Chapter Six

While all of these disasters were taking place, no one actually knew why many of the Duel Monsters were rising up against them the way that they had. The Dark Magician Girl that Yugi and Atemu had befriended in the past had said that the two worlds had originally lived in harmony and peace, so now that the barrier had been broken, it seemed strange that the creatures appeared to be vicious. Even during Doom, their invasion of the world had seemed harmless. They had merely wandered about, fascinated by the modern buildings and the people. But that was decidedly not the case this time. Raphael and Alister had wondered several times if Doom Reborn was responsible for what had happened, but even if that mysterious organization had set them loose, why would that have caused them to turn against humanity?

After thinking on it further, Raphael had come to a possible conclusion that Doom Reborn was controlling the beasts in some way—yet he honestly did not see how that would have happened. Surely the Duel Monsters would be stronger than to let humans determine their every move. And Doom Reborn, save for its mysterious leader, did not seem all that powerful as of yet. If the organization had everything it needed, after all, there would be no need to bother Raphael and his friends to get information from them. Raphael could not have imagined the full truth of the situation.

Alister was sitting in the window seat in the living room when Raphael went back downstairs after talking with Valon. The blonde man sighed, seeing Alister's far-off expression. Everything that had occurred in the past few hours had come as an extreme shock to both of them. Alister had been the one to find Valon and bring him home, and Raphael was somewhat amazed that the redhead had actually succeeded. Valon was headstrong and stubborn, and it seemed that with amnesia he was back to thinking of Alister in the way he had when they had first met. Raphael had to wonder what was different this time around, unless it was the subconscious memories of the friendship the three of them had.

"It's interesting, how things happen," Alister spoke abruptly. He had known that Raphael had entered the room, though he had not given any indication of that.

Raphael sighed, sitting down. "It is," he agreed, "but what are you referring to?"

Alister continued to gaze out at the night sky as he spoke. "We thought Valon might be dead for these past two months," he answered, "and right before his accident, he had believed the same about us. Now, in a way, Valon is dead . . . and we might as well be, to him. He doesn't remember us, and I doubt he's going to want to stay here."

Raphael was silent for a while before answering. "Maybe," he said at last. "When I talked to him, though, he acted as though he likes it here—and that he likes us—more than he's willing to admit. I'm sure he's still somewhat wary, but I don't think he wants to leave all that much." He could see how frustrated Alister was about everything, and how melancholy the younger man was as well. Alister would most likely always be aloof and cold to an extent, but that did not change his caring for Raphael and Valon. He had been just as sad and distraught over Valon being gone in the past two months as Raphael had been. Though he had not said so in words, Raphael had known it from his actions. He had grown even more quiet, withdrawing into himself—the way he had been when they had first met during Doom. His ventures out of the house had become more frequent, and when he had stayed in his room he often did not come out for hours. Now, with the fact that Valon did not remember them, Raphael was reminded all the more of the way things had been during the first weeks after they all had met.

"Heh. Well, I imagine we'll soon see," Alister responded, leaning back against the wall.

"Yes," Raphael agreed, "we will." He laid his hand gently on Alister's shoulder. The redhead started at first, but then relaxed again, not minding the contact the way he might have in the past. Maybe, Raphael decided, not everything is the same as when we first met.

The ride to the Taylor home was mostly silent at first, until Ryou ventured a cautious question. "How has Tristan been doing lately?" he inquired of Téa, looking over at her. The truck ran over a bump, startling them both and causing Oreo to hide in the British boy's shirt. Solomon muttered to himself, deciding that he needed to have the vehicle's shocks examined.

Téa bit her lip. "Well . . . you know how upset he was a few months ago, before this invasion even happened," she said slowly. The events she was referring to were not something that any of them discussed often, as it made all of them feel very uncomfortable, but the fact was that Duke Devlin had been killed almost exactly three months previous. He had been beaten to death by an unknown group of people and then found by Yugi, who he had managed to give a warning to before dying—that the gang was angry with all of them for stopping the original Doom organization and that now they were killing all who had been involved. Tristan had been stunned and upset, even more so because of the fact that he had been the last person who had seen Duke before that had happened and they had quarreled.

Ryou nodded slowly. "Of all of us, I believe he was the closest to Duke," he said quietly, petting Oreo as she poked her head out of the collar of his shirt. He himself had not known the dice master that well, but he had been stunned at the news of his death. Naturally it was a shocking turn of events. Duke had been young—only a year or so older than the rest of them. To think of people being so ruthless as to murder those still in their teenage years made Ryou shudder in horror.

Téa sighed. "Actually, I don't think any of us really knew him at all," she remarked. Ryou turned to her questioningly. The girl sighed. "Yugi says that a lot, and he made me realize that it's probably true. Duke always came off as worldly and superficial. He would flirt with the girls, act obnoxious, and just really seemed to think that he was great. But he was still our friend." She looked down at her hands. "I realized that he never did let any of us get very close to him. If one of us asked him a question about him or his life, he'd give a short answer and shrug it off. And he rarely ever hung out with us. He always seemed to stay back, as if he thought he didn't really fit in."

Ryou frowned, thinking about this. As he recalled the few times he had met Duke, he discovered that Téa seemed to be correct in her assessment. The raven-haired boy had always been somewhat distant, though he had been friendly enough and a bit of a womanizer. Sometimes Ryou had gotten the feeling that the other teenager's conceited behavior was just an act. "I haven't really seen Tristan lately at all," he spoke again, in a half-apologetic tone. "I know I should have. . . . I just was never certain what to say. I tried to speak to him once, but he snapped at me." He sighed, glancing out the window and watching a Celtic Guardian saunter down the street.

"I don't think he's ever really gotten over what happened," Téa told him seriously, "especially since he had gotten into that argument with Duke right before . . ." She trailed off with a sigh. "He's been hanging out with Yugi, Joey, and me a lot less. I don't really know what's happened to him now." Ryou could see how sad she looked, and his heart went out to her. "It feels like . . . that I don't know him any more, either."

"Téa. . . ." He looked at her for another moment before self-consciously laying his hand on her shoulder. Though he himself did not feel as close to Téa or to the others as Yugi did, he still thought of her as a friend. But it still seemed to him that the bond between the original four friends—Yugi, Joey, Tristan, and Téa—was not something easily broken or penetrated by others. It was not that they were consciously or unconsciously trying to exclude anyone, but simply that they had been through the misadventures right from the start and that they were extremely close to each other because of that. Ryou could understand that, though he wished sometimes that he had someone who was that close to him.

Téa started, but then looked over at him and tried to smile. "I know I shouldn't be talking like this," she berated. "I still believe in Tristan, and I know we're going to find him. I just wish that I knew some way I could help him. . . ." The truck stopped and she realized that they had arrived at their destination. She had been so caught up in her thoughts that she had not realized at first.

Ryou smiled sadly as he opened the door. "Sometimes," he said, speaking from past experience, "there's nothing that can be done. Sometimes all you can do is just be there."

Téa nodded slowly, knowing that he was right.

Seto glanced over at Mokuba, who was still curled up on the couch. He quickly realized that his younger brother was sound asleep. The businessman smiled slightly and stood up from his desk, laying his coat over Mokuba as a blanket. The child mumbled, snuggling under it. Seto ruffled Mokuba's hair slightly before returning to his chair.

He gave a sigh as he looked out the window at the sky over the property. A Thousand Dragon was flying past the moon as it peeked from behind a cloud, becoming silhouetted against it. Mokuba was right to be worried over what they were going to do about this disaster, but he still did not know what could be done. He honestly felt that the best thing he could do was to continue living his life as he had been. He could not stop the beasts from rampaging the city, but if it came to where they were going to go after his company and his brother, he would fight.

When the phone abruptly rang, he frowned at it suspiciously before picking it up. It was going on for past midnight; who would be calling at this late hour? "Kaiba," he snapped, glancing at Mokuba to make certain that he was still asleep. The child stirred, rolling over, but pulled the coat closer around himself and did not awake.

"Well, you're as cordial as ever," a dry voice announced. It was muffled, as if the speaker had placed a cloth over the speaker.

Seto's expression of annoyance only deepened. "Who is this?" he demanded. "If it's you, Pegasus, then I don't need to be bothered with your trivial games."

"No, hardly." There was a matching sound of annoyance on the other end of the line. "It isn't Pegasus, but it really doesn't matter who it is. The only thing you need to concern yourself with is the fact that you may have an old enemy returning—one that will want your company, among other things."

Seto was tired of cryptic conversation. He stood up, his eyes narrowed darkly. "Look, whoever you are, I want some better answers than this! What makes you think an old enemy is coming back? And who is it?" At this point, he was still certain that this was some sort of a crank call. He could not think of any enemies that would be returning and wanting his company, unless it was Pegasus up to his old tricks. That's all I need! he thought to himself in disgust.

"I don't have any concrete answers yet," came the equally irritated reply. "But you're an intelligent sort of person. Try figuring out the answers yourself. After all, it doesn't take much to put the puzzle pieces together, if you know where to look. There is a clue in the newspaper that you should take stock in. What's more, there are several people in this city who may know something about what is taking place." There was a pause. "But one thing you can't do, Kaiba, is to assume that the one behind things this time around is the same one from before. The organization may be the same, but not the person." With that final mysterious statement, the telephone was hung up and Seto heard only a dial tone.

Frustrated, he nearly slammed the phone down as he placed it back in its cradle, then glanced to the newspaper on the edge of his desk. The stranger's words had definitely aroused his suspicions—and curiosities. Slowly he reached for the paper and spread it open, scanning through until he discovered what must have been the story referred to. He clutched the edges of the sheets, nearly crushing them in his hands.

"So, we're going to play this game again?" he muttered. "Well, just wait. You won't get hold of my company again this time."

He was so incensed that for the moment he forgot the person's other words of advice.

Dartz hung up the telephone with a sigh, brushing the turquoise locks out of his golden eyes. "Under normal circumstances, I never would have called you," he spoke low in the desolation of the area. "But I'll be much too preoccupied with my own business to bother rescuing yours, if they take it over. At least if you can handle that much, it will save me the trouble of chasing those fools down. They've already caused enough trouble, wouldn't you say?" He glanced up to the dragons roaring overhead as he stepped out of the telephone booth.

The former king of Atlantis had learned much in the last few hours. After discovering the article concerning the rebuilding of the Paradius building, he had investigated around town and found that a branch of the company was secretly operating in a skyscraper that had been abandoned after an extensive fire several months previous. The cause of the fire was still unknown, and the businesses that had once been in the building had moved elsewhere, finding it cheaper to buy a new location rather than repairing the old one.

It's rather interesting, he noted, that the Duel Monsters are continually flying and walking over there. He had observed several doing so recently, and indeed, that was how he had come upon the building in the first place. There must be a connection between them and this . . . new version of Paradius. He intended to thoroughly investigate all angles of this mystery. More and more, he was realizing that the possibility of a new Doom organization must be the truth. And he was highly displeased.

I will see to it that you're stopped . . . somehow, he said silently as he headed back toward the building. But what I wonder now is, Have you started taking souls yet?

Serenity paced the floor of Tristan's home nervously, her heart racing. So much was happening this night—first her and Joey's mother had been taken, and now this with Tristan! And what was more, she could not forget how Duke Devlin had died those three months earlier.

She had been heartbroken when Joey had come to her and quietly told her the news. Even though she had known something like this would surely happen some day, she had not truly wanted to believe it would. She remembered how she had cried for hours, thinking of Duke being beaten until he no longer had the strength to fight back. She hated the thought that he was deliberately killed even more than if it had been an accident. And the warning he had given had frightened her extremely. If the culprits who had done that wanted everyone involved, then they would target Joey as well, among others.

Actually, she reflected, it seemed strange that after Duke's death there had not been any other attacks. Why was that? And why would they have started with Duke? True, he had been involved during the Doom incident, but not as much as some others had been.

Then she gasped. What if Tristan's disappearance was the next disaster? Perhaps they had wanted to wait long enough that everyone would get confused, and then they would strike again! She had to grip a nearby chair to steady herself.

Joey blinked, seeing Serenity's stricken expression. "Hey," he said, coming over to her, "what is it, sis?" He tried to grin. "We'll find Tristan before long. He . . . he probably just went out for a motorcycle ride or somethin'. . . ." He knew he did not sound convincing, but he did not want Serenity to see how worried he actually was. Serenity already had enough on her mind.

Serenity shook her head. "Joey," she whispered, looking up at him with panic-stricken eyes, "what if those terrible people who killed Duke are coming after Tristan now?" Quickly she explained her thoughts of the past moment, while Joey stared at her in complete and stunned shock.

"Man!" he yelled when she was done. "I never even thought of that!" He clenched a fist, hurrying to relay the theory to Yugi in the kitchen. If Serenity was right—and it did seem possible—then they had to find Tristan immediately. Joey was not going to let Tristan be another victim. And he knew Yugi berated himself for not being able to save Duke. That could not happen again.

"Never thought of what?" Téa asked in confusion as she and Ryou were being let in just then by a distraught Mrs. Taylor.

Serenity looked up when she saw them and hurried over. "It's just awful!" she declared, her hazel eyes filling with tears. "I just thought of something awful, and I don't want it to be true, but I . . . I'm afraid it is, Téa!"

"What on earth is it?" Ryou exclaimed, his eyes widening.

Neither of them were pleased at what Serenity had to say, but they both agreed that it was possible. After consulting with the others and trying to reassure Tristan's mother, the five teenagers determined that they should search all over Domino immediately, including the spot where Duke was killed. Yugi could not help wishing again that Atemu was here to assist them.

I just hope we'll find Tristan in time, the boy said silently. We have to! Joey was right—Yugi was not willing in the least to let another friend die. They were going to save Tristan . . . somehow.

If it was not already too late.

He woke up feeling himself being kicked in the ribs, followed by a dark, heartless laugh. At first his fogged mind could not place it, but when he realized whose voice possessed such a laugh, his blood ran completely cold.

No, he thought to himself, still attempting to return fully to consciousness. That can't be . . . he wouldn't. . . . Oh man . . . what the heck happened to me, anyway? The last thing he remembered was how he had been riding his motorcycle all over town, angry and trying to sort things out in his mind. A sharp curve had come up, he had gone around it, and he remembered no more after that.

Maybe I'm dead or something, he mused, but then decided that was not the answer. Surely dead people did not feel such pain. His whole body ached, most likely from the result of whatever sort of crash he had been involved in. Aw man . . . my bike's probably totalled! he berated before being kicked again.

He felt a wave of dizziness wash over him as he struggled to open his eyes. It seemed to be dark all around him, but abruptly a spotlight came on directly over the person who had kicked him. Squinting, he forced himself to look up and past the shoulder-length raven hair to see the entity's face.

"Okay," he growled, pulling himself into a kneeling position, "who are you and why do you keep kicking me?" He narrowed his eyes, reaching up to grab at the person's clothes. He tried to ignore his muscles screaming in protest as he did so. "You sounded really familiar when you laughed, and if it wasn't that it was impossible, I'd say you had to be a guy I knew. But since he's dead, you can't be him." He glared. "And he wouldn't be acting like this anyway."

A smirk was his reply as the other boy began twirling a piece of dark hair around his finger. "You're right, Tristan," he said, spitting the name out as if he hated the taste of it, "I couldn't be him. I'm not him. Well, anyway—not the one you knew." He stepped closer, flipping the extraordinarily wavy piece of hair away from his face and more clearly revealing his bright red eyes. The Seal of Orichalcos glowed firmly on his forehead.

Tristan swallowed hard, feeling dizzy again—and this time not entirely from his injuries. "What are you talking about?" he cried harshly. "And what's with the Seal? We got rid of the Orichalcos and Doom when the Pharaoh defeated Dartz!"

"Oh come on. Haven't you ever heard that old nightmares always come back to haunt you?" The raven-haired boy bent down to Tristan's eye level. "I used to be known as Duke Devlin. But that was in another lifetime. I'm not him anymore, Tristan."

Tristan forced himself to hold still, unwavering under the cruel eyes. This was too much to suddenly wake up to. This person was claiming that he once was Duke—but he could not have been. They had buried Duke. Tristan had seen the body before the casket had been closed at the quiet graveyard service they had held. He had been bruised horrifically and lacerated in many places. This person seemed to be in perfect health. Of course, three months had passed, but bodies simply did not come out of the grave and be healed.

And Tristan had also never even seen Duke wearing his hair out of the ponytail, he realized. He could not imagine Duke switching to the style it was in now, flying freely over his shoulders. It just did not seem like him. But the die was hanging from his left ear, and the punkish mark graced his left cheek. Even his clothes and armbands were Duke's.

But Tristan clenched his fists. He knew this was not truly his friend. Duke did not act like this. Tristan refused to believe that what he was being told was the truth. Duke would not get involved with the Orichalcos. He had been beaten to death by a gang angry at him and the others for halting the original Doom, and he had warned Yugi of it before passing away. "You're lying!" he yelled, furious that his friend was being mocked like this. "What kinda sick person are you!" He would continue to believe that Duke was dead and that this person was a double sent by their enemies to torment him. It was better to believe that Duke was dead than that he was alive and like this. "Duke was my buddy. Sure, we had some disagreements, but that doesn't mean we weren't friends!" I never even told him I was sorry. . . .

The young man claiming that he was formerly known as Duke straightened up. "I'm a servant of the Orichalcos," he announced. "Doom hasn't died, and neither has Dartz's ideal. I'm helping to bring it to life." He smirked. "I arranged for my associates to bring you here, Tristan, because you're going to help too—whether you want to or not." He tossed his hair over his shoulder. "Frankly, I don't care that you and I used to be friends. That's in another lifetime too. You're just going to have to learn to accept it."

Tristan could only glare at him in reply, too angry for words. At last he forced himself to stand up, wincing as he did so. "Duke wouldn't be happy if he knew what you're trying to do," he said darkly.

The other boy laughed in Duke's voice and Tristan was chilled at the maniacal sound. "You know, he really doesn't care," he answered. "I'm all that's left of him."