Chapter Seven
"We have a breaking news report from Domino City," said the anchorman. "Here is Rick Ferenzi, live."
"I am here in Domino City, which is now the scene of major chaos. Apparently an unknown warfare tycoon has launched his— one second, folks." Rick had to throw himself aside as a piece of metal the size of a computer crashed to the ground. Rick got up and dusted off his glasses. "Well, this is a red-alert terror zone, as you can see. Various urban assault vehicles, which include fighter jets, tanks, and some weapons we have never seen before are attacking Domino City. The U.S. army has been notified, and combat specialists will arrive within a day. Unfortunately this might be too- Oh!"
A huge explosion was heard, and the television screen was filled with white noise.
The wolf shivered, and unfolded herself from the rug she was lying on. She would be glad when this was all over.
She trotted to the cockpit, where a teenager sat at the controls. His clothes were unremarkable: simple brown leggings with bindings at the ankles, boots, a sleeveless shirt and a navy blue cape. He wore pilot's goggles over his eyes, and operated the gadgets of the airplane with an air of expertise. "What is it, Ramla?" he asked.
"The news reporter covering Domino City just got exploded," she replied. "We need to get there soon, or Leachman'll burn it to the ground."
"We're almost there. See-"
He stopped, the breath caught in his throat.
What had once been the skyline of Domino City was afire. Smoke billowed from the city as if a dragon were on the rampage. The ocean around it reflected a deep bloodred, and the sky was also sporting crimson.
"Oh, gods," breathed Marik. He plucked the radio from its clip on the dashboard and spoke into it. "All fighters come in. This is Alpha One. Beta One and Gamma One, take your fighters to flank Alpha's arrowhead advance. Beta, go to the left, and Gamma, go to the right. Delta, cover below, and Epsilon, above. Squadrons Zeta to Lambda, you are in charge of combating Leachman's fighter jets. Mu to Rho, take on the ground assault vehicles. Sigma to Omega, you make sure that the civilians are protected. Now move in! Over and out."
The twenty-four squadrons flew into formation. There were twenty fighters to each squadron, and 480 jets total in Marik's fleet. There was also the flagship, which was so large it could house fifty of the fighter jets inside of it at one time. This ship was hovering (if it was possible for something that weighed more than two hundred tons to hover) five miles out to sea, waiting for the return of the fighter jets.
The wolf regarded Marik with emotionless, silver eyes. "What if this does not work?"
"It will work. I have faith in my pilots," Marik said firmly, but the wolf detected a slight falter in his face. She caught him with a deep stare that seemed to chill his very bones.
"If my sister is killed," the wolf hissed dangerously, "All will be lost. The balance will be upset, the Time Cleft will rent the world in two, the-"
"Ramla," pacified Marik nervously. "Just calm down. My pilots can take on Leachman's fleet, I know they can. Now, let's review the plan."
"Find the Pharaoh, find the Priest, find my sister," said the wolf in an almost bored voice. "Fight the bad guys, pick up any extra people, and get the hell out of here." She spat out the last words with iciness that made Marik's skin tingle painfully. With a snarl, the wolf turned and slunk out of the room, her tail held high.
"Jeez," said the co-pilot. "Temper, temper."
Marik shrugged. "Well, she grows on you."
"Hopefully."
"She's just nervous, I think. It's been… a long time since she's actually been in hand-to-hand combat."
He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "All right. Let's go." The plane picked up speed, and cruised off toward the city.
The room was filled with smoke. Coughing, Seto crouched low to the ground, where there was less of it. He steadied himself as another muffled boom rocked the building. He could hear glass breaking somewhere.
His brain seemed to be functioning slower than usual. He had to get out of here, or he would be burned. But the question on his mind would not go away: what was happening? It had felt like a large earthquake at first, and then the fire had started, but the humming noise could be nothing other than some sort of plane. But why would planes be attacking Domino City?
Got to get out of here…
His briefcase sat by the door. Seto grabbed it, and got on his knees to locate the doorknob. There it was- he twisted it, and the door opened.
The smoke in the hall was worse. He had to stop every ten feet to cough. And then thought—where am I going? It would be too risky to try and get to the ground floor. So he would have to go up to the roof. Luckily, there was a helicopter up there, and he could use it to escape. If he didn't get shot down by a plane…
A small light in the shape of a triangle glowed out of the hazy darkness. Of course! The elevator! The power was still on.
With a shaking hand, he pressed the button. There was a faint ding as the doors open, and he crawled inside.
Slumping on the floor, he closed his eyes and rested for a moment. And then the horrible realization came to him- where were Mokuba and Samira?
"Good morning," said the automated voice of the elevator, totally oblivious to the present chaos. "Which floor would you like?"
"Roof," he said weakly.
"Affirmed," replied the automated voice, and the elevator began to move. A sick feeling took hold of Seto, the sensation that an iron hand was clenching his stomach. Sometimes one gets this feeling when riding in an elevator, but the uneasiness had nothing to do with his choice of transportation. What if something had happened to his brother? And Samira, she wouldn't know what to do in a crisis like this; she had probably never seen a plane in her life.
He had abandoned them. He had left them to die.
The muffled ding sounded again, and the elevator doors opened. Seto had to force himself to get up and exit the elevator. The sight below only made the queasiness grow even worse.
The whole city seemed to be on fire. Black fighter planes circled like vultures over a dead carcass, swooping in and shooting at buildings. Each gunfire made a distant boom that made Seto's teeth ache. He could hear breaking glass, and even people screaming. And Mokuba and Samira were down there somewhere…
How could he have been so stupid? They were probably dead right now, and it was his entire fault…
He shivered, feeling miserable, and pulled his jacket closer around him. The wind up here was murder. Well, I'd better get into the helicopter.
And then came the sound. It was a small sound, and a rather annoying sound, but it was a sound that Seto most wanted to hear.
Ding.
"Seto!"
The iron hand released from his stomach, leaving a whole herd of fluttery butterflies in its place.
"S-Samira?"
"You're all right! I thought you were dead!"
"So did I."
She dragged Mokuba out of the elevator, for he was lying on the ground, looking very pale.
Seto paled also, and rushed over to his brother. He bent down beside him. "What's-"
"He breathed in too much smoke," Samira said worriedly. "He collapsed in the elevator, fortunately, or I wouldn't have been able to carry him." Seto saw that Samira looked ready to collapse herself; she was breathing heavily, her eyelids halfway shut. "What are we going to do, Seto?"
For once Seto was indecisive. If they got into the chopper, they ran the risk of being shot down by the fighter jets. If they stayed here, they could also be picked off.
He noticed Samira was watching the horizon with an almost impatient look on her face. "What are you looking for?" he asked.
"Oh," said Samira, turning quickly back to him. "Well… actually, there's supposed to be help arriving soon."
"What? How do you know?" he said suspiciously.
Just then a loud humming noise prevented them from conducting any more conversation, and to their horror, it came from a fighter jet, zooming their way.
Samira backed away, as if that might put distance between her and the jet.
It was strange, because as the plane's vibrating whine filled the air, Seto noticed that it had wings, but it did not have regular wheels like a fighter should. In the wheels' place was a set of landing legs like helicopters have. And he realized—
The plane swerved downward, stirring up a vicious wind. It settled on the roof, metal gleaming in the sun. The noise was deafening.
A beam of red light shot through the air. With an earsplitting bang, the helicopter was reduced to a smoking, charred heap of rubble. Their only way of escape was gone.
Mokuba whimpered and began to cough, just as the cockpit of the plane opened. As Seto moved toward his brother, a gun fired. Mokuba cried out in pain, Seto in disbelief and Samira in fear. Bu their shouts were drowned out by a new presence, far louder and frightening than anything. Above the red-tinted sea rose an arrow-shaped formation- a swarm of fighter planes descending from the sky. A new round of bullets whined harshly as the planes led a counterattack. The enemy planes, caught unawares, were exploded right out of the air.
"Mokuba!" shouted Seto over the din. Chills ran through his heart… his brother laid on the ground, blood slowly trickling from a shallow gash in his head…
Smoke and dust whirled, obscuring his vision. More explosions rent the air, shaking the very foundations of the building. He heard Samira shout something next to him, but he couldn't see her, the dust was so thick.
And then a wind stirred as another plane settled on the roof. The smoke cleared to reveal a grisly scene.
The pilot of the fighter that had shot Mokuba was out of his jet, which has been bombed to pieces. Another plane, also with helicopter legs, was perched on the edge of the roof. The glass was tinted, and Seto was unable to see who was inside. But what was happening outside was scary enough.
The pilot grimly produced a huge machine gun from his jacket, took aim briefly, and fired.
Time seemed frozen… the bullet whizzed through the air, toward… a wolf (a wolf?) standing calmly next to the second plane. But it never made contact. Now the wolf was dissolving in a fog of silver sparks dancing around it, and Seto was reminded strongly of how Samira transformed. He would have glanced over at her to see what she thought, but he was transfixed, and found he could not move.
And then a girl stood where the wolf had been. Jet-black hair falling past her shoulders in wavy locks, creamy, light brown skin, and silver-grey eyes colder than winter. In one swift motion, even as she transformed, she brought a fist up over her head, as if in defiance.
The bullet zinged, deflecting right off of her, for there was some sort of metal cuff clasped about her wrist that shielded her. Seto's breath caught in his throat; no metal was strong enough to withstand a bullet taken at such a close range!
Nanoseconds after the bullet had made contact, the girl launched herself forward, all of her motions still seeming like one smooth movement, divinely choreographed. Airborne, she unsheathed a sword that hung from her waist; the sun glinted off of it in such a way that Seto was blinded. He was glad of this, for he did not want to see the pilot being gutted. There was a blinding flash of violet light, and then it was over.
He let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
And then Samira and the girl were embracing, and he noticed how much alike they were. The warrioress turned to him, regarding him with an icy indifference. "So you are Seto," she said in a voice that brought to mind a cold arctic wind.
Seto was too shocked to reply. He kept silent as the girl bent down next to Mokuba and lightly touched his forehead. She spoke to Samira in some odd language, and Samira nodded. "This boy will live," said the girl. "He suffers a concussion and some blood loss, but he will be fine."
Relief flooded Seto, and almost for a moment, everything seemed better. But it wasn't. Chaos was going on all around them. He opened his mouth to speak, but the girl shook her head. "There will be time for questions later," she said. "We must get into the plane. The Pharaoh needs help."
Wondering what that meant, and if it had anything to do with Yugi, Seto followed Samira and the warrioress, who was carrying Mokuba, into the plane. The entrance was in the belly of the fighter, and the interior was bigger that it looked. They came into a small corridor, which the two girls hurried down. At the end was the cockpit, with a pilot that Seto never knew he would see again.
Marik Ishtar turned and saluted him, nodding his head. "We meet again, Kaiba," he said. Seto nodded courteously back. A co-pilot glanced at them and then went back to adjusting some controls. "What's the news, Ramla?" Marik asked the girl with silver eyes.
"His brother is unconscious," she said, jerking her head toward Seto. "I will bind his head wound, but when we return to the flagship additional treatment will be needed."
"Very well. And of the Pharaoh?"
"We need to reach him quickly. There is not much time."
"Right." Marik pressed some controls and then grasped the joystick, and the jet rose slowly into the air. He turned to the three. "There is a small passenger's room at the other end of the corridor. You should probably buckle your seat belts."
It was very small. No more than six feet high was the ceiling, so Seto had to duck down when they entered. There were four padded seats and seatbelts, but no windows.
They sat in uncomfortable silence as the plane flew across the city. Several times they were jarred by the evasive maneuvers Marik had to make to dodge enemy fire.
Ramla carefully laid Mokuba on her lap. It was obvious that she was very strong, and though the two girls appeared to be related, they emitted very different auras. While Samira was delicate and graceful, Ramla was quietly intense and deliberate. Quite disturbingly, Ramla opened her mouth to reveal four very unnaturally sharp canine teeth, and tore a strip of fabric from her cape, which she wrapped around Mokuba's head to curb the bleeding.
Suddenly a frantic call came from down the hallway. "Ihyangar! Eil-Per'o farakh nenem ihyangar!" It was an alien language, but was strangely familiar. And Seto understood every word. "Fire! The Pharaoh's house has been destroyed by fire!"
All three rose from their seats, unbuckling the seatbelts. Without a word, Ramla handed Mokuba to Seto and transformed. The silver wolf shot out of the room and down the hall. The plane came to a slow halt and the belly-door opened. With a flick of her tail, she left the jet.
Samira and Seto, who was carrying Mokuba, hurried to the cockpit. Marik and the co-pilot sat dourly at the controls. Through the glass, they could see the gaming shop that Yugi lived in. It was in smoking ruins, being consumed by hungry red flames licking at it relentlessly. Something in Seto's brain sort of snapped as he wondered if Yugi was still alive. Should he worry about him? Mixed emotions whirled about in his mind… he didn't know what to think anymore…
Like vultures circling around a carcass, five fighter jets continuously swooped in at the shop, taking potshots at it. And among all of the destruction, a flash of silver told Seto that Ramla was entering the building. The question was, would she come out alive?
And then through the dust, four people struggled through the wreckage, determinedly heading toward the burning house instead of away from it. They were Yugi's friends, Téa, Tristan, Serenity and Joey.
If they're not careful, they're going to get squashed by falling debris, thought Seto.
Another explosion literally rocked the plane, and Samira was thrown against Seto. It was lucky that she didn't weigh very much, or she could have crushed Mokuba. Marik caught her elbow and pulled her back up. "You all right?" he said.
Samira nodded. "Thanks," she said softly. Marik gave her a smile that seemed to send a message as well as warmth.
She turned to Seto. "You should strap Mokuba in, in the passenger room. He needs to rest." Seto nodded grimly and departed, glad to leave. It had been very awkward back there, and he did not want a repeat experience.
"Those people are crazy!" exclaimed Marik, gesturing toward the four outside. "They will get buried!"
Joey and company had stopped a good twenty feet away from the destroyed building, where they stood uncertainly, looking fearfully up at the fire.
And then out of the smoking doorway came three people, dragging a fourth person, an old man. He struggled, and one of his captors bashed him over the head with the butt of their gun. Samira shivered at such cruelty. "That poor old man!" she cried. "We have to do something!"
Marik looked at her sorrowfully. "I cannot. If I risked firing at them, I would hit the old man. Ramla is inside the house, rescuing the Pharaoh-- he is our first priority."
The four newcomers tried to pursue the three thugs, but were not successful. The thugs mounted three hoverbikes, putting the captive on the back of one. They kicked off into the sky and were gone.
He gently set his hand on her shoulder. Lightly Samira leaned into him; eyes glimmering with unshed tears at the brutal vulgarity she had just witnessed.