OP1: "Raining" by Art Of Dying


Chapter 4: "Ties"


"Okay, but I DID pass the test!"

"Yeah, with a D-minus."

"Oh, gimme a break! That's still a pass!"

"Barely."

Danny rolled his eyes at Marina's latest swipe while the latter looked at him with serious eyes. Much as she relished in digging at his laziness, she just as much wanted to see him achieve some modicum of success. He knew this as well, but it didn't make it any less annoying.

As the two continued their back-and-forth from their seats across the trailer, Mike and Violet sat on their couch in amused silence. Over the hours, Violet had been unable to keep her eyes from darting towards Mike. After his and Danny's duel, she'd found herself convinced that beneath his roughened exterior, Mike really was the same person that she'd fallen for when they were children. She felt ashamed to have ever thought otherwise.

Despite her attempts to keep her glances secretive, Mike had immediately taken notice of them in his periphery. He felt like he understood what was going through her head: she was agonizing over her feelings just as much as he was, and he couldn't blame her. Even so, they both had their own reasons for tucking them away; he just happened to be better at it than she was.

"Y'know, you are just impossible to please," Danny said to Marina. "You know that, right?"

"As if you know anything about pleasing a woman," she retorted.

He cringed. "Okay, low blow."

As Violet stifled a laugh at the turn the conversation had taken, Mike reached into his pocket to check the time on his phone.

"Well, not to cut this delightful talk short," he said, gaining their attention, "but it's five-fifty, guys."

Surprise adorned each of the others' faces as they checked their own devices, and Danny let out a low whistle. "Damn. Good save, Mike," he said as he pocketed his phone again. "Guess we better get going."

He stood from his chair with a quick stretch of his arms before picking up his skateboard and approaching the trailer door. But just as his hand reached the handle, he halted when Marina said, "hey, Danny?"

He turned to face her. "Yeah?"

She hesitated for a moment with a quick look to the floor, before asking, "would you... mind walking me home tonight?"

Danny cocked his head with surprise as Marina said, "it's just, I'd rather not walk home alone at night... what with Damian White on the loose, you know?"

Danny's face lit with realization as his mouth formed an "o." Mike, meanwhile, looked from one to the other before asking, "wait, who's Damian White?"

Danny and Marina turned to him. "Oh yeah, you weren't around for that," said Danny. "Last year this crazy guy started robbing people and places for cash left and right all over the city. Banks, stores, everything in-between. Cops caught him eventually, but they never found his cash. Apparently the dude's a real psycho, so they threw him in Tallgate over in Crest City."

"And now he's broken out," Mike figured, to which the others nodded.

Marina turned back to Danny. "So? Will you please walk home with me?"

Danny looked to her for a moment before huffing. "All right, sure," he said, "but you gotta take back that crack about pleasing women!"

Marina smirked. "I'll think about it."

"Eh, that'll do," he said as he opened the door before bowing an arm in invitation.

Laughing, she passed him before halting in the doorframe to turn back to Mike and Violet. "You two should walk home together too," she said. "Stay safe, okay?"

"Yeah, you too," Violet replied, and she and Danny passed through the door, the latter giving them a two-fingered salute before closing it, leaving the two alone on the couch.

There was an awkward moment of silence before Mike stood to follow suit, saying, "so... guess we ought to get a move on, too."

"Right," Violet said, standing too as her mind raced. This was the first time the two would get to spend time together alone since he'd come back—a perfect opportunity to take a chance and come forward about her affection for him.

But the same thoughts held her back: the chance that he didn't care for her in the same way, and the possibility that he'd met someone else while he was gone. It was times like these when she hated being so fragile, always afraid of being hurt.

"Hey, you coming?"

She snapped out of her thoughts at Mike's voice, looking to see that he was standing at the trailer door.

She composed herself and smiled. "Yeah, sorry... let's go."

Mike kept the door open for her as she stepped out into the construction yard, Mike following behind before coming to a halt at the tingle of a vibration within his duster.

Violet stopped to look at him as he held up a finger, pulling his phone from his pocket. He unlocked his screen to look at the text he had just received:

Dr. Crawford: Sorry to bother you, but can you swing by my office around 8 tonight? It's important.

Mike's eyebrows rose. He hadn't expected to hear back from the man so soon, much less with a tone of urgency. He replied back:

Mike: no problem, ill be there.

He replaced his phone in his pocket as he looked back to Violet, who gave him a curious expression. "Got somewhere to be later," he said.

"At this hour?" she said as they exited through the gate, beginning their walk into the city. "And with a dangerous felon on the loose?"

"Don't worry," Mike replied with a pat at his hip. "If that Damian White character tried anything, I have a gun."

Violet glanced from the holster beneath his duster to Mike. "Wait, that thing is real?"

"And loaded," Mike said, smirking.


The two spent their walk in amiable silence as the last light of the sun faded behind the towering cityscape.

As Violet led their stroll, she found her apprehensions had taken hold of her tongue, no matter how strong the urge to confess her feelings was. But at the same time, she found herself able to enjoy the quiet that came with Mike's company. Just having the chance to be with him alone was enough to keep her smiling, making her realize how long it had been since she'd felt so genuinely happy.

Little did she realize that Mike was processing similar thoughts. He too wished that he could bring his affection for her to the surface, but he kept rounding back to the events of his last two years. He was afraid that if Violet ever saw who—much less what—he'd become during that time, it would push her away. And that was a chance he didn't want to take.

Eventually, their trek came to an end when Violet stopped and turned to Mike. "This is my stop."

Mike's mouth twisted as he turned to look at where they'd wound up: it was a tall apartment complex; one of the worn-brick buildings that had fallen through the cracks of County Dame's housing budget.

He looked back to her. "What happened to your dad's deli?"

Violet fell silent, averting her eyes for a time. When she sensed his stare not letting up, she sighed before looking to the building. "About a year ago, the health inspectors showed up for their usual sweep of the place. Found there was a rodent infestation getting into his stock."

A shock swept through Mike as she continued. "He spent as much as he could on an exterminator, only to find that he couldn't find the nest. Few months later, they shut him down."

Mike could hardly believe it. Bulbous Alyssum didn't seem like the kind of guy who would let his business be overrun by vermin. His shop had carried the honor of being the most popular sandwich shop in the city, and though he was the kindest man there was, he was also the toughest.

"I can't imagine how that must've hit him..." Mike said as he observed the old apartment.

Violet shook her head. "Believe me, you don't wanna know—"

The sound of her cell phone ringing took her by surprise. She pulled it from her pocket to check the caller ID, and her expression soured before shooting Mike an apologetic look. He nodded, and she turned away and answered in a low voice.

"Hey Dad. Listen, I'm—

"... yes, I know it's late, but—

"... Dad, I—!"

Mike tilted his head. He could vaguely hear the other end of Violet's call, and though he couldn't make out his words, it was definitely Bulbous on the other end—with a voice that roared like thunder.

That threw him off. Not once in the sixteen years he'd known the man had Bulbous ever appeared to hold any kind of temper, much less a raging one like he heard now.

"... no, I'm standing right outside! Mike's with me—

"... yeah, because of—"

"... I'm sorry, all right?!"

He felt his heart sink as her tone turned distressed. It was bad enough that Bulbous seemed angrier than before, but now he could distinguish a trait in Bulbous's cadence he hadn't noticed before: slurred speech.

He had a vivid recollection of the fact that Bulbous had loathed alcohol more than any other vice that existed. So to hear him drunkenly screaming at Violet from the other end of a phone was a thought that he could barely begin to fathom.

"... Dad, I'll be inside in a minute—!"

Whatever Bulbous had interrupted her with next left Violet wide-eyed as she froze, petrified and tense. Mike could barely make out what he'd said, but the look on her face told him that he'd heard right.

"Dad," Violet said, choking up, "that's completely unfair...!"

Mike heard Bulbous shout something short before a click sounded from the receiver, and Violet took her phone from her ear. She turned to Mike as tears started to well in her eyes.

Mike shook his head as he approached her, but he barely needed to take a step before she threw herself into his arms and fell apart, bawling into his chest.

He guided her to the steps in front of the apartment so she could sit as she cried into his shoulder. She didn't seem to mind just dropping her school bag beside her, even though her folders spilled out to expose the scribbles of his name written there. But Mike kept his focus on her, holding her close and letting her unload.

A few minutes passed before Violet managed to pull herself together, lifting her head from his shoulder as he pulled from his duster a handkerchief that he handed to her. She took it and wiped away her tears.

"Thank you," was all she could manage to say as she handed back the cloth before scrambling to pick up her folders and her bag, only just realizing that her scribbles had been visible.

"Don't mention it," Mike replied as he returned the handkerchief to his pocket, and Violet stood to face him. He didn't know if it was intentional, but her stormy-gray eyes seemed to hold nothing but pure affection as they stared into his own.

"I should probably head inside," she said, reluctance in her voice.

Mike nodded in agreement. "Yeah... guess I'll see you—"

He was cut off when Violet made a move that took him completely by surprise. She leaned towards his face and kissed him on the cheek before hurrying up the stairs and disappearing into the building.

Mike stood there, paralyzed, as he processed what had happened. The girl he loved—who he was also certain loved him—had just kissed him on the cheek. For the first time ever. He almost couldn't believe it. He raised his hand to the spot he'd felt her lips meet his face, uncertain if it had really happened, but the tingles in his cheek didn't lie.

Unfortunately, he didn't have time to linger on it: a little over an hour had passed, meaning he had just under that to get back to Dexterity High School.

Mike's coat flailed behind him as he spun and started trekking back the other way, not wanting to keep his former therapist waiting.


It was a little past 8 PM when Mike finally arrived at Dexterity High School. He hoped Dr. Crawford would forgive him for his tardiness; the situation with Violet had not been part of his schedule.

He knew that the school's elevator was locked down during the evening, meaning he had to climb three flights of stairs to the top. He found it funny to think that two years beforehand, he would have been out of breath by the time he reached the fourth floor. Now, he didn't even break a sweat.

He made his way down the hallway towards Dr. Crawford's office, where he could see a faint light coming from the door. Just before he knocked, he suddenly heard an unfamiliar voice from inside:

"You know I don't like being kept waiting, Skeldon."

"Yes, I do," came Dr. Crawford's response, his tone tense. "I'm more than sure he's on his way—"

"I don't want excuses," the other voice said. "I took time out of my schedule to be here at your request, don't forget."

"Trust me, he'll be here—"

Mike decided to break up the squabble by knocking, cutting Dr. Crawford off as a steady silence took over.

It only lasted for a moment before it was broken by Dr. Crawford, who cleared his throat before saying, "come in."

Mike entered the office. There was Dr. Crawford, sat behind his desk with fingers intertwined before him. Across from him sat a man in one of the guest chairs that Mike did not recognize, yet who seemed familiar. He had neat brown hair that matched his hazel eyes. His attire was that of a brown sport coat over a black shirt, and dark-tan pants donned his legs. His polished black shoes shone under the fluorescent lights of the office. Mike guessed that he stood around 6'1".

"Ah, Mr. Harper," Dr. Crawford said, breathing a sigh of relief. "I'm glad you could make it—"

"Nearly ten minutes late," the other man interjected, eyeing Mike with annoyance. "Are you not familiar with the expression, 'early is on time', boy?"

Mike stared calmly back into his eyes. Dr. Crawford was on the edge of his seat as he gestured to the other man with his hand. "I assume you haven't met Mr. Copperson before, Mike?"

Mike's eyes widened as he looked from Dr. Crawford to Mr. Copperson as the latter stood, extending an arm to shake his hand. Andrew Copperson had been the Mayor of County Dame since Mike had entered middle school, winning every election cycle due to his exceptional policies with which he ran the city. The fact that Dr. Crawford was able to address him as just "Mister" Copperson likely meant that the two had to be close in some regard, so Mike figured it wise to put his best foot forward.

"You have my apologies," Mike said as he took Mr. Copperson's hand with a firm grip. "Afraid I ran into a complication on my way here that couldn't be avoided."

As their hands parted, Mr. Copperson eyed Mike dubiously as they sat themselves in the guest chairs opposite each other. "You couldn't choose more appropriate attire for a meeting like this?" Mr. Copperson said, as if trying to taunt Mike.

"Well, I've only been back in town for two days," Mike said as he got himself comfortable. "Haven't really gotten a chance to expand my wardrobe beyond this."

He looked down at his black duster, and Mr. Copperson almost looked amused. "Fair enough," he said. "In which case, I'm going to assume from your lack of preparation for this meeting that you don't know why Dr. Crawford called you here tonight."

He shot the principal a steely look, to which he seemed to shrink in his seat as he rested his head on his hands.

Mr. Copperson looked back at Mike. "I understand that you expressed an interest in taking private courses to help expedite your high school education. Quite the ambitious request."

"Just trying to get my life back on track as soon as possible," Mike said.

The Mayor smirked. "How responsible. But you see, a request like that still needs to be agreed upon by the city's board of education, and that's where I come in."

Mike remained silent while Mr. Copperson reached down into a bag leaning against his chair, pulling a pad of paper and a pen from it as he said, "we can't just give anyone such a customized education, especially to a young man who'd disappeared for so long a time he'd been presumed dead. So I just have a few questions to ask you about your activities over that period of time. It's a board member thing, you understand."

Mike's eyes narrowed. "Fine by me," he said. "I have nothing to hide."

"The first question, then," Mr. Copperson began as he crossed his legs. "Where have you been for the last two years?"

There was a moment of intense silence. Dr. Crawford could tell by the look in his old patient's eyes that this was something he would rather not talk about, but was surprised when Mike finally answered:

"Ever heard of a place called Frontier Haven?"

Both Dr. Crawford's and Mr. Copperson's eyes widened at this response. "Frontier Haven..." Mr. Copperson repeated, scoffing. "Yes, I've heard rumors of it. An old western town untouched by the modernities of civilized society, plagued by constant conflict with another old town. Saddlebury, was it?"

"That's the one," Mike said.

It was Mr. Copperson's turn to narrow his eyes. "Where in Frontier Haven did you stay?"

"With a friend," Mike replied.

"What friend?"

"He's since passed on, sir."

Dr. Crawford's face turned grim while Mr. Copperson leaned back in his chair, considering this information as he bore into Mike's eyes. He could normally tell if someone was able to lie and look honest about it, but Mike's eyes held no apparent emotion or truth. Yet at the same time, something convinced him that his words were true. It was as if some kind of trauma had rendered them incapable of telling lies.

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

Mike hesitated as he averted his eyes. Dr. Crawford and Mr. Copperson could immediately tell that this question had touched a nerve. They had underestimated the mark Frontier Haven had left on him.

"Yes."

Dr. Crawford's eyes widened as he turned in alarm to Mr. Copperson, unable to believe what Mike had just admitted. If he knew Mr. Copperson, then he knew that an answer like that would quicker land him a prison sentence than a custom curriculum.

But he was surprised when he heard Mr. Copperson's response escape through his lips: a small chuckle.

"Good answer," he replied with a grin. "That was a trick question to see if you were a liar. If the rumors surrounding those territories bear any truth, I imagine you had to engage in at least some of the battles waged out there."

"Actually, those battles aren't a thing out there anymore," Mike said, causing the Mayor's eyebrows to rise.

"Is that right?" he asked. "And how is it that came to be?"

"I thought I was here to tell you about me, not the goings-on of Frontier Haven," was Mike's reply, to which Mr. Copperson wrinkled his nose. Dr. Crawford couldn't help but dart his eyes anxiously between the two, wondering how his colleague would react.

To his relief, Mr. Copperson merely took a moment to scribble some notes on his padded paper before saying, "right. Well, let me assure you that I have no intention of calling any authorities on you. Those towns are of the few remaining lawless areas left in this country; beyond the jurisdiction of our type of law enforcement. So if you're ever inquired about it, just plead self-defense."

"I appreciate that," said Mike. "Thank you."

Mr. Copperson nodded. "Now, concerning your necessity for a fast-tracked curriculum, I would usually recommend nightly courses for a GED. But first, I want to hear what it is that you'd want to do upon completing these hypothetical classes?"

Mike hesitated, contemplating what he was about to say. It was going to sound absurd to both Dr. Crawford and the Mayor, but in Mike's mind it was something he needed to do.

"Well," he said, "I was actually thinking of trying to enter the Professional Dueling Circuit."

Just as Mike expected, Dr. Crawford and Mr. Copperson let that sink in for a time before the Mayor began laughing, as if he had just heard an 'okay' joke. "The Pro Circuit..." he repeated after catching his breath. "Well, you've set a very high bar for yourself, haven't you?"

"Is it one that's impossible to reach from where I stand?" Mike asked.

He could tell that Mr. Copperson hardly wanted to take the idea seriously by the way he cleared his throat, before saying, "I wouldn't say it's impossible, but it would be difficult for someone of your standing to enter such a prestigious business. You'd have to have received special Duel Monsters training from an accredited school or authority, or just be a member of one of the Dueling Legacy families, like the Cyber Style clan, in order to enter."

Mike narrowed his eyes. "Any reason why you bring up that Legacy in particular?"

Mr. Copperson's eyebrows rose. "As a matter of fact, yes," he replied. "The real heir to the Cyber Style recently joined the ranks of the Pro Circuit from here in County Dame. Joined about a year and a half ago, actually. He's currently touring across the Asian continent."

"I see..." Mike muttered as he processed this.

Mr. Copperson cocked his head questioningly. "What's your interest?"

"Pure curiosity," Mike lied, though something told Mr. Copperson that something bothered him about the Cyber Style heir. Dr. Crawford hoped that Mike's reluctance to elaborate wouldn't reflect badly on Mr. Copperson's decision about his education.

Luckily, it seemed Mr. Copperson didn't care, as he then jotted down a few more notes before saying, "well, I do believe that covers everything I had to ask, so I best be going."

Mr. Copperson rose from his chair as Mike did, picking up the bag at his side and replacing his writing materials within it as he said, "I'll be meeting with the board tomorrow, and I will contact you through Dr. Crawford once we have deliberated."

He held out his hand to Mike, which he took and shook firmly again. "Sounds good to me."

Mr. Copperson withdrew his hand as he looked to Dr. Crawford. "Good night, Skeldon."

"Good night, Andrew," Dr. Crawford returned, and County Dame's Mayor shot one last steely look at Mike before stepping through the office door and disappeared down the hallway.

There was silence for a moment as Mike stood there and Dr. Crawford relaxed in his chair, the tension leaving his body. Mike was the first one to break the silence with a sigh, before saying, "damn... haven't felt that tense since the last time someone tried to kill me."

Dr. Crawford chuckled appreciatively at Mike's attempt at levity, while the latter looked back to the seated principal. "Thank you for calling me here. And sorry about the lateness."

Dr. Crawford shook his head. "Don't worry about it," he assured him. "At any rate, I'd say you stand a decent chance of getting your expedited education, at least."

Mike nodded as his eyes wandered around the room for a moment. "I guess I'll be going too, then," he figured as he began stepping towards the door.

"Just a moment, actually," Dr. Crawford said, bringing Mike to a halt. "There's one thing I wanted to ask you about."

Mike turned to face Dr. Crawford again as he said, "your interest in the heir to the Cyber Style... it wasn't just curiosity, was it?"

Mike broke eye contact with him as he stood there, a haunting expression coming to his face. He couldn't bring himself to say what he knew about the heir to the Cyber Style; if not that it would mean divulging darker truths about the man, but also about himself.

"We've... met."

Though Mike chose his words carefully as he spoke, Dr. Crawford could tell that he had more of a history with this duelist than he let on. But it was also evident that Mike wasn't keen on sharing just what that entailed.

Dr. Crawford nodded. "Very well," he said. "Good night, Mike."

"Good night, sir," Mike returned before stepping into the hallway, leaving Dr. Crawford—and hopefully, the memories that conversation had brought up—behind.


- Two Years Ago -

Mike fell flat on his back in the sand as the shadow of Aeron's ace creature disappeared, letting the setting sunlight hit him as the duel anchor retracted from his arm, his life points dwindling down to 0.

He was panting hard. He had never fought so hard or struggled so much in all his life. He'd always held a reputation at school for his strength and abilities, especially when it came to overtaking Josiah. But Aeron seemed leagues ahead of him, predicting nearly every move Mike played and having more-than-adequate countermeasures in place for each one—a fact that shook him to his core.

He attempted to lift himself up with his elbows, only to be met with Aeron's boot stomping down on his chest, forcing him further into the sand. He felt the wind being knocked from his lungs as his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

"As expected," he heard Aeron's emotionless voice from above him. "You're just another weakling."

Mike could barely muster the strength to lift his head and look up at his opponent. But when he finally managed to, he wished he hadn't: in his right hand was his revolver, aimed straight at his face.

"There's no place here for any more weaklings," Aeron said darkly, his thumb pulling down on the gun's hammer.

Mike's heart beat faster than it ever had before. He whimpered as his body trembled and his brain clouded with panic. His eyes clamped shut, brief snatches of memory flashing wildly across the dark foreground as he waited what felt like a lifetime for the end.

But just as Aeron had begun to squeeze the trigger, Mike heard what sounded like a firm hand landing on the figure above him, and a familiar and commanding voice said, "that's enough, Aeron."

Mike opened his eyes to find that, to his relief, Samael had grabbed Aeron by the arm, turning the man's gaze on his superior.

"There's no need to end this boy's life," Samael said calmly. "Especially after he went to the trouble of answering the Mark's call."

A moment passed before Aeron let out a, "hmph," before removing his foot from Mike's chest, allowing him to gasp and cough as he struggled to refill his lungs.

As Aeron replaced his revolver in its holster, Samael granted Mike a moment to catch his breath before extending a hand to him with a reassuring smile. "Come, stand yourself up."

Finding his strength again, Mike reached up to take Samael's hand, saying, "thank you," as he allowed himself to be pulled back to his feet.

Samael nodded. "I watched the last half of your duel from afar," he said, glancing between Mike and Aeron as he spoke. "And while I was not surprised by the outcome, you displayed a fair degree of skill.

"However, there was something else that intrigued me," he said, causing Mike to raise an eyebrow. "Something about the way you duel that suggests a higher purpose in your dueling."

Confusion tore across Mike's face, while Aeron eyed Samael uncertainly.

"Tell me," Samael said with an inquisitive stare. "Where you come from, is there someone, or something, in particular, that you duel for?"

Mike didn't even need to think. "Well, yeah," he answered, his head hanging with remembrance. "I've always dueled for my friends. Fighting off those jerks at school who're always trying to push us around. They're who always inspired me to fight my hardest, so I could protect them."

"I see," Samael said, nodding as he processed Mike's words. "'Your friends are your power,' then. Such a cliché.

"But..." A small smirk began to spread across his lips. "It might just make you the one I've been waiting for."

Mike's eyebrows rose as the latter looked to Aeron. "You will train the boy over the next two days," he instructed, before turning back to Mike again. "In that time, I want you to figure out a way to harness that determination of yours, and focus it on yourself."

Mike blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You say you fight for your friends," Samael explained, "but out here, everyone has to fight for themselves. For their survival. That is what you need to learn. Even if it means severing the ties you have to your friends."

Bewilderment flashed across Mike's face as he took in Samael's words. "You expect me... to sever the ties I have with my friends?!" he said with disgust. "No, absolutely not! I could never bring myself to do something like—!"

"You're never going to see them again."

Samael's words felt like the bullet that had almost gone through Mike's head as they cut him off, leaving him paralyzed as Samael said, "did you honestly believe that you were going to go home? That you'd just survive for a while out here before finding your way back, no questions asked?"

Mike had lost his voice, rendering him unable to answer. In truth, he hadn't known what he'd been expecting in the long-term. Everything within the last hour had hit him so fast that he hadn't had time to process anything beyond it. But as he considered Samael's words, he realized he was right: there was no way to tell which direction from Frontier Haven was the way back to County Dame.

Whether he liked it or not, he was stuck here.

Taking Mike's silence as him realizing what he'd been trying to convey, Samael continued: "Besides, even if you were to find your way home..."

He held up his left arm as he rolled up his sleeve, revealing his X-shaped scar again. "You still bear this, just like the rest of us. And there's a reason why it's called the Mark of Death. You wouldn't want to bring that back to your friends, would you?"

Mike remained unmoving as the realization tightened its grasp on him. Samael, seeing that his work was done, turned back to Aeron once more. "I don't want to see you trying to kill him again," he said sternly, "do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," Aeron replied.

With one more smirk, Samael began walking back into Frontier Haven. Aeron turned to look at Mike, who was still standing motionless as tears glazed over his eyes. He'd lost sense of the world around him as Samael's words sank into him like daggers: there really wasn't any way for him to get home.

Aeron grunted before pacing over to Mike, planting a firm hand on his shoulder to shake him from his stupor. "Come on, get it together."

Awareness returned to Mike's eyes as he looked up at the crimson-caped stranger, blinking the tears out of his eyes. "When he said that..." he finally managed to speak again. "When he said I was the one he's been waiting for... he thinks I'm capable of killing Keir, doesn't he?"

Aeron remained quiet for a time, his hand falling from Mike's shoulder. "In all likelihood, yes."

Mike felt his gut wrench as Aeron began back to where he'd been standing during their duel, saying, "and like he also said, we've got the next two days to strengthen you up so that you might stand half a chance against Keir."

"But what if I can't do it?" Mike shot back. "I mean, I've never killed anything before in my life! And how am I supposed to get strong enough to face him in two days when I can barely hold my own against you?!"

Aeron turned to face Mike from where he had been standing during their last duel. "Whether you're able to or not, Samael is the kind of man to see what he believes through no matter what. So even if you decide to just sit on your hands for the next two days, he'll still throw you at Keir like a lamb to a wolf."

Mike winced at the thought as Aeron reattached his revolver-disk to his arm. "Way I see it, you have two options," he said. "Either sit around like I said, and die for sure, or come at me again, so you might have a sliver of a chance to survive."

Mike's eyes locked with Aeron's blood-red ones. Everything about this situation was heinous. He wanted no part in any of it. But at this point, he had no doubt that if he didn't at least try to push through this, his friends would never know that he died.

No. There wasn't any choice for him. He would survive. Beyond this, he could find a way back.

He reactivated the revolver-duel disk on his arm, its deck slot automatically shuffling his cards again. "Guess there's no use wasting any time," he said, "so let's go again!"

Aeron cracked the smallest of smiles that Mike had seen on him for the first time, his deck also shuffling before they both drew five cards.

"LET'S DUEL!"


- Present Day -

Mike shot up from his bed with a jolt, his breathing heavy and beads of sweat scattered across his face.

His head swiveled rapidly, eyes wide as he took in the dimly-lit surroundings of the motel room before hanging his head, sighing with relief. He'd almost forgotten when he was again.

He'd awoken the morning before the same way, believing he was still in Samael's cabin in Frontier Haven. His dreams over the last couple of nights—replaying the things he'd gone through in the last two years in his quest to survive—had felt so vivid. So real. The betrayals. The battles. The losses. All of it.

Laying back down, he growled to himself. The whole reason he'd finally chosen to come home was so he could put those horrific memories behind him. So he could try to revert back to the person he'd been before Frontier Haven. Then again, perhaps he'd been riding on unrealistic expectations. He remembered having similarly disturbing dreams after his parents' deaths. What Dr. Crawford had taught him about PTSD, and how its effects took time to recover from. Or, in some cases, how there were some effects people never recovered from.

He moved his head to look at the pillow he'd been resting on. Drenched in sweat. The motel's custodial staff were going to hate that.

He reached over to the night table beside his bed, grabbing his phone from the charger and unlocking it. It was only 5:13 on a Saturday morning. His friends were all likely still asleep. He then noticed a notification from his text inbox, which he opened to find a message from Violet timestamped around midnight:

Violet: im sorry about holding you up. dads grounded me for the week so i cant see you or anyone this weekend or after school for a bit. thank you for staying with me though. :)

A brief smile came to his face as he remembered the kiss she had planted on his cheek, before another thought came to his mind that he hadn't gotten to consider in detail yet: the fact that her father Bulbous appeared to have turned into an abusive alcoholic.

It made sense to him why he wound up like this, after hearing from Violet about his deli's closing. But it was still hard to believe that Bulbous had sunk to such a low point. He was certain that he'd never grounded Violet before either.

Suddenly the room seemed brighter, and he looked to the window. Sunlight was beginning to pour more strongly through the closed blinds. Morning was upon him, despite the fact that he felt drained of energy. Still, odds were he wasn't going to get anymore sleep.

He dressed himself before returning the small envelope with the key to the old man in the motel lobby, and embarked into the city once more. He figured it would be good to reacquaint himself with the cityscape more extensively, and he couldn't think of a better way to do so than an early-morning stroll.

Luckily, he found little to no difficulty navigating the lamplit roads of County Dame. Everything he remembered—the local businesses, retail outlets, fast food joints, public parks—were exactly where he remembered them to be, with the exception of the few that had either relocated or gone under.

As he walked, he found the homesickness that had plagued him in Frontier Haven was finally beginning to lift. Yet adversely, the more he re-familiarized himself with his old home city, the more that word reminded him of what he was still missing: a home.

He'd already gone through three homes in his life, and he was only eighteen. He had watched his first home burn down before his eyes; the second had been the orphanage run by old nuns who hardly cared for the kids they were charged with raising, and the third that was Frontier Haven had put him through the two most traumatizing years of his life. And he definitely couldn't stay in that old motel: the cash he'd dropped for the two nights there had already burned a huge hole in the reserve he'd been given.

As he contemplated this conundrum, he hadn't realized that his aimless wandering had brought him back to the apartment that he had walked Violet to the night before. He was only a few blocks away from the building before he stopped at the sound of its doors opening and closing. And from afar, who he saw exiting the building caused his eyes to go wide:

Out from the apartment walked a round, yet bulky man with unkempt brown hair and a matching beard. His attire was a green polo shirt that was incapable of covering his muffin-top belly, and the seams of his jeans looked like they were clinging together for dear life. He stood at an intimidating height of 6'4".

Despite his altered appearance, there was no doubt in Mike's mind about who it was he was looking at. What he couldn't believe was how badly Bulbous had let himself go; he had always been large and stocky in figure, but nowhere close to this magnitude.

He watched Bulbous walk into the city as he wondered: where would he have to go at 7 AM in the morning?

Mike knew only one way he would get an answer: it was time for a game of 'follow the leader,' and Bulbous would be playing the leader.


Mike made sure to stay a good distance away from Bulbous, so as to seem like he wasn't stalking the man to any of the other early risers walking around, or to attract his attention and make him aware of the fact that he was being followed.

While he trekked after Bulbous, he found himself beginning to remember all of his old shortcuts and the landmarks where he used to hang out. The images of places that had once been etched into his mind were starting to return too.

As for the end result of his chase, he was so stunned by where Bulbous had walked into that he had to stop and stare at it to read the name above the door aloud:

"Park 'n Shop...?" he uttered as Bulbous disappeared behind the supermarket's automatic doors.

It took him a moment, but it quickly made sense: considering Bulbous's large size, he likely preferred going out to feed his indulgences early in the morning so that no one he knew saw him.

Then another thought occurred to Mike, brought about by the sudden rumble of his stomach: he had barely eaten anything in days. He'd been surviving on the rations he'd been given to survive his trip back home, but those were gone now.

His stomach grumbled one more time, and with silent agreement, he stepped into the store.

He immediately gravitated towards the fruit, grabbing a few grapes from the assorted bags to munch on as he picked his pleasures. He settled on a couple of water bottles, a box of crackers, some other fruits, and milk. Not too expensive, and it would at least tide him over for a couple of days.

He was ready to check out before he noticed Bulbous standing in one of the cashier lanes. He decided to hang back in one of the aisles so he could observe the man from afar and get a good look at his basket of goodies.

Predictably, his basket consisted of three six-packs of beer bottles, a two-liter soda bottle, instant-oven burgers, and an assortment of different sweets. Maybe a few years ago Mike would've appreciated having all that junk food to munch on, but as he looked at Bulbous's size now, he only felt sick to his stomach.

It was at that moment that someone else in the background caught his eye: a young man in his mid-twenties had entered the store wearing a dark-green hoodie, jeans, and a duel disk. He looked about the same height as Mike. His entire body was shaking, making the hands that were buried in his jacket seem like they were fidgeting with something.

Mike glued himself to the shelf in the aisle he was in. Every instinctual alarm in his body was going off at the sight of this character. Worse still, he had a bad feeling that he knew who it was.

Before long, the hooded man had walked the wrong way through the same cashier lane Bulbous was in. Then without warning, he grabbed the female cashier in a chokehold from over the counter, while simultaneously pulling a gun out of his pocket with his free hand and aiming it at her head.

"EVERYONE GET ON THE GROUND!" he yelled at the top of his lungs as the sound of his gun cocking echoed through the store.

Without a moment's hesitation, nearly everyone in the store shrieked or shouted as they fell to the ground with their hands on their heads, as though bowing down to an emperor. And much like an emperor, in this situation, he had all the power: he had a hostage at gunpoint. No one would have run the risk of making any sudden movements.

This was why Mike's movements were slow and subtle as he crawled away along his aisle, listening as the shaking gunman used his hostage-taking hand to pull a bag from his back pocket, throwing it on the cashier's counter.

"Fill it up, quickly!" the robber said hurriedly, his breathing fast and ragged.

The cashier, with eyes wide in terror, immediately opened the cash register and started stuffing every last dollar and coin from it into the bag as the armed man shouted to the rest of the store's occupants: "IF I SO MUCH AS SEE ANYBODY MOVE, OR HEAR AN ALARM GO OFF, I'M GONNA DECORATE THIS CONVEYOR BELT WITH THIS WOMAN'S BRAINS!"

Bulbous, who was positioned directly before the gunman in that lane, had sunk to his knees with his hands on his head, but his steely-gray eyes didn't flicker from the crazed criminal before him.

As the register was emptied of its last coin, the robber pointed the gun at Bulbous as his grip around the cashier tightened. "Now you, old coot!" he demanded. "All your money, in the bag, now!"

But Bulbous wasn't having any of it. He slowly stood up as anger took over his face, towering over both the cashier and robber before him.

"Over my dead body," he responded in his gruff voice.

The gunman's trigger finger was starting to twitch. One bad shake, and he would've killed Bulbous where he stood.

"Don't make me, old man!" he persisted as sweat drenched his face. "I mean it, I'll shoot!"

"Not likely."

No one had noticed Mike sneaking around from behind the crook until he said that, before he threw his arm up into the criminal's gun arm. A shot was fired into one of the ceiling lights, dimming the area as more shrieks echoed across the store.

Mike's maneuver managed to make the shaking madman drop his gun and release his grip on the cashier. His attention turned to hauling a fist at Mike, landing a blow into his abdomen that forced him back. This gave the criminal just enough of a window to escape as he grabbed his gun and money bag and made a break for the doors as the alarm began to blare.

Mike managed to stand and regain control of his breathing just in time: he rushed through the door after the man, pulling out what looked like cuffs from one of his duster's pockets as they tore across the parking lot. He aimed and launched one of the cuffs towards the fleeing robber, revealing that a long steel cable connected the two. The one that had been launched managed to lock itself onto the hooded man's duel disk arm, jolting him to a stop as his gun and his bag of cash were launched from his hands, and landing in a lump five feet away.

Mike stopped and stood his ground where he was, determined to not let the deranged criminal go as he desperately tried to unhook the cuff from his arm.

Mike used his free hand to draw his revolver-disk from its holster, arming his left arm with it as he called out to the criminal, "if you want to make it out of this, I'll cut you a deal."

The criminal's eyes locked with Mike's as the latter attached the other cuff to his own duel disk arm. "If you can beat me in a duel," he explained, "you're free to take your bag of dough over there and run."

A crowd had begun to form around the two from people both in the parking lot and inside the store as the hooded man stood there for a moment, considering the offer. The shaking, heavy breathing, and erratic speech had all been clues enough for Mike, but his suspicions were confirmed as he heard the mutterings of the crowd around him:

"That's Damian White!"

"You mean the convict who escaped?!"

"How did he break out of there?!"

"Who's the kid trying to catch him?"

"Isn't he the one who disappeared two years ago...?"

Mike ignored the commentary as he looked to Damian, who glared back at him with a fury not unlike one he'd seen before. Suddenly, his disturbed trembling had ceased, and another kind of madness seemed to have taken him over as he too activated his duel disk.

"All right!" he accepted Mike's challenge. "I doubt you'd be able to defeat me, anyway!"

"Let's find out, then!" Mike shot back as his revolver-disk activated as well.

As long as I keep this guy preoccupied, I can keep him detained and from hurting anyone until the cops arrive.

They both dealt five cards before crying out, "LET'S DUEL!"


ED1: "Behind Blue Eyes" by Limp Bizkit


Author's Notes

Oof, do I love cliffhangers. Well, I mean, sometimes. Some cliffhangers are maddening. Hope you didn't find this one as such.

Obviously, the action returns in the next chapter, along with a fun little dip into another certain character's mind and life. Can you guess which one? I mean, I think I pretty much gave it away by introducing him in this chapter, so...

Anyway, I'll see y'all next time. Remember, our currency on here runs on reviews, follows and faves! And as always, stay awesome everyone.


REMASTERED ON: 9/24/2020