Disclaimer: Once more following the advice of my very wise friend, I checked in on my ninjas in law school. Dang it! Kazuki Takahashi's recruitment force got to them first. I only have a few left. I think I shall send them to a music school, if only because I've always wanted to get a sing-a-gram from a ninja. Though I'm not sure how that will help me to get the rights to Yu Gi Oh!; right now, it's not looking too good for that.

A/N: Well, merry early-Christmas to you all! Or if you are Jewish, happy belated Hanukah! Of if you celebrate something else, happy that! T'is the season for giving and all that – here's my present to you. Another chapter.

...Well, don't all start clapping at once... Anyway, this is way shorter than I wanted, but it just seemed like such a good place to end. (passes out the cocoa) Enjoy!


Mokuba stopped to observe himself quickly in the mirror, making sure that his appearance was presentable for the upcoming meeting with Sergeant Major Kerrick. Hands and face: washed. Uniform: clean and freshly pressed. Hair: brushed and pulled back into a sloppy ponytail. He winced at that; he usually didn't bother to tie it back, and he still didn't have the hang of tidying it to please his superiors.

There was a knock on the bathroom door behind him, and Seto stepped into the room. "Ready to go?" he asked.

"Almost," the boy muttered. He scowled and pulled the hair tie out. "Can you...?"

"You're never going to get better if I'm always doing it for you," the older boy chided as he took the tie and gathered the messy raven locks into a much neater ponytail.

Mokuba grumbled an incoherent response, then nodded his thanks. "Now I'm ready."

Without another word, the two rebels slipped out of their apartment and made their way to the Domino City Revolution Headquarters.

There were silent as they left the building, silent as they passed through the hidden entrance to the underground, abandoned subway tracks that connected the various branches of the Revolution, silent as they walked down the unused tracks. No words were needed. Each knew what the other was feeling.

Mokuba sensed his brother's tension, something that few would be able to detect. But he had known the other boy for too long; there were few things they could hide from each other. Seto was worried about something, and the younger had no idea what.

Seto, for his part, knew about his brother's confusion, but he said nothing to enlighten the small boy. It was only a feeling, after all. It was probably nothing. There was no need to worry him unnecessarily.

Mokuba bit his lower lip and watched the older boy out of the corner of his eyes, wondering if he should say something. Finally making up his mind, he opened his mouth to speak. "Se–"

He bit off his brother's name upon noticing that the teenager had stopped, one hand resting on a ladder. They had reached the entrance to the Revolution's headquarters. "Big brother," he finished lamely, not daring to speak the agent's name in a place where the walls had ears.

"Yes?" was the deceivingly calm reply.

"...No. It's nothing." The boy hopped off of the deactivated third rail, which he been tightrope walking, and scrambled up the ladder, careful not to step on his brother's hand, which still rested on one rung.

He didn't hear the older boy's quiet murmur has he followed him.

"I hope so."


Mokuba could remember the first time he had walked these halls, back six months before when he had first officially joined the Domino task force. He had been amazed at how high the security was. They had to pass through a checkpoint before reaching their goal; armed guards triple-checked their registration, confiscated their weapons, and escorted them to where they needed to go. This seemed a bit overkill to Mokuba.

He had voiced this opinion to Seto once, shortly after he returned from his first mission. Seto had raised an eyebrow at him.

"You're not paranoid enough, kid," he had been informed. "If anything, we should tighten the security up."

He understood better now, though that didn't stop his annoyance. Ensuring the safety of the Revolution's commanders was top priority – without their leaders they would flounder and die like a chicken without its head.

Still, as their escort led them down a long hallway towards a set of large doors, Mokuba couldn't help but feel a customary twinge of unease. He hated having his defenses removed.

Seto was even less pleased. Though he had been through the process hundreds of times before, he would never get used to being unarmed. The young rebel felt naked and unprotected without the comforting weight of the firearm at his hip. They had even taken the knife strapped to his leg and the small backup hand gun that fit into a holster at his forearm, both of which were hidden from the casual eye.

Mokuba frowned, biting his lip anxiously. Was it just him, or was there even more security here than usual? He glanced at Seto, opening his mouth to ask if the more experienced agent had noticed anything, and snapped it shut just as quickly. They had reached their destination.

This was it: the point of no return. The guards faded away behind them as Mokuba wiped suddenly sweaty hands on his pants, careful not to wrinkle the stiff fabric. He swallowed and looked up at his brother, the rocks that had settled in his stomach turning over as if they were tumbling down a hill. The grim determination on the older agent's face was hardly reassuring. The raven-haired boy swallowed again. He hated meeting with Kerrick.

"Ready?" he asked in a voice that was smaller than he would have liked.

Seto gave him a curt nod. He looked at the chronometer – being early was almost as bad as tardiness – and pressed a button on the wall panel next to the doors.

Somewhere inside, a bell rang. The young agents couldn't hear it sound, but it alerted the room's inhabitants to their presence. The boys could feel the invisible eye of a hidden security camera burning into them as it identified them.

Mokuba focused his attention on the doors, resisting the urge to fidget. They were huge, made of oak instead of steel. They always fascinated the ten-year-old, for he had never seen anything like them; he always took this time to study them.

The grains in the polished wood made strange patterns that danced around the entranceway's sole decoration: a rearing winged horse, the blazon of the Revolution, was carved proudly into the massive doors.

A single eye was set into the mythological creature's head. Mokuba had long since stopped jumping when, with a whirring buzz followed by a mechanical click, the eye sprung to life. A small camera that was the eye's pupil zoomed in on their faces as a sharp voice demanded, "Identify yourselves."

"Special Operations agents S4913 and M7123 reporting for assignment on order of Sergeant Major Kerrick," Seto replied in a crisp, no-nonsense tone of voice.

"Identification cards required," the voice chimed. The two agents swiped their I.D. cards in a slot which had suddenly revealed itself, Mokuba barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his superiors' paranoia.

"Identifications confirmed. Entry granted."

Slowly, the doors creaked open, the emblem engraved upon them splitting in two as they swung outwards. Two uniformed soldiers held them open, saluting the two agents who walked briskly inside.

The doors were closed behind them and the door wardens stood at silent attention as the brothers began to proceed into the dimly-lit command center. Save for the wardens, who were both deaf and mute, that they could be present to guard the officials and not overhear confidential material, the room appeared to be empty.

Suddenly, a voice rang out through the large room, echoing around them. "S4913! How marvelous to see you again!"

Mokuba stopped short that the unfamiliar voice – that wasn't Kerrick. He was astonished to see Seto freeze as well. Judging from how stiff the older boy was standing, Seto recognized whoever it was... and he wasn't pleased.

Footsteps approached them and Mokuba unconsciously drew closer to his brother. A figure stepped out of the gloom, a large smile that did nothing to ease Mokuba's nerves fixed gaily on his face.

"And you must be M7123!" the man continued, as if they were old friends who hadn't seen each other in years. Mokuba half expected the man to add on a "My, you have grown," and come forward to pinch his cheeks like an aunt that he had never had. He pressed even closer to his brother's assertive presence.

"I've been looking forward to speaking with you two," the stranger said, finally stepping into the light. "I do hope you're ready to tackle a new assignment."

Mokuba couldn't help but gape. He had never seen this man in the flesh before, but he'd been showed pictures. The long silver hair that partially covered the left eye... the mechanical inset that had replaced that eye after some freak accident had destroyed it... the red uniform that only the highest of high-ranking officers were allowed to don... There was only one man who could fit that description.

But that doesn't make sense! His mind reeled in confusion. What would General Pegasus be doing in Domino? We're about as far from the capital as you can get!

Unless... A sudden though struck him, a stomach-churning, heart-stopping thought that made his blood run cold.

His worse fears were fulfilled as the silver-haired man continued. "We have a special job for you this time."

This was bad. This was very bad indeed.