English teacher's brother…wait, no I wouldn't kill anyone. Sorry for even bringing it up, (poor Seto). Your descriptions are really good. That's probably what Joey thinks when he looks at Seto running, (hmm…ideas). Seto with the law. Well, he is a billionaire. How much does the law affect you then, I wonder? Guess I'll never know…odd. The mafia was pretty easy to depict, they were those sorts of characters that wrote themselves onto the page, you know? Yeah. I guess it was kind of obvious that Joey was going to be the subject of the meeting, but it wouldn't be any other way. That was the easiest way, so let it be. To find Joey without a head! (gasp) Wow! That was a creepy image; I wonder how Seto would've responded to that! I'm so glad he didn't kill him, the same as you. Oh yeah, Seto was in basic denial when he entered Joey's house. Poor Joey. And Seto, actually. It was just like a bad situation all around. Grr…I'm so evil. Class when describing attraction…is that hard to do? I wonder…what do you think? I so love hearing your opinion. Eat popcorn, yes, have fun…lol. I feel bad for Mokuba, he does get lied to often, in spite of his cuteness! It's weird. Seto's scars, yes a good topic. I shall explain that later, don't worry. I had to put that aspect in here, it is so cool I think, (not to be, like, weird or anything, though. Am I weird? Probably…ehe?). Oh and the brother-relationship is one of the best in stories. So special, never to be copied by accident or whatever. Evident especially in the case of Seto and Mokuba, definitely. Seto must be In Character! I hope he is. YAY! Oh and even though Joey is hard to write, I tried to make him as realistic as possible. Although, I don't think that I'll ever get Joey's POV in here…maybe, but I really want to keep the focus on Seto right now. Yet, there is always a chance. I honestly don't know. This story has to write itself, I can't change it, you know? I do think I suck…there are a lot of editing mistakes in this, (I won't point them out, but they're there). I'm sorry, Tsumi…I just do. Don't hurt me! Confident vibes? Oh you flatter me! Thanks you so much! Oh and what you said about the last scene of the fourth chapter, wow. That was like, highest praise. Thank you! Wow…I'm like, wow. That was so…wow. Update, here you go! Yes, I did think this through, even hoping there are no editing mistakes like the last chapter. Thanks again fro reviewing, Tsumi, and I can't wait for your next review, so long and lovely! Until next we speak, ttyl!
"Green Eggs and Ham": Thanks for reviewing! Yes even though Joey is a hard character to write, I must make him IC. Has to be! I did well? Thank you! I'm glad Joey didn't do the "crime" either. But, if he didn't, who did? Alas! No one asked that yet, but I shan't say anything. Oh the mafia. Well it's sort of like a high class gang, but with more, like, reverence. If you have any questions, just think about The Sopranos, (which I do not own, even though I have put it in this review! I DO NOT OWN IT!). It's like that, at least in this story. Oh and another thing! The mafia varies depending on which country it is native to! The Japanese mafia is called the Yakuza, (not capitalized). The Italian mafia, La Famiglia is the slang. The Chinese mafia consists of the Triads, I think…well, yes you get the point. Oh and that's not a stupid question. A lot of people don't know and go around thinking they know and it's just really annoying. So, yeah, don't feel bad! Yes, memory loss is a sad thing, what kind of friends do you have…?
Nachzes Black Rider: Thank you for reviewing! You love it? Oh wow! Such high praise! Thanks! Oh and um thanks! Glad you liked it, please keep reading it! I loved to have a simple yet complimenting review…thanks!
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh. Oh and I don't own Lost Prophets or their song "Make Your Move". It's a really good song, but I repeat I do NOT own it.
Warning: This story contains yaoi, homosexuality, shounen-au, malexmale! Please do not read if you have something against this! I mean there are some mildly GRAPHIC scenes of sex in this so if you have a problem please do not read it! Please, (begging here…). Also, there is a scene of bloody violence in this! Seriously, people it is bloody! Oh and there are also some mentions of self-mutilation, but no one actually doing it, alright? Consider yourselves warned!
Chapter 5: Chasing Tails
The smell of shotgun powder never really leaves a room. Especially after such a round of fire as my would-be assassin delivered. I could practically feel the sulfuric stench seeping into my clothes as I stood there. Goddamn, how I loathe gunfire. If people really want to do damage, why don't they use the blade? So much more effective, I find.
But the main focus of the moment was not the smell of gunfire, or the fact that Wheeler was standing in front of me rather lost in thought, nor even the slight miracle the Mokuba had not scurried downstairs at the sound of rapid fire. It was the silence between us.
Silence can command a place. Really, it can. It remains the one thing that refuses to be broken, no matter how hard you try. I opened my mouth…but nothing came out. I wished Wheeler would just talk already, the damn mutt. I could tell he had something on his pathetic little mind, if he would just vomit whatever it was all over the floor, maybe something useful could come of this impenetrable silence. (I had a slightly poisoned attitude because of the state of things.)
Still he said nothing.
Not in the nicest of moods, I dropped my newly crimson utility knife to the floor, (trying to stir some talking out of him). There was a clang as it collided with shells. Wheeler jumped and looked at me absently, but still said nothing.
Well, whatever. There was work to be done. Leaving my knife where it was, I glided out of the room rather quickly into the bathroom that lies to the side. I wrenched the faucet into action, spilling the cool water over my blood ridden hands. Let me tell you, blood is the hardest thing to get off human skin. It's like permanent stain or something. I find this ironic…how blood can so willingly spill out of someone's veins at the slightest twist of a blade, but when it comes in contact with it skin, it refuses to leave, latched like it has a mind to seep back into the veins where it belongs. But I do not pretend to know everything about blood loss and consistency. I know only what I've seen, (which is still a lot).
I guess a few minutes went by before I got enough of it off to know I could stop scrubbing. My hands were raw now. I exchanged one form of redness for another. How nice.
I wiped them with the towel slowly, staring at my form in the mirror. This was definitely not the place to do this; Mokuba would be waking up soon and I needed to clean the room before he found it. But still I looked. Damn monster that lied in wait for me in the mirror. I want to kill the monster but that would be…
I physically shook my head and ran back into the room where Wheeler was. He had moved to where my utility knife had been purposefully dropped. It was in his bloody hand. Bloody hand? Oh yes, Wheeler, the fool, was soiling his delicate hand with the blood of some hated monstrosity known as Gustov's son!
He inspected it as he said, (the silence now officially broken), "So, do ya' actually know how to use dis, Kaiba? I mean, I saw ya' threaten that weird-ass jag off and all but—.."
"What are you doing? Put that down immediately!" I was furious at him for touching it. No one but me was allowed to hold my knives. And I mean no one.
He turned and looked at me, chocolate eyes, (for they really were almost chocolate now that I looked…), questioning me and yet mocking me at the same time. "What, am I tamperin' wid evidence or somethin'?"
Tampering with evidence? Oh he was so stupid…I hated him, but also felt a little…Goddamn, why did his stupidity of all things have to attract me? I ran a hand through my hair. "No, but just put it down. Right now." My voice had entered a state of pure rage. This was the voice that frightened most of my employees into utter submission.
Wheeler stared at me for a moment. A smirk played on his lips. He enjoyed this; he knew that he was making me angry and frustrated. He really got off on that. Did I blame him? No. I did the same thing to him, after all. But this was serious. This was my knife.
"What, is dis like your weapon of choice?"
"No, but if you don't put that down I'm going to have to kill you."
Wheeler took a step back. He looked shocked, but sarcastically so. What did he think he was, invincible? "Kill me? With what? You've protected me this far, why would you waste everything now?"
One thing he overlooked. "Actually Wheeler, killing you would solve all my problems. Every single last one. Now. Put. That. Knife. The fuck. Down." I meant it.
One word: "No" came out of his mouth.
"Put it down."
"No."
There was a way to force him, but not physically. I had to use my mind games. "Wheeler, what are you attempting to prove here?"
Silence. I noticed that he was moving ever backwards. Good. "Wheeler, you don't know how to use that. What is the point?"
"What if I took dis and went on my own?" he asked, a questioning sort of annoyingly stupid face plastered on him.
Now he was just being ludicrous. "You would die. That I can guarantee."
"Why?"
"That knife alone won't help you Wheeler. Weapons by themselves can do nothing. To fight an enemy…" I moved towards him a little and he scurried backwards again. "…it takes intelligence. And courage. You lack both. You wouldn't accomplish anything."
Anger flashed through his eyes. I struck something. "What are ya' sayin' Kaiba?"
"I'm saying that if you try to use my knife to protect you, all you'll end up doing is hurting yourself." I paused, looking to the side as if in thought for a moment. "That would be a sad sight. A puppy wounding himself. Hmm…why not just present yourself tied and bound to your enemy?"
Wheeler stopped moving for a moment and looked as if he was about to charge toward me. Without warning, I advanced forward with a lot of force. The consequence of which sent Wheeler practically flipping straight back. And right into the deformed door. Obviously it did not support him and he fell out onto the porch.
Not missing a beat, I was on him, prying the knife off of his hand in one fluid motion. Only when I had my knife safely back in my possession did I realize my situation. I was fitted directly on top of, (really I was almost straddling him), the object of my attraction. This was crazy, but I still felt myself wanting to lean down the extra maybe sixteen inches onto Wheeler's half open, surprised lips and smother them with my own…
A cry from Wheeler brought me out of my reverie. I quickly gathered myself and jumped off him, embarrassed. Had he seen any of my attraction? No…no…definitely not. He could not, of course, I barely even knew it was there…no, I mean…
"GODDAMN IT!" He cried.
"What?" I asked, trying to hide my recent feelings with that of annoyance and boredom.
"My friggin' wrist!"
Oh, I had quite forgotten. The break had probably been mended enough for him not to feel it when he was active before. When I straddled him, I must have gone against the break and he felt it then. I felt sorry for him…wait, what the hell was that? I felt sorry for him, the weakling? That was stupid. Pathetic, actually.
"What the hell's wrong wid it?" he asked, sitting up on the cement. Half of his body was leaning out of the house.
Well, about that…how would I tell him? Oh well, out with it. "When I was dragging you out of your house last night, your wrist had a hard collision with the pavement. It…broke." I tilted my head upwards, trying to hide my shame, (I know that's the opposite of what normal people do, but that's what I do to pretend that I am in fact not ashamed at all and that I just happened to be lifting my head at that moment).
"Ya' mean ya' broke my wrist trying to save me?" Horrified was the only word to describe his expression. It totally ruined his face's beauty.
"Yes."
He half closed his eyes at me, in an incredulous manner. "…ya' know fa' the genius that runs a million-dolla' company…"
"Well, I did try to fix it. Even you didn't notice it until now—.."
"Seto?" A voice came from behind me. Small…like a child's…I whipped around.
Mokuba. The blood on the wall, the shells, the powder smell, the door, the knife in my hand, Wheeler…
Like a dash, I hid the bloody knife behind my back. "Good morning Mokuba. Do you feel alright?" Normally he only came to find me this early in the morning, still in his sleeping clothes if he felt sick.
Why couldn't I try to hide it? I just hoped Wheeler would catch on and not do anything stupid…
But all I could stare at was Mokuba's face. It tore me up. He was scared, he knew something was amiss, and he was standing at the top of that stairs looking lost and afraid, and a little like he was unsure of whether he could move or not. I wondered if he was frightened of me. His big brother?
Huge purple eyes swept the room. The smell had probably already reached him. "Seto…I was sleeping and I heard a noise like a gun going off" (I don't even want to tell you how he knew what a gun sounded like) "…so I came back downstairs to see if everything was alright…are you ok?"
First and foremost he would ask me if I was alright. That was just him.
"Yes, I am fine, Mokuba. I just…well you see we had an unexpected visitor…Wheeler here…" I had a plan.
Incredulously, Mokuba looked at him. "Joey?" he exclaimed.
The mutt seemed to be looking at him the same way, if through a slightly pained expression. But he was one to be an idiot, so instead of asking for my little brother's name like he'd never heard of him before, he smiled this big toothy smile and gave him the peace-sign of all things. "Hey, kid," he offered.
That caught me kind of off guard. This was not some social gathering—this was life and death for fucking sake.
"Seto…seriously what's going on?" Mokuba had taken a slight step since Wheeler had given him his declaration of peace.
I started. "Wheeler is in a sort of trouble with a gang giving him a hell of a hard time. He decided to stay here with us because he does not want to endanger any of his friends…" I gestured towards the door with the only hand in front of me. "…can you see what they did to us?"
Again his eyes swept around the room. "Yeah…" he said tentatively.
"So he'll be staying here for a time, until this whole business with the gang is sorted out. Is that—.."
"Seto why is there blood on the wall?" Mokuba was not easily fooled. I was proud of him most for the time for this. He was a Kaiba, wasn't he?
"Wheeler here cut his wrist trying to remain alive, and it's also broken. Isn't that right, Wheeler?" I looked towards him with a face that warned him not to try and break my pretend-situation.
His face was totally stunned with wide eyes and mouth in the shape of an "o". If I had been able to, I would have shaken my head and closed my eyes, but I didn't. My eyes decided to slit themselves at him, in further instruction on what he was supposed to say. It wasn't much—just one word.
Slowly, he nodded.
Good puppy.
Mokuba's face looked hurt from the inside-out. "So the blood got on the wall?" he asked.
"Yes," I told him strongly.
"Oh. And the gun shots and firing came from the gang trying to find him."
"Kill him, in fact, Mokuba."
"Oh." He nodded a little. Then he looked like he was going to cry, but wouldn't let himself. I knew why he wanted to cry, but there was nothing I could do about it. "Well, as long as no one's hurt…"
He was agreeing too soon. He knew and he felt like crying about it. He knew that I was lying to him completely and utterly but he was smart enough to know not to push me for the truth. Sometimes he had too much Kaiba in him.
Regardless, I had hurt him. His big brother had damaged his feelings. Once again it was just me being an assassin. Only this time I was killing the emotions of probably the only person who would ever love me, or who I would ever love. Wasn't that the opposite of what I was supposed to do? Not as an assassin but as a big brother? As you can see, I had not two but three jobs.
But I would never let the truth slip. What would happen if he knew the secret about me? I didn't even want to think about it.
I looked away from my hurt brother. "Well…" I sighed. "Go upstairs, Mokuba, and get changed into your school clothes. Just because we have a guest doesn't mean you don't have to go to school." Now he really looked ready to cry. "Go. Now. Wheeler and I will clean up this…mess."
He gazed towards the floor then started to head back where he came from.
Then the blonde next to me stood straight up. "Actually, Mokub', why don' ya' just get changed? I think you can definitely take the day off, considerin' the danger and ev'ythin'…" Mokuba stopped walking towards the stairs and looked at him, then me, then him again, then me.
What was Wheeler trying to do? Run my family? Who the hell was he? "No, Mokuba." His gaze fixed on me. "Go to school. It's alright…" But it wasn't. Nothing was alright…oh, now I knew Wheeler's point. If my employers were after me, they would be stationed all over the place. Mokuba couldn't go outside without protection—and even if I sent three of my bodyguards to go with him there was still a chance he could be taken. (The whole ordeal with Pegasus had proved that much to me.)
Dammit. Wheeler had outsmarted me. Fuck.
I sighed. "No…it's not alright Mokuba." My head was drooping. "I think it's best if you do stay home today. I'll call in sick for you, just go upstairs, alright? Upstairs…" I felt like I was cracking again.
Mokuba looked so confused. He really wanted to know what was going on, why a boy he knew I hated more than the dirt stuck between the couch pillows, (which is another thing I hated. No matter how hard you cleaned, it was always just stuck there in between the pillows like it was meant to be there. Quite like blood did, come to think of it), was now suddenly living with us, why I was letting him stay home from school which was strictly against the rules in the Kaiba mansion. Why there really was blood on the walls, why I was acting unfit for life among the humans suddenly. But hell, I didn't even want to acknowledge the reasons why. They were too humiliating and difficult to get control over, (another thing I couldn't stand; not being able to get control over something).
Oh well. Maybe when this was all over, (assuming of course that I was still alive), I would be able to repress all the memories that it ever happened. That always worked for me.
Mokuba left the room quickly. I didn't blame him for wanting to get the hell out of there, away from the craziness. I did too.
Alone with Wheeler, I knew I would have to face his arrogant-self over having outsmarted me. But I was wrong again. He just walked toward the blood on the wall and wiped at it with the end of his uniform, (keep in mind that the mutt had not changed out of the accursed blue thing), saying, "So ya' didn' tell him dat you're an assassin?"
I was looking at him, and I said, "No," kind of intrigued that he had decided to ask that question of all of them out there.
"Why?" The blood had dried there so he started to rub harder.
"Can you imagine him even looking at me the same way if he knew? The deception he lived through for all those years finally revealed to him, I couldn't even expect him to want to look at me again." I let that ring for a moment. Then said, "And you're going to need a cleaning solution and rag to get that off, mutt."
He stopped rubbing. "Oh ok." He licked his finger and rubbed at the spot with it, doing little more than smudging it.
"Is that a cleaning solution?" I asked.
"Yep. But, anyway, why didn' ya' just tell him right out when ya' started killin' people?"
"Same reason."
He laughed a sort of exasperated laugh. "No it ain't. Ya' wouln' have had all da years of lyin' ta have as an excuse." (Part of me was amazed that he knew what the word "deception" meant, but I guess he took it into context.)
I was appalled at that last word. "Excuse? What excuse? It's the truth, mutt."
"Say whatever ya' want. But ya' know in ya' heart it's jus' because you're scared shitless of telling him."
Anger coursed through me. "Scared of what?"
"Maybe he won' look at ya' the same way because he would think ya' were an asshole having to murder people in there sleep."
"Don't think for one second Wheeler that I had the luxury of killing my victims in their sleep, with their eyes still closed and their surroundings unnoticed. Don't even think that for one second."
He turned away from the wall and the smudged blood, looking at me with those big brown eyes that somehow sent electric shocks through my body. "So I guess you killed 'em when they were still awake."
"Yes. Just like I was going to do to you, Best Friend." I mocked him with that last allusion to friendship.
"But ya' didn'." He turned back to the wall, depriving me of his eyes that were…lovely. Lovely? Yes, they were…No they weren't! But they were…
I argued with myself for a few more seconds and totally forgot to give Wheeler a come back. By the time I remembered, it was already too late, and I couldn't even think of something to refute him with. Because he was right. I hadn't killed him.
I left the room to get cleaning materials, muttering curses all the way. He could piss me off but also attract me at the same time. How was that fair? It wasn't…but it was better if I acknowledged the fact that he did attract me, right? Yes, it was better than self-denial. …Right? Yes, of course it was. Yes…
I returned to Wheeler with a broom, a bottle of cleaning fluid, more rags than in the entire school uniform, and a vacuum, (don't ask how I carried all of it, it's not as hard for a master of martial arts, you see). He looked surprised that we would need this much, but he shouldn't have been. Could he not see the ever-present blood-stain on the wall despite his spit?
He surveyed the items and asked, "Don't you have maids or servants or something?"
"I do. But they do not come in until noon. So until then you and I are on our own."
He looked astonished. "Me and you? Together?" I nodded, annoyed at his immaturity. "Wow! It'll be like da return of da Dynamic Cleaning Duo! We could be famous fa' dis, Kaiba…jus' think: The Assassin and the Street Kid. How cool is dat?"
I was put out by his enthusiasm. Rubbing my temples, trying to ward off the head-ache that threatened to annihilate whatever thinking process I had left. So I said, "Just shut up and clean before Mokuba comes back down, alright, mutt? Can you do that?"
He shrugged and smiled. "Sure thing, my partner in cleaning-crime." Now he was trying to annoy me with the one-liners that were so corny you could kill him, (well normally you could kill him).
I was surprised that Wheeler had seen most of those things before, (his room and his home were so messy it was amazing he even knew what I wanted to do with them). But not only did he know exactly that, he knew how to use them. It was interesting, watching him sweep all the shells in a pile and stuff them into the designated garbage pail, humming some Lost Prophet song I recognized. (Do not think, by the way, that I didn't sneak some glances at his ass in the process, and then quickly look away face red with immediate humiliation.)
While spraying the fluid on the blood and wiping it off furiously trying to work out the many mixed emotions I felt, (which were starting to take a toll on me, I'll admit), he start actually singing some of the lyrics.
"Wake up, wake up, wake up! Yeah, I'm so sick of waiting! Waiting to make a move…wake up, wake up, wake up. It's time to make a move." In his accent the lyrics sounded odd, but he still sang them.
I got the last remnants of blood off the wall and turned to his back. "You know, you shouldn't say things like that while you're in hiding, totally at the mercy of some of the most ruthless people you'll meet in life, who have no problem hiring a trained assassin to kill you."
He turned around. "Yeah, dat's anotha thing. Who trained ya'?"
The question stung badly. It felt like the bandages had been ripped off a supposedly healed wound, only to find that the doctors had lied to you and you were still bleeding to death. I wiped the clean wall again, saying nothing.
Wheeler shifted. "Or did ya' teach yourself?"
I chose not respond
Eventually he dropped the subject and went back to his sweeping. I continued to aimlessly wipe at the walls, even though they were clean.
I chanced closing my eyes. Memories flooded back to me…
"Pay attention, now, Seto. What if your enemy is right here—.." He sent a punch sailing toward my face, but stopped just before he hit me, for I had deflected his fist with ease.
"Good. But what if your enemy is right here—.." He kicked me in the groin. I dropped to floor.
He laughed. "Couldn't block that one could you? What about this?" He kicked my side, my ribs. It hurt like hell.
"No? Try this—.." He stomped on my back. Why couldn't I block any of these? He was just too fast. Damn him…my whole body hurt…
"Come on, Seto. You have a katana, now use it!" He kicked my leg, flipping me over. Now I was totally unprotected from his kicks, which were directed then in my stomach, my chest, my ribs again…
I wanted him to die. Just go away damn you! I felt the hilt of the katana rough in my child's hand, too big, too heavy. But I had to protect myself…
Struggling I lifted the katana off the ground and aimed towards the only thing my mind could still register from the man. His leg.
One motion—schwing. He screamed. For some reason his leg was in my hand. Sticky blood on me…the pain resounded in my bones…I couldn't breathe…
I attempted to stand up. It hurt, but I did it. My ribs, they cut into my side.
Suddenly there was a hand on my shoulder, heavy, with jeweled- rings that pressed deeply into my shoulder blades. "Good," the voice said. My step-father. I immediately tensed, unsure of what his next move would be.
"Anger is good, Seto. Hate is what you need to be strong. Never forget that."
"Yes, Father," I said mechanically, raggedly breathing.
"You will have a new teacher tomorrow. But until then you have your assignment for tonight. I suggest you head to your room and work on it. Go."
"Yes, Father." And I went, walking with pain in each step and the tears somehow falling down my cheeks without sign of stopping…
"Seto?" I opened my eyes. The wall re-registered into my sight. No, I wasn't in that bad place anymore…no I was here, six years older than I was at that time, stronger and step-father-less. The right way. It was over, it's all over…
"Seto?"
All over, yes everything was alright here and now…why couldn't I forget all those bad times? Why wouldn't my step-father stay dead, like all the others, innocents some of them? It didn't make any sense…
"Yo, Kaiba!" Wheeler's voice snapped me back. I turned around to find my brother and Wheeler staring at me like I had grown a head over the course of a minute.
"Yes, what is it?" I asked, my voice shaking slightly with the first syllable I uttered, (but thankfully none after that).
"Umm…I think the place is clean now, do you want to have some breakfast?" My little brother asked.
I sighed. "Sure. Let me just throw this rag away. Go on ahead with Wheeler and make sure he doesn't break anything valuable on his way."
"Hey, jus' what are ya' sayin' Kaiba?" He stomped his foot.
Mokuba was quick to interrupt. "Umm! Let's just go on, I'm sure you're hungry Joey, right?"
"Oh, yeah, starvin'!" And so they went upstairs, talking about what we had to eat. I felt bad for Wheeler. I was a vegan; I had no meat in the house and no dairy products either. I let Mokuba buy eggs for some breakfast once and a while but not often because I worry so much about his health.
I went back into the bathroom. I plopped the rag into the garbage pail and proceeded to wash my hands again. They were still slightly raw from their intense cleaning before, but that was alright. The pain felt good just then.
I took out my knife, (I had put in my pocket since Mokuba found me), and stared for a moment at the crusted blood on it. It needed to be cleaned, or the blood would stain and flake off the polish on the metal.
As I turned on the faucet again and delicately put the knife under the running water, I tried not to think about how the memories had so penetrated my mind. I mean, I felt like they shouldn't have—that was so long ago, why did I even bother? But they did.
Remember how I told you how much I hate it when things are out of my control? Well, I am helpless when it comes to my emotions. Thus, I hate them. I hate everything that I feel when I know I can't control it…everything. My undying love for Mokuba, my feelings for Wheeler, my fear and pain over my past, even the hate I do feel over all of it, makes me want to hurt myself sometimes.
I used to cut. But not anymore because I've realized that it's a childish way to take out all your emotional pain. Some of the scars I have are self-inflicted, but on the underside of my arm only.
I don't know if this makes me a candidate for psychological help or not, but honestly I don't care. When I cut, I was in control of my body, my emotions were superseded by my physical pain, which took away some of that helplessness I felt inside. That alone was better than anything I've ever felt. Ever.
And yet I did stop. There are times when I wish to go back to cutting and just let go, but I don't because part of me is afraid of what would happen again if I did. You see, I did this when I was a child—starting from when Gozaburo was still alive. I have memories that are connected to the cutting that are…less than nice. I wish I didn't have them, sometimes I wish this only to be able to cut again, but then I tell myself that it's childish.
Is it, I wonder? Maybe. But it doesn't matter because no matter how much I may want to or whatever the hell I wish, I refuse to go back to self-mutilation. I realize now better than I did then that none of my problems were solved by the lines of scars on my arm.
Yet, as I rubbed the blade between my fingers, the blood flaking off in clumps, I found myself looking longingly at it. What did I want? I knew...and why couldn't I, again? Yes, I knew my problems wouldn't be solved, but I also knew how nice it would feel to have maybe one more scar…
No. I was not this weak. I would get through this rush of a distant memory and I would get through this problem with Wheeler and the goddamn Mafia. I would get through it all, just like I always did. This blade could not help me.
So, when I was satisfied that the knife was clean enough, I put it away again and went upstairs.
Halfway down the hallway I could hear Wheeler's accented voice yelling, "What! Ya' mean there ain't no real food in dis house!"
Then Mokuba saying, "No, Joey, we have real food, just not meat or dairy products or anything full of fatty cholesterol and junk—.."
"Then you don't have anything!"
"No, we do. It's just—.."
I walked in the kitchen. "Wheeler, if you don't like what's on the menu, just leave. And die. I wouldn't mind."
They both stared at me, Mokuba a little more sullenly, and Wheeler a little more angrily. "Yes you would…" he muttered under his breath.
After a moment of silence, (that included Wheeler sitting down in one of the kitchen chairs exasperated and perhaps a little frustrated), Mokuba asked, "Seto, can we, just this once, make waffles with real eggs, only because Joey's here?"
"No, he should get used to the way things are in this house. You can make waffles, Mokuba, but save the eggs for another time, alright?"
He gave me the old "puppy eyes trick" that I could somehow never refuse. Damn.
I crossed my arms and looked away, trying to ignore him.
Mokuba sighed. "Sure thing, Seto."
A pang was sent through me as I saw him trudge toward the refrigerator to get the fake-eggs, milk, flour, and all that junk out. I had hurt him again…but this one I could help.
"I'll make them, Mokuba, ok?"
He stopped walking and turned around. "Ok!" I think he looked substantially happier.
We exchanged places and I set the oven, (keep in mind that everything in the kitchen was of the highest quality), to the right heat.
"Seto, can I show Joey around the house?" Mokuba was definitely bored.
"Won't dat take like a day or somethin'?" Wheeler asked.
"Yes, it would. Perhaps after breakfast, then, Mokuba?" I suggested, mixing ingredients with practiced ease.
"Ok."
Silence.
"Seto can I go for a bike ride because it's such a nice day?"
"NO!" Wheeler and I said at once, looking at him wildly and fearfully.
He took a step back. "..O..K.." Well that was settled.
Annoyed at my sudden outburst, (and my unexpected compliance with Wheeler), I turned back to the waffles and beat the eggs with too much force, thus spilling them slightly.
"Seto can I go play video games?"
"Yes, Mokuba." That he could do if he was so bored. And he was.
"Video games?" Wheeler asked. I wondered if he was a serious gamer, (although I wasn't sure if anyone was as serious as Mokuba). Did he have enough money for video games? It didn't look like it from the impression I received having been in his house.
"Yup. Do you play, Joey?"
"Hell yeah, kid. What games do you have?" It appeared…I was wrong.
Mokuba had too many games, that was the answer. "Umm…" He said, running a hand down the back of his neck. "A lot. Come on, I'll show you."
So they left. I was alone again.
I guessed it was time to call the schools and tell them none of us would be there that day. I put the waffles on the stove and called Mokuba's school. Of course they complied with little question.
Now the hard part; getting my school to accept the next two absences.
I dialed the number of my school and then the extension number to the attendance office.
"Hello?" The receptionist asked.
"Hello, this is Seto Kaiba. I'm calling to tell you that I won't be at school today on account of something rather important that has come up."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Kaiba but that is not an excusable absence. And you may not call on behalf of yourself, like I've told you many times. Absence notices must be given only by a parent or guardian."
"And like I've told you many times, I have no parent or guardian and am of perfectly acceptable age to tell the school that I am not going to be there."
"How old are you, sir?"
How many times did I have to tell this woman? It must have been at least the ninth. "Like I've said, many times, I am 19-years-old. Eighteen is the acceptable age, and I surpass that. So just mark me absent for today. And tomorrow, come to think of it."
"But you do not have an excusable absence."
"No? But I have the flu."
"That's not what you said before, sir."
"I just said that something important had come up, but failed to mention what exactly."
"Sir, are you trying to be facetious again?"
"No, I'm trying to tell you that I'm going not going to come to your damn school, but it's turning out harder than first anticipated."
She sighed. "Is that all, sir?"
I thought of how I was going to do this. "You know of the boy Joseph Wheeler?"
"Your worst enemy? I've heard of him."
"Well I can tell you that he's not going to be in either because he's getting high in his house. I've seen him."
"Getting high, sir?"
"Yes. I believe it is illegal drug use."
That got her attention. "Illegal? Are you sure?"
"Quite. I think it wise if you send the police, and mark him absent for the next week or so."
"Mark him absent, wha…Sure, that is my job after all."
"Now call the cops. Make sure they're there quickly."
"Yes sir, right away! Thank you for the information. That boy, always making trouble, I'll make sure they suspend him for this!"
"Very well. But, there is one more thing."
"Oh yes, what?"
"You didn't hear this from me."
"Oh...oh, of course sir! Obviously, yes…"
"Excellent. But do call me when the outcome of the chase arrives in your possession."
"Oh yes, yes, I will."
"Very good. Now have a nice day."
"I will sir, it looks like I will."
We hung up.
Now, you're probably wondering why the hell I did that. I'll tell you. Wheeler's father was still at his house, I knew, (either that or he was out getting drunk), thus in the direct spot of danger. As much as I wanted them to kill him, (and there was no doubt in my mind that they would if they hadn't already done so), I wasn't sure how Wheeler would take his father's murder, (which would be his own fault in Wheeler's mind). Would he be so upset that he would set out to kill the whole Mafia? Probably not. But what if Wheeler didn't have any other legal guardians and was sent to Child Services? I knew very well what his future would be then…and it hurt me strangely enough.
So, by sending the police there, I had perhaps stopped the killing of a very annoying, very drunk man that just happened to be my new obsession's father. The missing Wheeler would be a mystery, but the drug implication would be revealed as bait for them only to come to the house. The police would figure out that there was an anonymous phone caller out there who wanted to stop the murder or something and perhaps had inside information. But the attendance-lady wouldn't give away my identity I knew because she was scared to hell about my status compared to hers and well, that would be the end of that. The police would be baffled like hell, maybe set out to find the missing Wheeler, but first trying to find the group that sent a killer out for such an innocent man. And if they did find Wheeler that wasn't such a bad thing. At least he would be out of my hair and a lie could easily be passed to say why he was in hiding at my house.
But that was the best case scenario. There were all kinds of worse-case scenarios that I didn't let my mind think about, (the most prominent being that Wheeler's father was already dead and Wheeler was accused of killing him in a drug-induced rage so not only was he missing and but he was a killer and I was harboring him. No lie was good enough).
I tried not to think about it. In war, (which it was beginning to be clear what side people were on), you took chances.
Quickly, I finished the waffles and got them back from "video game heaven", as Wheeler aptly put it, to eat the meal. I would tell Wheeler the defense step I had taken, trying to get the police on our side without even knowing which side they were on, or that there even were sides, but later. Not in the presence of Mokuba.
"Wow, Seto," Mokuba began, trying to get a conversation going. "This looks really good! You always cook well, Seto."
"Thank you, Mokuba," I was sitting down across the table from the two of them and had poured myself a glass of wine, (yes wine goddammit, I was under way too much stress for this…even if it is illegal to drink at 19).
Looking at the yellow-ish, beige-ish squares I had produced as food, I tried to think if I needed this food. When was the last time I'd eaten? Three days ago…Oh I really needed to eat more. I was too damn skinny. Mokuba already thought I was anorexic, but I'm really not. Sometimes I just forget to eat.
I picked up my fork and cut the waffles, (I hadn't even set the knives), into little small pieces, preparing myself to eat, (I always go through this whole, "You deserve to be eating right now" thing with myself because I do not feel like I have complete control when I have to eat, but I know I do have to).
Wheeler seemed to be doing the same, if faster than I did; not having to convince himself the food was safe. He cut the waffle into halves and scooped one half all the way into his mouth, like a barbarian or something.
No sooner had the food entered his mouth then it came back out onto his plate all masticated and dripping with saliva, (much to Mokuba's sheer disgust and cries of, "EW!").
"Goddamn!" He said. "Dis tastes like paper!" He wiped his mouth with the napkin and looked at the food more closely as if to check for poisoning or something.
"Joey, that was disgusting! Ew…" Mokuba scooted his chair farther from the mutt.
I massaged the bridge of my nose. All appetite I had managed to scrounge up was lost. "Wheeler, you are not the only one at this table. If you want to regurgitate your food, please do so outside. Like a dog."
"Hey!"
"I'll even make a nice little dish for you, round and silvery marked 'Joey's Dish', and you can eat, re-eat and maybe even thrice-eat all the food given to you. Alright?"
Wheeler just looked at his food more closely and said, "Yeah, yeah, yeah."
"Now apologize to my brother for being barbaric."
He looked at me with those shiny brown eyes, hair kind of flopping to one side, stringy and dirty. For a moment all he did was stare, then he said, "I'm sorry Mokub' dat ya' have to live wid such a jerk fa' a big brudda." The one word, "brudda", defined him in a way. A slightly attracting way…why?
But I was in a ready mood. "And you would know all about living with jerks, Wheeler, would you not?"
He shot daggers at me with those luscious—ok, well "luscious" is a seductive word, I shall rephrase: chocolaty eyes, and angrily began re-spooning the food back into his mouth.
That was pretty gross, I must confess.
But Wheeler seemed to ignore our presence for the rest of the meal, continually stuffing his face with the "corrugated" waffles. I guess he got over the taste.
By the time we finished breakfast it was already eleven in the morning. I told Mokuba to get ready for the maids to come and clean up, (although I always make him clean his own room, for it builds character in a kid, I'm told, to give them just the right amount of responsibility), and he did so.
In the meantime I told Wheeler of my actions.
"What? You told them I was a drug addict?"
"Not a drug addict, you were just using." We were in a various living room. "Now sit and let me finish."
He plopped on a couch and I told the story to its fullest, (leaning on my desk and trying to be calm while I ignored the penetrating eyes he relentlessly shone on my face), stopping every now and then to shut his mouth, for he kept interrupting with things like, "But, Kaiba, that was totally retarded and…"
When I was done, Wheeler was sitting on the couch in a more confined looking manner. I wondered why.
He had certainly changed since I mentioned his father. I didn't pretend to be confused by this. I knew. And somehow…I felt like I wanted to kill someone, anyone, as soon as I figured it out.
He picked at the loose strands in his hair—the many loose strands. "So…in a nutshell, ya' jus' saved my dad's life and risked all hell jus' fa' dat?"
"There was a little more, Wheeler," I told him, picking up a tanto letter-opener and twirling it between my fingers with the ease that only becomes a killer like myself. "You see, with the police involved, you don't know where this could go. It could be bad or it could be good." I thought and added, "More likely good. So all we have to worry about are the details not fitting in place."
"Like my father already being dead." His tone was short, almost pissed.
I squinted my eyes at him and stopped the twirling for a slight moment, daring him to use that tone again. Go ahead, Pup. "Yes, that is one of them."
Wheeler's eyes had sunken into his head. The shine had gone out of them, (not completely but it dulled). But now he turned to face me right in the squinted eye.
"Look, Kaiba. I don' appreciate ya' getting' all involved in my life like dis. So if you could just—.."
I burst out laughing. An odd laugh, like that of a crazy man. But at the moment I sort of felt like a crazy man so it fit perfectly.
"What are ya' laughin' at?" He looked almost hurt.
I terminated the laugh with a soft chuckle. "Wheeler, you may not realize this, but…unless I get involved, you won't have a life." That resounded through the room for a few seconds before I continued. "In fact, I am your life for the next few days and maybe even months until they're satisfied."
Wheeler's jaw dropped. "Months!"
My eyes widened with sincerity. "Oh yes. In fact, you can bet your bottom dollar—or cent, whichever is easier for you, mutt—on that."
His face got so red when I made that snide remark. Not from anger, though. More from embarrassment. I hadn't meant to embarrass him, for Jesus Christ sake, just make him angry…It felt like I just swallowed a gigantic rock.
Moments passed. There was something I had wanted to say to Wheeler, but I couldn't remember what it was.
We just stared at each other. Much like the way it had been after the assassination attempt.
Wheeler broke the mood when he threw himself—literally threw himself—face first on the couch. "What happened, Kaiba?"
"What do you mean?" I began twirling the tanto again.
He sighed into the pillow. When he spoke again his voice was muffled. "Everythin' jus' got totally fucked up." He sat up slowly. "I mean, yesterday, everythin' was normal." The imperfect yet perfect hands were flattened against his sides in exaggeration. "I went to school, I hung-out wid my friends, I came home, I watched some T.V., and then—wham!" He un-flattened his hands and clapped them together for emphasis. "I'm kidnapped by someone I thought I knew but really didn' and now I'm on some ransom list afraid to go ta'th' police. Stuck wid Rich Boy here, who can' stand da sight of me but wants to save me for some reason." Here he paused and looked confused.
"Why are ya' protectin' me, Kaiba?" Rich fudge-like, (gooey and delicious) eyes searched my face for answers.
I threw the tanto at the wall in protest, (it knifed into the solid plaster with a nice thud). Wheeler jumped, but did not withdraw the question.
This was the one question I had been avoiding. I told the truth.
"I don't know." This time I looked toward the floor in shame.
Wheeler shifted. Then shifted again. And once more. The springs on the couch were constantly creaking.
It was annoying. "Do you have to do that?"
He looked at me. "Guess not." So he got up and was about to leave when he turned around and said, "Ya' know there's nothin' wrong wid helpin' people." Then he sort of looked me up and left.
What the hell was that? Did he just look me up? No…no that's ridiculous, I'm the one with the obsession, not him. What the hell is wrong with my eyesight that I saw him go for rape-by-eyeball? Ok, now I'm just plain exaggerating. That's totally insane. I should stop acting like a fucking four-year-old and get serious. This is life and death.
And just what did he mean by: "Don't be afraid to help people?" Was I? Ok, well, yeah, but…what did that have to mean?
Was Wheeler trying to mess with me? He was, wasn't he? Oh yes I think so. He somehow knew that I would be totally frazzled by that and decided to totally mess with my mind. I wouldn't submit to this!
I felt so embarrassed for some reason. I mean I had managed to sink into a state of denial over what Wheeler had maybe just done, but the embarrassment was still there.
This was totally unbecoming of the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company. Why couldn't I just snap out of it?
After a few minutes, I sat down and just tried to calm myself, my lack of sleep weighed so heavily on my mind. I had slipped passed the realm of tiredness into just plain paranoia and loss of thought. The head-ache I had been warding off was now totally upon me. Just great. Exactly what I needed.
I took a deep breath and thought logically, (my old and feeble friend: Logic). I realized that it didn't matter why the hell Wheeler was staying with me, as long as it just ended as soon as possible. He really was more trouble than he was worth, in more ways than one. Embarrassing ways…
As you can clearly imagine, the rest of the day passed in a sort of tension. The maids came at noon and I told them of Wheeler's semi-permanent presence. As they are paid to show no emotion, the only response I got from them was a slight raising of an eyebrow. Fine with me.
I worked almost the whole day through. I never really relaxed completely, always waiting for the damn secretary to call back, or to receive a threatening message for my employers.
Why do I keep referring to them as "my employers"? Didn't this whole ordeal with Wheeler basically sever our boss-employee relationship? So from now on I'll refer to them as "my enemies". That's more fitting.
With each letter I typed into my laptop, with each number I dialed, with each creak in the floor or thump from the ceiling, I thought I was being tracked. Once step closer to death, entrapment. Another assassin coming to kill me, then? I thought. But it never was. That was the worst part, to be in constant fear of attack and then—never receiving one.
Nothing like being paranoid on a weekday afternoon. By eleven o'clock at night I was ready to throw my tanto at anyone who took a step near me.
I was going on my fifth night without sleep. It was time for some rest, I knew.
Mokuba had long been in bed, and I think Wheeler had soon followed, (I assume that he was given one of the many guest rooms in our hall). Neither of them had mentioned anything to me before heading off that I could remember, (which means of course that they certainly could have given me a long speech about bed times and guest rooms, but I was just too out of it to realize. Such things have happened to me before).
So, I snapped my laptop shut and took a look around the darkened room. It really was pitch in there without the odd bluish light from the computer.
My office room in Kaiba Corp. can be compared to my office in my own house. Sure there are no secretaries in there to disturb the peace, but I still have everything I need to carry out business. So I can just carry on my work from Kaiba Corp. to my home and continue to block out everything of importance except my beloved company. And no I do not have a life, (even though I said I did).
Still afraid of the phone, I got up from my chair slowly and moved out of the room I had been in for about twelve hours in a state of extreme mental deprivation.
Standing on my feet was a harder task than you would recognize. Thus, walking up the stairs was an almost impossible adventure. I counted them on my way up for some reason.
The hallway to my bedroom loomed before me like a never-ending tunnel of complete darkness.
One step. Two step. Three step. Four step. Five step…the door to my room was almost in sight.
Six step. Seven step. Eight step. Nine step…my hand was on the doorknob.
Ten step. Eleven step. Twelve step. Thirteen step. Fourteen step. Fifteen step…I was so near to my large, yet comforting bed…sixteen step…seventeen step…eighteen step…
Sigh…I made it. I removed my shoes, (pet peeve), and stretched out on the water-filled mattress. The maids had fixed the sheets from Wheeler's dirt and sneakers. That was good. But they all left at 9:00, so I couldn't thank them.
Lying vertically on such a comfortable bed that invited much sleep, I stared at my ceiling and the shapes painted on it. You see, my step-father had been a man that never liked to forget a phrase once he used it. So, he made sure that the kanji for the sentence: "Never let your right eye sleep more than your left eye, for then you are half a man" was forever embellished on the ceiling. I never really understood the sentence, I'm pretty sure he made it up, but it sort of makes you think, (sort of).
I stared at the kanji, painted in black on sheer maroon, until the strokes became twisted and blurry and I allowed my eyes to close. Slowly, yes I shouldn't rush it or let one eye close before the other for then I may be a woman or…something…
I thought about Wheeler looking me up and tried to block the image from my mind. "Make inu…" I whispered to the kanji on the ceiling. When I get overly tired I start to speak Japanese, my native tongue, (this particular phrase meant, "Stupid dog…").
Then the phone next to my bed rang.
Eyes shot open.
Were they serious, whoever was calling? Come on, I had just been almost asleep for the first time in almost five days…
Frustrated, I sat up and reached for it, forgetting for a moment that this could have been an enemy.
"What?" I barked into the receiver.
"Mr. Kaiba?" The secretary.
My eyes widened. Finally she called me back, after so long. "Yes, thank you for calling me back…what was it like thirteen hours?"
"I'm sorry sir but this was the soonest I could get information."
I rubbed my sleepy eyes, hoping the tiredness wasn't project in the phone call. "Fine, just fine. What happened?"
She drew a big breath, clearly very excited. "Well, sir, you'll never believe it, but it turned out totally unexpected. We may have a mystery on our hands!"
"Isn't that something…" I muttered.
"So, this is it: When the police arrived at Wheeler's house, they found a murderer right there—just about to kill Wheeler's father...course his father was too drunk to realize that the 'men in uniform' were there to save him and resisted help for a moment but…it wasn't a problem. I-I'm not making this up sir…this really happened…"
"I believe you." So my enemies waited until after they realized I would not go down without a fight before attacking Wheeler's father. I sensed that would happen.
"Good—great! So anyway after they saved the drunk and arrested the almost-murderer, they went to find Wheeler but, here's the really crazy thing, sir—they didn't find him! He just wasn't there!"
"That's impossible…" I said, anxious to know what happened next.
"See, that's what I thought, but it really is true, really!" She paused.
"Well, what happened after that?"
"Oh right…well, the police took the murderer to the station to question him" (she really felt like she owned this case. I felt bad that she didn't have a life) "and found out that he was working for the Mafia! The real Mafia! The one and only…oh, you know, sir, the ones that all the rumors are about saying that they work outside of town? I thought it was an old teenager story, but it seems that they're back in business!"
"This has turned out to be interesting…" Weird. Why would the Puppet surrender the information that he worked for the mafia so easily?
"No, this is the really interesting part: As soon as the police found out who the man worked for, they dropped the case."
"What?" How could this be?
"Yes, it's true! They dropped all charges against the man and gave up the brief search for Wheeler. They won't even pursue the drug case!"
"That…that…doesn't make sense…" It didn't…
No, wait. Yes it did. I suddenly remembered a piece of information I had gotten about three years before. The police and the mafia had an old "agreement". The Black Hand would respect the police and their families, as long as they let them do business. My heart sank…
"Sir? I have a question."
"Yes, what is it?"
"Is that legal?"
"Not in the slightest."
She gasped. "Really? Then we can sue, or something! Right, couldn't we do that?"
We could but I didn't want to. As crazy as it was, this could actually work to my advantage… "Actually, we couldn't. The law doesn't work that way where you can sue police." Lying seemed necessary.
"Oh it does…oh…"
"Yes…you have been so helpful, you know that?"
She seemed pleased. Very pleased. "Oh, well, you know…I know a guy that knows a guy and well he has a son in the police department…you know…"
"I do." I leaned back on the bed. "In fact, I know so well, that I want to use your friend of a friend's son again and get more information out of him and call me when you do? Any information will do. Just keep me posted."
At this she was hesitant. "Well, sir, you know, I'm not really supposed to be doing this, I don't think—.."
Yet, I needed her. She was good at getting information. Usefulness was I quality I liked in people. So I decided to do a nice thing for her. "What's your name, Miss?" I asked.
"My name? Oh yes, my name…well it's Regina, actually…."
"Regina? Pretty. What's your last name?"
"Markston…"
"Regina Markston? Is that it?"
"Yes…sir, why—.."
"Are you married, Ms. Markston?"
"Well, umm, no sir I'm not, but I was about thirty years ago until my husband passed away from a heart attack. Hereditary heart disease, I'm afraid…"
"That's very sad."
She sniffled. "Yes, well…you go on, you know?"
"Yes, I know. What's your favorite flower, Miss Markston?"
"Favorite flower? Well, I suppose it would be tulips, sir…yes…"
"What color?"
"Yellow…"
"Alright then. Yellow tulips it is. I'll have a dozen sent you by tomorrow morning. In payment for your trouble, alright?"
"Oh my goodness, sir, that is way too kind—.."
"I do not believe it is. You are very useful, Miss Markston. The tulips are the least I can do for you."
"Why, thank you very much sir! I try!"
"I know. Now be sure to call me when you get anything new on this case of ours, yes?"
"Yes of course, sir! Definitely."
"And this is still a secret, correct?"
"Of course…"
"Good. Now have a nice night, Miss Markston."
"Oh, wait sir!"
"Yes?"
"Do you need my address or anything? For the flowers…"
"Oh that won't be necessary, Miss Markston." Just the right amount of forcefulness and a hint of threat…
"It won't?"
"Why no. Now have a good evening." I hung up.
I should have started writing I list of everyone now officially on or off my side. It seemed that I had lost the police to my enemies but had gained the widow and full time attendance-record-official at Domino High: Miss Regina Markston.
It could have been worse, believe it or not.
What troubled me now was the involvement of the police. Would they hunt me down to uphold their end of the old bargain or just pretend it never happened? I didn't know…why did I always have to know everything? I just wanted sleep…
I flopped down on the bed, lying vertically but this time on my stomach and not my back.
Damn the world. It was such a horrible place…except for Wheeler…he wasn't so bad, even if he did look me up…
I lost track of things…and then…
The door opened behind me. I didn't get up to see who it was, just kept lying there. Didn't care.
Damn, my back was sore from all this tension…
Footsteps lead up to my bedside. I still remained motionless. Strong hands pressed into my back…my aching muscles were pressed in circles…little circles…strong hands…young hands, but not female.
I was afraid at first of who this person was, for I had not looked, but soon I felt the fear evaporate and then there was only the relief. My tension slipped away…never had I felt this calm before with another person…
That same person was now sitting on my back with skinny legs and a slight but built frame, still massaging my back.
The hands moved to my neck and rubbed the build of tension in the crania. I moaned a little at the liberated feeling. The fingers were slender and course, but still so young…
As I lay there, becoming ever the less nervous, I began to become also aware of the building arousal I felt. I had I feeling I knew who this person was, was I willing to give myself to him?
Before I had time to think about it, I felt a mouth come down and kiss the side of my neck ever so lightly. The lips were so soft, but their effect felt like cold-hot fire on my skin.
Gently, slowly, a tongue slipped out of said lips and licked at my neck very lightly. I moaned again. Liberation did not describe…
The mouth and tongue moved along the side of my neck to the back of it again and began kissing and licking very soothingly. It felt good, even if it was illicit.
Just as I started to be lost in the feeling of not only pure lust but also total calmness, the mouth decided to kiss more forcefully and even began to nibble a little on the flesh it found there. That was slightly not as calm as it had been…
Now my eyes were open. The mouth began panting and kissing harder…and harder—for me?
I wanted to turn over and meet this person who I knew but didn't know, but his legs were holding me down. Squeezing me in place so I couldn't move.
I felt his hardness as well as my own, but didn't care, I just wanted to turn over and see him for God's sake…but my struggling only amounted to his advantage.
He bucked on my back and kissed harder and harder…and—I was enjoying the roughness.
Intensity increased until—"Joey…" I panted his name out and was suddenly able to turn over. I looked him straight in the face as he ripped off my shirt. Brown eyes were searching my face frantically for love and excitement I knew, but…
He was crying tears of blood.
The sound of the phone ringing blasted through my ears. I opened my eyes and sat straight up with the one word, "Joey!"
Sweat streamed down my face, all over my body actually…I was alone and all my clothes were still on. But the emotions from the dream were still clinging to my thoughts.
It had been a dream and nothing more. Damn hentai dream.
However, lust was not the only thing I felt, (although I did notice that I was unusually hard). I was afraid of that last scene. He was crying…tears of blood.
Blood from where? Me? Had I done that? How? Who the hell had hurt him?
The phone was still ringing. Ringing and ringing…who was it at this damn hour?
Then I knew. Who else?
Quickly, I took the phone off the cradle and then slammed it back down again. Just go away, damn you!
It stopped ringing for a moment. I breathed…relief…
Then it started again. Fear gripped me.
I needed to get control over myself. This was ridiculous being scared of people and things like phones.
I picked up the accursed thing and said, "Kaiba?" very forcefully.
"Running, are we, Seto Kaiba?" A woman's voice…rich with an unidentifiable accent.
"D.B. Just the woman I wanted to talk to. How are you?" Despite my other emotions, strength was the one that had to project the most.
"Actually, not so good, Seto Kaiba. You see there is this slight…pest…that refuses to follow instructions like any little pest does. I want to take care of this pest—kill this pest even—but will not because I have pride in myself and what I do, which is more than I can say for this pest, you see."
"Did you call to insult me or actually tell me something?"
"Tell you something. Will you listen or run away like you have been?"
"Listening as you speak right now, My Love." She hated when people called her that.
"Well. I think this has all gotten out of hand. Just today one of our Puppets was arrested for trying to carry out honorable business. You need to just do your job or we need to do it for you. That's how it works, yes?"
"Not this time."
"Yes I see that. Why?"
"It just doesn't. I told you I wouldn't do it from the beginning and yet you still—.."
"No, Seto Kaiba. Actually what you said was that you 'couldn't' do it, not that you wouldn't. So I'm interested: What makes the so-called impenetrable Seto Kaiba so easily defeated by such a boy as this Joseph Wheeler? What brings a mighty killer to his knees, hmm?"
She wished she could get to me. "What do you want?"
I could hear her exhale smoke from the phone line. "Tomorrow…or today actually as it is." The time was 1:00 a.m. "The office. We need to discuss this. I wouldn't bring your man-whore Wheeler but I would bring your katana."
"Is this a showdown?"
She laughed richly and choked on her smoke. I waited for her to come back down. "Not in the slightest. This is a Meeting. The Meetings will no longer be friendly as they were before, you see. This is the setting of the Meetings from now on. Bring your katana. Oh yes, the infamous sword of your father."
"Step-father," I corrected her. "And it certainly isn't anymore."
"Yes, yes. Deny it all you want. You can't forget your past. Or your future for that matter…" Rather abruptly she hung up.
I put the phone down and kicked my legs over the side of the bed.
My brain was beyond thought. Too much…way too much…
The past, the future. Both were filled with death, pain, and hurt. The past was behind me but…the future I had yet to live.
A/N: Well, how was it? Boring until the end, right? (why are my chapters always like that?) This chapter was probably the most difficult to write so far. I don't know why, but I guess maybe because I was ever-trying to make sure it wasn't too graphic because I so hope that no one kicks me off for this…I don't know if I am eligible to be kicked off but it's always an authoress's fear, you know? Ok things to know: This was my first time trying to write a mild sex-scene so if it sucked I apologize. I'm new at this, sorry! Also, the thing with the police. First of all, Seto's scheme was a little confusing, don't feel bad if you were a little confused by it…I was… Second, I have absolutely nothing against them—really, if you thought I did because I made them do illegal business, please don't! My father was a policeman and now he is a firefighter so I have absolutely no grudge. I guess that's about it…if anyone's wondering why I put that in at all, it was to tie up the loose end of Joey's father and the police themselves. So, yeah.
This chapter took me three days to complete, (it also took an argument with my brother to get him to turn off the effing television so I could concentrate…sorry, but you know how hard it is to have ideas but not be able to put them on the paper!), and I think for a while there I stopped living and thought that my sole purpose in life was to finish this. I know that doesn't make sense, but…it was so long: 24 pages! (oh and if anyone cares, the total number of pages in this story so far is 73. I'll keep putting the number pages in each ending notes, if anyone cares...)
So, please review! I so love all of you! Thank you so much and I will try to update as soon as possible!