Disclaimer: I've been trying to earn the money to buy the rights to Yu Gi Oh! by selling hair gel to anime characters, but for some reason my money keeps turning into manga. By magic.
It was dark: dark and quiet. The shadows seemed to wrap around his chest, squeezing his lungs. He had been in this place once before, after his failure in Duelist Kingdom. Pegasus had sent him here, claiming to have stolen his soul, and however loudly he denied the fact, he had never been able to think of another explanation.
The dark had been terrible to him, since. It was fine, sitting in front of the glowing screen of his computers, but in the middle of the night when the nightmares descended and he heard the maniacal laughter once more, darkness had become a thing of bad dreams and bad memories.
A cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and he fought against the urge to cry out. He was terrified of screaming without sound to answer him. Had he been sent there again?
No! No, he could feel solid earth under his feet and cool air chilling his clammy skin. He could hear breathing around him. He closed his eyes in determination; this was no place to have a panic attack. This was no place to be afraid of the dark.
He reached into his coat pocket, his fingers groping for the matchbook that he had placed in there several hours before. It was a good things that he hadn't gotten around to taking it out yet. He clasped his hand around it, pausing a moment to stop his shaking, and withdrew the book, pulling free a match and lighting it with a hissing sound.
Seto Kaiba glared as the faces of Carlson and Joan were suddenly thrown into existence. The three of them and Willy had searched for nigh on half an hour, trying to find the entrance to the underground compound that Joan and Seto had discovered. Finally, their search had been rewarded; Carlson had opened the door to the secret building and they had filed inside.
The door had swung closed behind them with a thud, leaving them in silent, unbearable darkness.
Seto wasn't sure how long it had taken him to recover from his sudden paralysis, but he didn't allow himself to dwell on the occurrence. "Did either of you think to bring a flashlight?"
"I've got one, sir," Carlson answered, and though the match was too dim for the CEO to see what he was doing, he could hear him groping around for something.
"Hurry up, this match is almost–" he cut himself offwith a hiss, dropping the match as it burned his fingers. "Out," he finished dryly, reaching to strike a new one.
A half minute later, Seto had happily replaced the matches in his pocket as Carlson switched on a small flashlight. The goon shone the light slowly around them, and the three of them tracked its movement, taking in their surroundings.
They appeared to be in a nondescript, small, manmade cavern. The walls, floor, and ceiling were smooth, made of a dull gray stone that told them nothing of its origins. Then the light flashed to the far corner and stopped as its controller and his companions stared in surprise at what was displayed in its light.
"Holy son of a…" Carlson murmured. Joan had nothing to say; she frowned at the device, her eyes narrowed in an unreadable expression.
Seto merely raised his eyebrows. "Well. That's an elaborate doorbell if ever I saw one."
It was a gong, akin to what might be found at a temple or an emperor's court. It was perhaps a half a meter in diameter, not very big for an instrument of its kind. A mallet, obviously used for striking the golden disk, hung on the wall beside it.
They stared for a moment more before Carlson finished the sweep of the room. There was nothing else there.
The light returned to the gong. Seto stepped into the dim beam, examining the disk carefully. There were no inscriptions carved or painted upon it or the wall. The mallet, too, appeared to be ordinary.
He touched one long finger to golden surface and then reached over to take the smooth handle of the mallet. He hefted it; though he knew next to nothing about such things, he could tell that it was expertly made. Craftedfrom an unknown but obviously high quality material, it was evenly balanced, not top-heavy at all, and it seemed natural to bring his arm back in preparation for a swing.
"Seto! What are you doing!" Joan suddenly cried.
"Is there something wrong?" he asked with forced patience, lowering his arm as he turned back to glare at her.
"We have no idea what that will do! It could alert our enemies to our presence, it could trigger a trap, anything could happen!"
"True," he admitted, lowering his arm. "Tell me, do you have a better idea?"
With silence as his only answer, the young businessman nodded, and before either of them could think of an alternative, brought the mallet crashing into the gong.
A resounding, full sound echoed through the small room. Willy let out a yelp as his sensitive ears were stung, and Joan and Carlson quickly covered their ears. Seto was too busy clutching his hand; the mallet had vibrated upon impact, sending a strong, painful shockwave racing through his fingers and up his entire arm, causing him to drop the offending object and hiss in pain.
The pure note the gong had released, which sounded almost like the crystal tone of a finger run along the rim of a wineglass, though its pulsating pitch was much deeper, seemed to hang in the air, not dying as logic wanted it to. Slowly, another sound joined it, a whining, cracking groan that wove in with the tune and created discord.
When the noise finally faded, hands were lowered and eyes were widened in amazement. Where there had been naught but blank wall scarce five minutes before, there now stood a doorway. Leading down into the dull light that shone from within was a stone stairway, stretching into the abyss.
Seto narrowed his eyes at the doorway. Joan glanced at him, wondering if he would gloat at finding the way inside, but he said nothing. He placed his hand on Willy's head, calming the dog, and strode through the door without looking back, his trench coat sweeping behind him.
Joan and Carlson traded a glance and followed after him.
The stairs seemed to continue forever, but eventually they reached the bottom. They found themselves in a dimly lit, damp stone corridor that smelled strongly of mildew. Seto was already stalking down it, the golden retriever pressed close to his side as if prepared to protect him from whatever lay ahead.
Joan and Carlson hurried to catch up to them.
"We should stay together, Seto," Joan chided.
He grunted. "Then keep up."
Carlson chuckled, but said nothing.
It was some time later before they spoke again. Joan, who had been watching their surroundings carefully, spoke quietly. "We've been walking for over a mile now."
Seto ignored her, but Carlson nodded in agreement. "We're not in – under – Domino anymore."
"...The tunnel is sloping up," Seto finally put in. Sure enough, they could detect a gradual upwards trend to the ground beneath their feet. Furthermore, the corridor was noticeably drier, and the air was fresher than it had been at the start.
"Best not to go any further without bein' armed, then," Carlson suggested. He stopped, drawing a pistol from a holster on his belt. Without hesitation, Seto followed his example, revealing a similar firearm tucked inside of his coat. Joan blinked at this. She hadn't known that he carried a weapon, but she supposed it made sense. A businessman of his status was sure to have acquired enemies who weren't above sending someone to attack him. Shrugging it off, she crouched down and pulled a tiny handgun from her boot.
Seto and Carlson stared at her. She stood and raised her eyebrows at them. "What, are you the only ones who are allowed to walk around armed?"
Seto's eyes were narrowed at her. "It's not the kind of thing one expects from a civilian."
"You're point?"
His eyes narrowed further. She wasn't meeting his eyes; she was hiding something. She was hiding too many things. "Just who the hell are you?"
"Your mother," was the calm reply.
"Yes, I got that part. That's not what I meant."
"...We should find Mokuba," she said quietly.
He glared at her for a moment more before giving a curt nod and continuing down the tunnel, his hand gripping his pistol as if it were a lifeline.
They hadn't walked for another ten minutes before the tunnel came to an abrupt end. It opened out into a gigantic cavern. The room's ceiling was too high above their heads to make out. The dim light from their tunnel lit only the first few feet of the grotto; there was no other source of light.
Seto stepped up to the edge of the light, peering into the darkness. Willy was close behind him, his ears pricked forward as if listening to a distant sound.
"Sir?" Carlson inquired. "D'you–"
"Shh," Seto interrupted, his eyes on the dog's reaction. Then, very quietly, "Someone's coming."
Soon, they heard the sound that Willy had already picked up on: footsteps. Slow, deliberate footsteps that were coming in their direction. All three humans raised their weapons. Willy's hackles were up and his lips curled back into a silent snarl, yet no noise came from him, as if he, too, sensed the need for quiet.
A tall figure suddenly loomed out of the gloom. Joan heard Carlson gasp and saw Seto stiffen slightly out of the corner of her eyes. Most of her attention, however, was focused on the man whose facial features could only just be made out. Where had she seen him before...?
Suddenly her eyes widened as a stray memory flicked across her consciousness. An old photograph crumpled into a ball, golden tongues of fire staining its edges black, then consuming it entirely...
But... that couldn't be right...
Yet her fears were confirmed when the man spoke in a calm voice that sent shivers up her spine.
"Hello, Seto. It's been awhile."
And Seto's reply, which somehow seemed to hold anger, hatred, fear, and exhaustion all at once:
"Hello, Gozaburo."
A/N: Yes, my stories Seto is both afraid of the dark (They stole his soul, folks. If you think he could walk away with that and not be scared, think again.) and trained to use a weapon. Explained why in the story.