Finally, a Trebuchet update! This one's pretty long because I want to finish it in the next chapter (probably inevitably, that won't be happening). Why must my brain forget anything and everything I write with every hiatus? How annoying.

Anyway...

This pretty much took me forever to write. I started working on it immediately after I wrote Chapter 10, but of course I haven't been on here in a few weeks... so this entire chapter probably sounds strangled due to the nature of both the author and the time frame in which it was written. But it's about time something else happened. Right?

Chapter 11

2:47 PM, Thursday, January 6th, 2005

San Francisco, California, USA

Seto Kaiba sat, almost as if he were a hunk of granite, in a cheap rolling desk chair in one of the more cramped of the Berkeley dorms. His eyes were fixed on the smudged tile, exchanging wordless conversation with his brother, who was laying on the top bunk, back to him. He sighed every other minute or so, as if going over mentally what he could possibly say.

Kaiba hadn't really known to make of that letter, once he had had his rational brain back in lieu of the panicked one. Mokuba had desperately tried to explain to him that the letter was merely meant as a rough draft for what he wanted to tell him; so far, that little explanation Mokuba had 'meant' hadn't come. He hoped he would tell him before his flight in three hours.

Mokuba rolled over, black hair no longer flowing over his shoulders after he had cut it above shoulder length – one of the freedoms he had once he had no longer been under his brother's strict eye. His mouth suggested pouting, but the glittering eyes belonged to a Kaiba, and thus the pouting effect was removed completely.

"Seto."

Kaiba didn't give him the honor of glancing up, feeling more like a disappointed parent than a sibling willing to hear him out. Nevertheless, he grunted to signal he had heard.

"I… I meant what I said in that letter. But… you read it, and I thought it … it was too harsh. That's why I didn't send that one."

Kaiba grunted again, wondering why he was here, and not getting work done over in Tokyo where he supposedly belonged. Why he was here, suffering all this pain.

"…But I have to tell you, Seto. I like being here. I like California, I like my classes, I like my friends… I like being alone, Seto. I'm an adult. And… I love you, bro, but…"

Kaiba swallowed hard, understanding Mokuba's point. It was difficult, yes, but he made himself clear. He didn't need Kaiba anymore. It was over. Maybe it had been over and he had been too possessive to want to realize it.

"So I should go," Kaiba said curtly, not daring to face his little brother, the one person for whom he had ever lived, the only person that mattered, the one person that understood him and not his frightening persona – but the only one that still had the chutzpah to turn him away.

"No!" Mokuba spat, sitting up on the bed and balling his fists. "That's not what I mean! Please, bro, listen to me. You did everything for me… and thank you… I can't repay you. But I have to move on! I'm no longer that preteen running around Battle City!"

Kaiba recoiled at the reference to his own tournament, and continued obstinately to deny the deeper voice that was pleading with him, only hearing the younger, slightly nasally tone he was used to.

"I can't. You're everything," Kaiba managed. "And… that seizure… do you know why that happened?"

"You're overworked," Mokuba stated simply, a hint of venom snaking into his tone. "It got to you at the wrong time- "

"No!" Kaiba roared, standing suddenly and shoving the chair aside, causing it to tip over and fall with a crash. "It was your fault! I wanted to see you! I love you too much and I can't lose you anymore! You're the only thing I have!"

Seto was breathing heavily, eyes unwavering, as if he was rebuking himself slightly for the outburst. Mokuba gaped at him, a mix of fright and incredulity. He sat up, almost a smile on his face, eyes brightened with both thanks and anger. The room rang with the reverberations of the impact of the chair and the floor.

"Don't tell me KaibaCorp isn't important to you!"

"I did it for-"

"I know you did!" Mokuba cut in, voice having lowered dangerously. "But please, think for you. I can take care of myself!"

"Is that why a thug with a huge-ass shotgun blew down your door the other day?" Kaiba shrieked, beside himself. "You can't protect yourself! You need me, just like I need you!"

Mokuba went silent, unable to respond to Seto's deranged logic. It was no use; his brother was apparently now physically incapable of detaching himself from him – his brother would always worry about him. It was abnormal – parents, if that's what his brother was to him, were usually glad to see their children grown, ready to leave the nest finally. But Seto… Seto wanted to call Mokuba a chick even though he had already spread his wings and begun his first dive into the real world. It was infuriating… and Mokuba knew, however annoying it might come across as, that he couldn't blame him. He just couldn't.

There was an awkward silence where the remains of their quarrel continued to bounce around the thin walls and the other people in the hall had stopped whatever they were doing, anxious about all the fighting. Kaiba didn't drink – it wasn't worth it – but damn if he didn't have moments that he thought he really should. His throat was dry from the outbursts, anyway.

The awkwardness passed, and the two glanced away from the other, returning them back to their previous situation of controlled silence. They stayed this way, both fuming, for some time, until there was a light knock on the door.

"No," Mokuba shot at the wood, not turning.

The door opened anyway, and Kaiba's top non-secretarial assistant, Roland, appeared. He appeared to have moved in with his shoulder, as in each hand he held a Starbucks coffee.

"Um… anyone?" he asked. He was unaware of the goings-on, apparently.

Mokuba looked at him slowly, then descended the bunk and took one from Roland's hands, gasping when he accidentally touched the part without the protective cardboard 'handle'.

"Watch for the- "

"I know, Roland," Mokuba hissed at him.

A few seconds passed. Roland then turned to Kaiba, who didn't seem to have moved. "Sir?"

"No thanks," Kaiba growled.

"It's good. They have a good cafeteria here," Roland explained calmly, not batting an eyelash to his boss' tone. "It's not your style, but you really look like you could use one."

Kaiba reached for the cup and took it as Mokuba had – on the hot part – but did not flinch nor look up. Sometimes, it was better just to acquiesce to your secret vices.

Who knows? Maybe he might actually like the brown stuff, even though he hadn't had it in years for a very good reason. One sniff, and he remembered the rush of energy it gave him; one sip, and, barring the scalded tongue, he was very pleased he had decided to cave in just this once.

Mokuba was another matter.

"Our flight is soon, Mr. Kaiba. Goodbye, Mokuba," Roland said, all business-smiles. Sincere ones, unlike that French bitch that was always in his life. Maybe even like Mokuba, now that he was forced to admit something along those lines.

Maybe coffee was a good habit to take up again, he admitted inwardly as he stretched to leave the room.

~ X X X ~

3:10 PM, Friday, March 11, 2005

Tokyo, Japan

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why are you doing this?

Her fingers ignored her thoughts which hounded her for something logical behind all of this. Truth be told, she couldn't break a promise to anyone. Usually that meant herself, and Pegasus hadn't even been a friend. Just a business partner. A wacko one. Problem? She was doing this anyway.

The mouse clicked once, twice, repeatedly. She glared vacantly at the screen, a maze of maps and graphs and those annoying ads they pay to have infiltrate the sidebars. An internal battle kept on distracting her from she was actually doing in the real world. Smart idea or not, it was happening, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. Not even herself.

The last one. The last share.

Click.

It was hers. It was done.

Noelle Hermand sat back then, exhaling a large puff of air and sitting back in her chair as she reveled in the fact of what she had just accomplished. The consequences would be enormous. The repercussions. The come-back-to-bite-yous. Call them what you wish. It was probably the most immature, rash thing she had ever attempted, and on the basis of some crank call, no less.

There was no more Industrial Illusions.

Her company – well, the company she worked for – now owned Industrial Illusions. The entire Duel Monsters card game stock. The single toil of one man who hadn't been able to say no to any of his hair-brained caprices to keep hold of his power. A bit like that one guy… what was his name? He was dead now. Oh, yes.

Gozaburo Kaiba.

Kaiba – the living one - would be thrilled when he heard the news of what she had just accomplished, if one could call simple button-pressing anything worth commending, but she hadn't done it for him. The reasoning was some crackpot subset of honor or purity or some other value like that that was supposed to be important to her – a staunch Catholic, after all. But now, her human self seemed to be lost in some twisted battle of morals and religion didn't have the least bit to do with it. Right now, anyway.

Was what she just did moral? Sure, it was legal; no law stopped the economic principle of competition. The question instead became one of 'could she live with herself now?' Hell, how could she have even lived for the past nigh on thirty years? By hope and luck and hard work. For all intents and purposes, for whatever record was watching, she had bought Industrial Illusions for the greater good. Pegasus had told her to do so; Kaiba would be ecstatic; her peers would shower her with praises on her strategic insights; everyone would be happy.

Maybe.

She hadn't heard anything from Pegasus since that eerie phone call. Possibly that really hadn't been him talking. Oh, it was his voice, surely, but the strain in his voice made her think of some kind of over-the-top kidnapping scheme. Was Pegasus okay? Maybe he hadn't really wanted to say what he told her; he had been forced to by some thugs with piloting skills.

Or maybe Pegasus was the evil mastermind, and her innocent attempt to obey his command would wreak havoc on any number of people.

Maybe buying IIC was not what she should have done.

Maybe she had done wrong. Again.

Her fingers played like writing earthworms with the lowest part of her hair, darkened to chocolate where the window-light did not pour in from behind, and it was there that she came to a final, very real, conclusion. Stunning in clarity, really.

Of course she had been right. She was asking herself the wrong question for the past fifteen minutes. It wasn't about Pegasus at all, was it?

No, it was about her. She was having a breakdown.

With that resolved, there was one thing she could do. If she couldn't stop herself now, who knows how far this could possibly go.

First, she forced herself to admit that she hated her job. Being forced to work behind other company's backs, just to expand funds and influence like a balloon that wouldn't pop, at first was okay to her. Now that everything had happened, though, she saw through herself, to the blackness that must have been driving her before she had realized that one simple little fact that changed the way she looked at positively everything nowadays.

How much was thirty days? She counted, not bothering to use a calendar. Thirty days was around three weeks; eleven and twenty-one make… ha, what do you know. Poisson d'avril.

He might not even take her seriously, then.

Claw-like, her pale hand reached out for her office phone, and she lifted it to her ear, like she always had.

"I'm resigning my post," Noelle said, calmly, not bothering to let her secretary speak once she registered that the other line had clicked on. "Effective in thirty days. I'm… I'm sick of this." She hung up softly then, as if she weren't strained in the slightest.

Now she was free, essentially, give or take a month, to do one thing she had been hoping to do since that Christmas. That other job, that she should have done a long time ago, but that fate hadn't let her do.

With luck, until now. The call that morning helped.

The door to her dark little chamber opened, and for one of the last times, she was summoned out to take in a news report that one of her faithful desk-bound cronies had pulled up a file on. This one was recent, and it confirmed her fears.

5 o'clock.

Pegasus.

~ X X X ~

10:48 PM

Late at night, a charcoal-black Toyota Century was working its way homeward to the Kaiba mansion, en route from the airport.

The television installed into the back of the front seat was turned on and tuned to one the numerous news stations, but Kaiba, sitting in a position where he could watch it, was truthfully paying it little mind, as he was still somewhat focused on his work. He half-listened so he could pick up on things, but there were emails to be completed via his phone, and because lackeys were lackeys, they could be trusted to perpetually give him something to do at the most inopportune or unwelcome of times. So the TV kept on blaring.

About halfway through the list, a news snippet nagged at his attention, but all that really registered was that it would be broadcast at eleven, and was a re-broadcast of something that had been shown earlier that day.

Earlier that day… it seemed like just that distance since Kaiba had finally relented to 'release' Mokuba, as it were, to let him live. He hated to admit it but Mokuba was just as legal as he was now, and he was taking care of him when he was Mokuba's age, so technically, and thus logically, Mokuba could take care of himself. It was a decision best made without any sort of emotion involved, although Kaiba still felt a nagging pain, as he did now, whenever he thought of it.

"Now for our live coverage," began the TV suddenly. Kaiba looked up from his email, feeling the pain in his upper back and neck from being hunched over for too long, but recognizing what seemed to be a courtroom for someone or something. Whatever channel this was thought this trial was important. Probably nobody. But then the next words came.

"And here is the accused, Maximilian Pegasus, entering the room now…"

Kaiba breathed in sharply as a shell of a man, handcuffed, white hair turned gray, entered the room. It fell practically to his back now, and he even sported a moustache. One of his arms was in a sling for some reason, as well. Pegasus' eyes never met the camera as he took his seat on his side of the room. Swiftly following, the trial began.

Custody had apparently not been kind to his old business partner.

Kaiba thought more about repercussions of the events that had recently played out, rather than listen to the charges, though there were many – most American laws he might have known at some point under Gozaburodon'tthinkaboutthatin his childhood but now he was only familiar with Japanese law. So tax evasion and bribery and misdemeanor floated around the backseat, but nothing really stuck.

Pegasus was gone, and Industrial Illusions was on its own.

He began listening attentively once Pegasus actually began to present his case. His voice was low and gravely, as if he had been smoking. He explained how he wouldn't deny the charges – they were all true. He had manipulated the money supply of the company for years, and in trying to evade taxes – most specifically, the Sarbanes-Oxley act – by escaping to burdenless Bermuda, he had been caught red-handed. Pegasus also agreed that his arm was in a sling because the Bermudan police had burst down the door, Pegasus had dropped his gun, and it had gone off as it fell, shooting him in the arm.

Kaiba's face was contorted; but what it had become was uncertain. He always would have called Pegasus a dirty, rotten snake, ruthless to the bottom of his rotten core, but it was different now that it was official, and the consequences were being doled out in turn. It almost made him reminisce. Before he could further, though, his damn cell phone rang.

Of. Course.

"What," Kaiba said in his customary tone as he moved to silence the screen.

"Good evening," said a motherly voice dripping with insincerity he knew all too well. "I trust you're in Japan now?"

"Hermand, how did you know I even left?"

"You usually answer your phone."

"That's not quite true."

She sighed on the other end of the line, and apparently quite close to the receiver as the line bristled with rough static. Almost… defeated.

"I have something to tell you. I trust you haven't heard yet."

"What now?"

"It has to do with Pegasus. He- "

"I just got briefed on that," Kaiba cut her off curtly, and rubbed one of his eyes. He definitely had to sleep tonight; things were too far over the edge.

"You don't understand," Hermand pressed, sounding equally exhausted now that she tried to assert herself more formally. "I was going to tell you how that affects our business relationship, with him out of the picture."

"Hm?"

"I remember the first time we met you were concerned about any business plans that could harm KaibaCorp that we had made. I'm calling to tell you about them."

Kaiba suddenly sat up straight, intrigued and highly suspicious. Why the hell would anyone freely admit to something like this? Sure, Pegasus wasn't around, but his company still was, right?

Right?

"We were indeed agreeing on considering a joint venture against KaibaCorp. We've known each other for a long time, see… and now with these actions that he has done I've been informed… well… Industrial Illusions is no longer your problem. You're free to become the new creator of Duel Monsters, Mr. Kaiba."

"What do you mean? Isn't it still around?"

"No, Kaiba," she said, in a tone that seemed strangely cold yet warm against his ear. "I bought his company today. I am, in essence, offering you parts of his old company."

The phone shrank away from Kaiba, and his mouth was hanging open just a little bit. His thumb put her on speaker.

What the …?

"You… mean to tell me…"

"Your reaction seems quite a bit more grave than when Ziegfried notified you that we bought them out," Hermand said crispily, her voice now filling the backseat of the limousine. "I know it's late, but we need to arrange a meeting to finalize all of this. I am also supposed to let you know it will be our last; afterwards, I am resigning from my post."

Kaiba was slapped in the face at this point. He couldn't stop rubbing his eyes. Luckily, he wasn't the one driving, but… this was like a dream come true at the perfectly wrong time.

"…I see," Kaiba eventually managed.

"Well, you seem exhausted, Mr. Kaiba. Good night."

"Wait! I have a few questions for you."

The other line was silent for a few moments; then, there was a sigh, as if the woman was readying herself to speak more to the paparazzi than a business partner.

"First of all, how do you really know I left the country? Second of all, how do you ever know that Ziegfried von Schroeder ever wrote to me with anything concerning you?"

"I have my sources, Mr. Kaiba," she said in her honey-tinted work voice, as usual not giving out any sort of usable response. "They might be closer than you think."

I totally don't need this right now.

"See you soon," came the voice in the phone, and then there was a deadpan monotone signaling the end of the call.

For the first time in a long while, Kaiba found his throat feeling as if it were coated with tar, and the cabin reeking of cigar smoke like it had when it had shuttled his adoptive father around. There was definitely something wrong with this picture…

~ X X X ~

9:06 AM that day

Tokyo, Japan

Noelle walked in to her office, shivering a tad from the cold, and closed the door irresolutely behind her. There was a nasty task ahead that day, and her lips were clamped shut from a mixture of the frost and the anticipation. She had barely taken two steps when the phone rang.

"If it's important, they'll call back," she muttered to herself in French.

Only two minutes later, the phone rang again. This time Noelle answered it.

"Mrs. Hermand?"

She didn't recognize the voice on the other side of the line. It was nearly adult, but there was a slightly juvenile nasal twang to it.

"Yes, may I ask who is speaking?"

"Oh, I'm Mokuba Kaiba. Seto's younger brother."

Noelle's eyes widened slightly, and she took several seconds before responding, in a rather hostile voice.

"Yes… mister Kaiba. I'm afraid I'm at work right now."

"I know that. There's something I wanted to confirm with you. It's been bugging me recently, and I think only you would- "

"Only I would? Hell, kid, you don't even know me. How do you have my number?"

"Umm, my brother's Seto Kaiba."

"I know that." Short. Vicious.

"And I'm not a kid."

Noelle rolled her eyes, cursing herself. Out of all the people she had to hear from today…

"Well… listen… here's what I was thinking…"

…

After several minutes of beating around the bush Mokuba finally coughed up his hypothesis. He told her everything, from his first suspicions to now (however, he left out his own kidnapping; at any rate she surely heard about it.) Surprisingly it matched up quite well with Noelle's own. She was quite shell-shocked.

"And you're… okay with accepting that?" she told him, still a bit non-believing.

"I called you because… well, you know why now," he replied, his voice quieter now, as if she were going to tell him she was kidding and then further admonish him. "I want you to go. You need to be there. He needs to know."

"I… suppose. I don't even know them, though."

"Oh, I can tell them, it's alright," Mokuba said, gaily, finally convinced of her fidelity. "Thanks for your time. I'm pretty excited now. This is going to be tons of fun."

"Where's your brother now?"
Silence.

"He… just left here. California."

"No wonder I can't reach him. He's coming back right now, right?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, good. You're alright, right?"

"… Yeah. I'm good. Thanks."

Noelle disconnected instead of continuing the conversation.

How curious. Would she have time? Quickly she booted up her laptop and, after waiting for it to come to life, checked the calendar linked to the time in the bottom-right hand corner of her screen. Three months away yet? She could do that.

She pushed the plan to the back of her mind, rattling her mousy curls a bit, and further tried to force herself to think about Pegasus.

I just realized most of my time differences are off. I'll fix it eventually. Why did I never actually think about those before? Truth be told, more than likely, I'll probably re-write the entire thing once I'm done with this. Consider the story a rough draft. Yeah, that' it. Go with that. *cough*

Anyway, no, Pegasus didn't die, if that's what you're wondering from the last chapter. He did shoot himself though, because he's just that deft when he's mentally unstable.

P.S. I thought of an alternate ending the other day too. Yay for character death! (Did I just say that? Whoops! ;) )