Mexican Standoff
by Heavens to Bikini Kill (who can't think of anything clever to say)
One
Five men.
One room.
Each and every one staring down the barrel of each other's guns.
I never thought it would happen.
I also never thought that it would happen with Kaiba Seto pointing his gigantic 9mm at my forehead.
My .45 automatic was preoccupied with someone else.
That someone else had his Baretta semiautomatic right at another man's stomach.
The man with the Baretta at his belly held a pump shotgun, aimed right for the final man.
The final man kept his Colt 45 right at Kaiba's heart.
Barely anyone breathed. Kaiba pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose with his middle finger. My gun wasn't going to move anytime soon.
The question was: who was going to shoot first?
Sorry, but I'm not exactly brave enough to kill a man just because everyone found it necessary to whip out their heat.
I'll bet, though, that you're wondering who exactly is busy pointing guns at each other?.
This will be very complicated to explain, so let's trudge through all of the info.
First, the actual people.
Primarily was Kaiba Seto, and I'm sure many of you are already familiar with him. If not, allow me to refresh your memory. CEO of Kaiba Corp, duelist genius, so on and so forth. I'm sure you've heard of him. Within our little gun-toting circle, he was known as Mr. Mars. Not that I intend to call him that, of course.
Next in our lovely lineup lay Nakai Johnny, a man with a surname that was obviously Japanese but a first name that just didn't match. His dad had visited America a few months before he was born and decided that he absolutely loved American culture and everything to do with it. Thus, he gave his first son the most American name he could think of. His birth certificate actually reads Johnny, not John, not Jonathan. His code name was Mr. Jupiter.
This bring us to Karoto Kengo, an unfortunate fellow. All of his life, he had been told that he was incredibly attractive, and yet he only seemed to get any action from men. He is decidedly straight, or so he tries to convince us. It'll be very easy to think of him as Mr. Venus.
Let's move on to Naoki Akira, a man with two first names. He was about as campy as they came, donning ridiculous cowboy hats, tight designer shirts, and heeled boots. Yes, heeled boots. The first day I met him, he tried to tell me how I should style my hair. He exists only through his stereotypical behavior. Better known as Mr. Uranus.
And then there was me. Jonouchi Katsuya, the rag-tag street punk who preferred a good fist fight over shooting any day. You will never call me this, but they branded me Mr. Neptune.
And here we were, five men who for the most part didn't know each other a month ago, suddenly all pointing guns at each other, breathing heavily with a mix of anger and nervousness, each and every one of us determined to make it out of that room alive.
It was only a month ago when we had all met under one man, all thinking that within a month we were all going to be filthy rich in platinum bars.
It's a simple pity that none of us have the ability to tell the future.
A/N: Okay, I deleted "Speed Kills" cos I hated it. This, however, will be shorter than my other fics, and the chapters will be written out of chronological order.