Yu-Gi-Oh! 5Ds

All I Ever Wanted

By Lucky_Ladybug

Notes: The characters are not mine and the story is! This is a semi AU inspired by, of all things, the song The Plagues from The Prince of Egypt and an AMV I made using it. I'm also using the prompt #35 - Sacred from the abandoned 5Ds_100 writing community on Livejournal. It explores a concept of Radley working for the Crimson Dragon to try to free Crash Town from Malcolm. Given the story's inspiration and inevitable themes, I must say that no sacrelige is intended at all; I love God and Jesus and the story of Moses and am working hard to make this story respectful and beautiful. It will get heavily into Judeo-Christian themes, but will also deal a lot with a slow burn friendship. Of course, Radley is a nice guy, the way I always honestly see him. Even though it's technically an AU, especially with the differences in Kalin's backstory, I'm hoping as much as possible to present the majority of the feelings and interaction as possible missing scenes, things that technically could have happened in canon by filling in the blanks. Radley and Kalin especially are still basically the same people they are in any of my more standard verses.

Chapter One

The atmosphere in Radley's Diner that night was boisterous and full of fun. The energetic staff practically danced and spun as they delivered orders to the amused townspeople with all the training and finesse of professional showmen. Their friend and boss watched them in equal amusement from his favorite table, but although his smile was genuine, his eyes were sad. They were finding things to celebrate, yet he was having trouble seeing reasons to do so.

A black-gloved hand reached for the cool bottle in front of him on the table and twisted off the lid with the flourish of someone who had done it countless times before. He slowly poured himself a glass of the light-colored contents and leaned back, staring blankly at the empty seat across from him at the diner's table.

It had been so long . . . so very long since he had shared the table and drinks with his old friend, and with things as they currently were between them, he had very little hope that it would ever be that way again. Even though the restaurant was filled with the laughter and voices of many more of his friends and he was endlessly grateful, it didn't take away the empty spot that the missing friend had filled.

What happened to you, Malcolm? he thought sadly to himself. We had so many dreams once. We were going to work together to make these desert mining towns flourish and blossom like roses. But you changed. You got so greedy, so hungry for power and money, that you didn't care who got hurt on your way to the top. You even hurt your miners, or so they say. And there's nothing I can do to stop you or change your mind.

He slowly drank the whitish liquid, staring out blankly through the window at the desert night. Not only had Malcolm changed, he had tried to convince Radley to plummet with him into the depravity and sin of his current world. Radley had refused, and in disgust and anger Malcolm had begun to wage a war that had culminated in the creation of the nightly dusk duels to win labor for the mine. Whoever lost the duel each night would go to work for the boss of the winning Duelist. Radley was no longer his friend, he insisted, and Radley would regret "provoking" Malcolm into coming up with the twisted arrangement.

Radley had been devastated. He still was, really. Something in Malcolm's life was causing him to take it out on everyone around him, including Radley. Now, after years of fighting the dusk duels, Radley was bitter, cynical, and rich. Oh so rich. And he liked that; he couldn't deny it. But all those years he had been trying to stop Malcolm from taking over and putting the town under his totalitarian rule. By now it seemed completely hopeless. Malcolm was too powerful. Radley could keep pushing back, but things couldn't go on this way forever. Something had to give.

A flash of red startled him and he almost dropped his glass. "What the . . . ?!" He shot to his feet and walked to the doorway. What could only be described as a red dragon was hovering through the sky, very close to the diner. The creature really looked like it was on fire.

Radley stared down at his glass. The diner didn't serve alcohol, but what if some of Malcolm's Crew had got in and spiked the cactus cider as a childish gag? They would do it. Or maybe this was an older bottle starting to ferment. He really didn't think so, but . . .

"Radley Ramon."

He jerked, looking up at the dragon again. "Okay, am I going crazy or did you really just talk to me?" This had to be an elaborate prank. It couldn't be real. Dragons did not talk. They most certainly did not talk to him, of all people.

"I am the Crimson Dragon, a servant of the Most High God. Your services are requested on His behalf."

Radley snorted. "I didn't think I was drunk, but obviously I must be. As if God couldn't do better than me and full-well know it."

"You disparage yourself. Why?"

Radley's lips curled in a dark smirk. "Well, look at me! I'm in every way the stereotypical biker punk that everyone's told to watch out for—the long hair, the leather, the jewelry! I'm holding a drink! I probably corrupt the young, the old, and everyone else! Why would God want me?!"

The dragon was unaffected. "Your drink is harmless, as are you. You've heard, haven't you, that man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart?"

Sobered, Radley looked down. "Yeah. My family never believed that. I wanted to, but they didn't make it easy." He looked up again. "And I know a lot of the prejudice in town is my own fault. I mean, it's not like I try to refute the gossip going around about me. People think what they want to, you know?" He sighed. "But that doesn't mean I like it."

"You have another reason for not trying, don't you?"

". . . Yeah. Nice guys don't win. Malcolm's men are brutal. If I show I'm soft, I won't have a leg to stand on here in town." Radley slowly sipped the cider again. "I hate that too, but that's how it is."

"You have a very bleak outlook." The dragon still spoke evenly, apparently not bothered by Radley's cynicism.

"I am a realist, my friend. That is the reality, even if I try to paint a happier picture for the Bunch."

"You don't want them to subscribe to your reality? Wouldn't it be kinder for them to not be misled by foolish dreams of victory and glory?"

"They've had way too much of reality already," Radley said softly. "I want them to believe in something better. If this town loses hope . . . if they lose hope . . . Malcolm's got it made."

"Then don't you still believe in hope yourself, even if it's only a small part of you that does?"

Radley fell silent. ". . . Let's say . . . I want to believe." He hadn't admitted that aloud in so long. He hadn't even been sure it was still true. But somehow, saying it brought it to life for him again. It was still true.

"God can work with even the smallest desire to believe," the Crimson Dragon told him. "You only have to be willing to let Him."

Radley leaned against the doorframe, tired of the back-and-forth and now out of answers to give. "Okay. So what, exactly, is wanted of me?"

"The same thing you desire, to stop Malcolm's cruelty in this town."

Radley shook his head in disbelief. "God would really take time out to worry about Crash Town all of a sudden? Come on! It's been a mess here for years. No one's really cared about it except me and the Bunch."

"If Malcolm isn't stopped, his cruelty will spread." The dragon was finally starting to sound annoyed now. "The dyne industry is one of the most thriving in this current age. People worldwide will be oppressed if Malcolm gets any more of a foothold than he already has."

At last Radley wavered. Using logic could usually get to him, and this made sense. ". . . Is this really for real?" His voice came out smaller than he'd intended.

"It is. You are the best person to stop Malcolm. God knows this."

"Why?" Radley frowned. "God must also know I've been trying to stop him for years. Nothing I do ever works. I only prolong the inevitable and cause more people to get sent to Malcolm's Hellhole of a mine."

"But you keep trying. And you even still care about Malcolm in spite of everything."

Radley looked away. "Malcolm used to be my friend. I don't think that person even still exists anymore."

"That friendship may still be this town's salvation, or part of it."

"I can't think of any way to even get through to him," Radley said. "I've tried everything." He straightened. "And I'm no plaster saint. God must also know that I like money and power myself."

"But you, at least, haven't fallen into the darkness because of those interests," was the reply.

Radley sighed, wearily. "I guess that does make a difference, huh?" He managed a smile. "Sometimes I wonder if I have anyway, but you're telling me God doesn't think so?"

"God knows your good heart, as I've stated," said the Crimson Dragon.

Radley toasted him with his glass. "Well, far be it from me to argue with the Supreme Creator. You know, He sounds a lot different than what my family claimed He was. More like how the town's last pastor thought He was." He swirled the liquid around in the glass like one would swirl wine and slowly took a sip. "I wanted to believe that."

"Your family has very little understanding of what God is like."

"Ironic, since they thought they knew it all." Radley laughed but soon sobered. "Okay, so, what does God want me to do, exactly?"

"Tell Malcolm that if he doesn't cooperate and release the prisoners in the mine, he will trigger a catastrophe similar to the Plagues of Egypt on the town."

The color drained from Radley's face. "What?! But those plagues were horrible! I love this town; I don't want to see it suffer like that!"

"It wouldn't be exactly the same, and it would only affect Malcolm and his Crew. But if he would cooperate, it wouldn't have to be done at all."

"He will just think I'm loco, I can promise you that," Radley said.

"Then take someone with you who can prove you're still in your right mind."

"Oh sure. Well, unless you're volunteering, I don't know any supernatural beings who can make it thunder on a clear day or turn a wooden staff into a live snake." Sarcasm dripped from Radley's voice. He was less and less happy about this and more and more certain he was just going out of his mind. This sort of thing didn't happen! He was surely the last person God would ever want to have as a loyal servant. And he did not want to make this kind of commitment. The very thought of such catastrophes falling upon his town horrified and frightened him, to say nothing of being the one to help bring it about.

"When you find the right person, you will know it," the Crimson Dragon told him. In the twinkling of an eye, the beast was gone, leaving a very stunned Radley alone with his thoughts.

The first thing he did was to look down at the glass in his hand. "Am I sure this didn't ferment?" he muttered.

xxxx

Several days and several dusk duel defeats later, Radley still didn't have any better idea what to do in his miserable situation. He sat at his usual table, pouring another glass of cactus cider as he stared off into the distance. His latest Duelist had screamed and fallen to his knees in defeat before being lassoed and pulled into the coffin for the ride to the mountain. Malcolm had been triumphant and gleeful, but Radley had been sickened. If it was really true about the torture . . . !

He could still hardly believe it. It made no sense from a business standpoint as well as a moral one. Apparently Malcolm thought he could get more dyne faster by beating and whipping and shocking his workers to keep going until they collapsed or died, if the rumors were true. He hadn't been like that years ago. What could have changed him? Radley still didn't understand. He couldn't think of any defining moment when Malcolm had switched.

It had been a multitude of small things gradually snowballing into a big thing, he supposed. When Radley played back some of their conversations in his mind, he found quite a few occasions where Malcolm had said strange things that showed he didn't care about or respect anyone he considered beneath himself. Radley had thought those things strange at the time but had considered them jokes in poor taste. Now it seemed they hadn't been. Radley apparently hadn't known Malcolm for who he truly was at all.

Although . . . why, then, had the Crimson Dragon suggested their friendship might help save the town?

Was he really sure any of that had happened? It still felt so completely unreal. Impossible, even. If God wanted to choose someone to further His plans, why would He choose a cynical biker punk who played at being worldly to try to keep himself from being hurt? It just didn't make sense.

"Radley?"

He started and looked up. Billy was standing there, watching him in concern.

"You've been really down the last few days," Billy said. "You're still trying to be happy for us, but we can all tell you're upset."

Radley sighed, heavily. He really wanted to talk, and Billy noticing his sadness was the final key needed to unlock the gate. Still, he wasn't ready to reveal his strange experience.

". . . What do you think about God, Billy?" he finally asked.

Billy started. "Huh?!" That was not what he had expected.

"I mean, do you think He could still call helpers today, if He felt like it?" Radley mused.

Billy slowly sat down across from him. "I . . . guess so," he said. "I don't know why He couldn't. I mean, people are still in trouble today like they were thousands of years ago, right?"

"Yeah." Radley leaned back with his cactus cider. "So, who do you think He'd call?"

". . . I don't know." Billy shrugged. "The guys in the Bible were usually pretty unlikely heroes, weren't they? I mean, they usually weren't scholars or rich people. Well, Moses was rich when he lived in Egypt, but then he had to give it all up. . . . And before that, Joseph wasn't so rich, but he ended up so powerful in Egypt that only the Pharaoh was above him."

"That's the original Cinderella story there," Virgil grunted from the background.

Radley nodded thoughtfully. "Interesting points. What about us? Do you think He could call any of us?"

Billy blinked. ". . . Yeah, if He wanted," he said. "But would we have anything He wanted? Well, you probably would, but the rest of us . . . I don't know."

Radley sat up straight, intrigued. "Yeah? What do you guys think I'd have to offer? I mean, it's not like I'm even religious."

"That's because of your family, though, isn't it?" Billy said. "They made you feel like God would reject you just like they did."

Radley looked away. "That's true."

"You'd have so much to offer!" Billy went on. "Your business sense, your strategic mind . . ."

"Your kindness and thoughtfulness!" Scotch exclaimed as he popped up.

"And you could use your money for good," Virgil said. "You already try to put most of it into improving the town . . . even though Malcolm is still trying to squeeze it bone-dry."

"Hmm." Radley took another sip of cider. "Do you think God wants to see Crash Town free of Malcolm?"

"Well, I sure don't think He'd want to see Malcolm take it over," Billy snorted.

"He probably doesn't like seeing any of the horrible things us humans do, though," Radley said. "Would this mess in Crash Town bother Him enough that He'd actively try to do something about it?"

"Maybe," Billy said with a shrug.

"Especially if it was going to affect other people too," Scotch said.

"What's with the theology lesson anyway?" Virgil grunted.

Radley opened his mouth, then closed it again. The Crimson Dragon hadn't said he couldn't tell his friends about this, and of course he would have to if something like the Plagues started up, but how in the world was he even going to get in to something like this? Any way he tried to think how to phrase it, telling them that a servant of God wanted to recruit him to help out in this mess sounded so arrogant.

". . . I was just thinking," he said instead. "This war's been going on so long and there's never any end to it. It'd be nice if we had some Help, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah," Billy said. "It really would."

"Fat chance of that happening," Virgil snorted.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Radley mused.

Before he could elaborate (if he was going to), the door opened and a tall, serious man swept in, his long black trenchcoat brushing against the backs of the chairs as he moved between two tables. His blue hair hung in his eyes and down his back, swishing when he walked. He looked as though he had seen Hell and returned to tell about it.

Radley couldn't help but stare. "Kalin Kessler?"

Billy jerked and looked to him. "The leader of the Enforcers?!"

All of the Enforcers were legends in Crash Town. Even though Kalin had fallen into darkness later on and had exiled himself ever since, seeing him was still exciting for these residents. And for Radley, who knew of Kalin's skills as a Duelist, this seemed made to order. Heaven-sent, in fact.

He got up from the table. "I think we may just have an answer to our prayers," he said.

Hearing that comment, Kalin turned and looked at Radley with dead golden eyes. "Who have you been praying to?" he grunted with heavy sarcasm.

"Kalin, Kalin!" Radley draped an arm around Kalin's shoulders. "You came here because of the war in town, right? You wanna hire out as a Duelist?"

Kalin tensed at the physical contact, but didn't pull away. "Yes."

"So tell us," Radley said. "Why me and not Malcolm?"

"I'm investigating both of you," Kalin said. "People in town say you're the nice ones."

"Yeah! And we could really use your help!" Scotch exclaimed. "Malcolm's got too many powerful Duelists as it is! We need one too!"

Radley chuckled. "Scotch is pretty much right," he said. "We're always hoping a skilled Duelist will come along again. We haven't had one in a long time."

"And when they lose, they go into Malcolm's part of the mine?" Kalin asked, still in that dead tone of voice.

Radley sighed sadly. "Yes."

"They're always saying he tortures his miners!" Scotch said. "Radley would never do that!"

Kalin gave a nod, looking satisfied. "Then I'm in the right place." He took out his deck. "I want to duel for you."

"Sure," Radley smiled. "Of course, I'll have to test your skills first. . . . But in your case, it's really just a formality. You're still a legend around here, Kalin."

"I shouldn't be," Kalin retorted. "I let myself become consumed by jealousy and greed. You know the story, don't you? Or do they glorify me here with rainbows and fireworks that I don't deserve?"

"I don't know the story!" Scotch said.

Radley quirked an eyebrow. "Most people come here to get away from something. Pretty much all we know is that the Enforcers beat every Duel Gang in the Satellite, but then you wanted more. The team split, and you tried taking on the corrupt Sector Security all on your own. If you wanna tell your story, Kalin, you're welcome to it. But don't feel like you have to satisfy our curiosities."

Kalin's expression never changed as he spoke. "The others were chosen to be Signers and I wasn't. I felt betrayed, especially when one by one they all left. Jack and Crow said I wasn't chosen because I was letting myself become just like the Duel Gangs we'd stopped. Yusei stayed for a while, but then he too left. My jealousy and rage only grew. Yes, I tried taking on Sector Security. Then I mistakenly believed Yusei betrayed me to them. I was dragged off to the Facility screaming vengeance against him. When the darkness called, I gave in to it and was reborn as a Dark Signer, bent on having my revenge by spilling Yusei's blood and sacrificing the Satellite we had all worked so hard to protect."

Scotch stared at him. "But . . . you're not a Dark Signer now, are you?"

"No," Kalin said. "I'm seeking penance for my sins. That's why I'm here. Now, if you still want me to duel for you, I will."

Radley was frowning, contemplating the problem. After all that Kalin had done, would the Crimson Dragon accept him as Radley's help? Would he be believable as such? Radley definitely did still want him. And maybe . . . maybe if God really was in the business of bringing back lost sheep, He would be pleased for Kalin to help.

"Whatever you did has nothing to do with your skills as a Duelist, unless you're so shellshocked from it that your abilities have gone down," Radley said at last. "Let's have our duel and then I'll make my decision."

Kalin nodded. "Alright."

Clint had once carved a dueling field directly into one of the back tables. Radley had not been pleased at the time, to say the least. But he had found a way to make use of it, and he conducted all of his initiation duels from that table now. He led Kalin there and sat down, taking out his own deck. Kalin sat on the other side. They passed their decks to each other and shuffled.

"So tell me, Kalin," Radley said. "What do you think of the set-up here in town? Do you think Malcolm should be overthrown?"

Kalin shrugged. "If he's become like Satellite's Duel Gangs. But if you're trying to do that, you'll have to be careful you don't instead end up acting just like him once you have the power."

"Radley never would!" Scotch cried with indignation.

"I know all that," Radley said calmly. "Do you think God would want Malcolm overthrown?"

Kalin grunted. "I'm not going to speak for God."

"It's just a philosophical, theological question," Radley said. He passed Kalin's deck back to him and received his own.

"God might want both of you overthrown," Kalin said. "You're supposedly the 'nice ones,' but you're all part of the problem too, aren't you?" He drew his first hand.

"If it wasn't for Radley, Malcolm would have taken over years ago and made this place a lot worse than it is," Billy snapped.

"You judgmental jerk!" Virgil added with a growl.

Radley held up a hand. "He doesn't know us. It's a legitimate question." He looked back to Kalin. "Yes, we could be seen as part of the problem. To some people, we are. But we are sincere about wanting this town free, just like the Enforcers wanted for the Satellite. Some judgmental people probably saw you guys as part of the problem too, didn't they?"

"They were right," Kalin said.

"Nah. As I see it, they were only right when you tipped off the deep end. But things didn't have to go that way. They won't here." Radley looked firmly into Kalin's dead eyes.

At last there was a spark of life. "Prove it to me."

"Help us beat Malcolm and you've got a deal," Radley said.

The duel commenced, and Radley saw to his delight that Kalin's skills had not diminished. Radley's Crystal Beast deck was powerful, but so was Kalin's handless combo strategy. In the end, Kalin got the edge and won the game.

Radley leaned back and grinned. "Kalin, you've really got something here! I have never seen anybody play so dangerously and come out on top."

Virgil didn't look so impressed. "A strategy like that could fall apart at any time. Do we really want to trust everything to him?!"

"Right now, he's our best chance," Radley insisted. "We'd be fools not to give him a whirl. If he's not the one, we'll just be right where we were before he walked in. But . . . if he's this town's salvation . . . we'll finally get control of the mine and force Malcolm to stop whatever torture he's doing in there." He held out his hand. "Welcome to the family, Kalin!"

Kalin didn't take his hand. Instead he started gathering up his cards. "Just tell me when you want me."

Radley dropped his hand with a sigh. "Tomorrow at sunset," he said. "We ride in fron the North. Do you have your own wheels?"

"Not anymore," Kalin said.

"Then we'll fix you up with a Harley," Radley said. "I always have a couple extra in the back."

Kalin gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. "I'll be here shortly before sunset." And with that he was gone.

Virgil was still scowling. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Radley?"

Radley finally sighed too. He was put-off by Kalin's rudeness, yet at the same time, he had certainly dealt with that from some of the Bunch upon first meeting them. He could surely break through, just as he had with them. And anyway, even if Kalin was rude, it was his dueling skills that were important, right?

"I hope it is," he said as he got to his feet.

And I hope a certain red dragon will approve too, he silently added as he headed for the doors himself.

"Are you going after him?" Billy asked. "We don't even know where he's staying!"

"I'm just going to step outside for a few minutes," Radley said. If he saw Kalin, great. But what he really wanted was a consultation with God's servant. That could go good or bad.

He really hoped the Crimson Dragon didn't hold a grudge against former Dark Signers.