Hello everyone. Let us first state that we're really really REALLY sorry about the long wait. This was a very hard chapter to write, and we do hope you understand. However, we are getting to the crux of the story, so be prepared for a wild ride from here on in. We won't waste too much time droning on before the action this time though. Let's get the responses and cut to the chase, shall we?
Sea Girl – We're really glad you're enjoying the fic thus far. There's much more to come, though it will get pretty intense. We hope you're strapped in for the ride. *s*
Gatochu – Oh, we're sorry you didn't find the book as great as we thought you would. Ah well, to each his own, right? But if you finished it in three days then you must have enjoyed it in a way. Yeah, we can't seem to help one person without hurting the rest. It's just a bad habit, what can we say? *blink* You want them to be stuck there longer? Hoo boy, that might not go over well with our mismatched gang, though the possibility of them getting out on time does seem rather far-fetched at this point.
Spirit of the Ring – Yup, and another and another cliffhanger! Haha, we likes them so much, precious, we does! *g*
Mystic-fox – Die? Me? But how would the story ever get done? I don't think Lena would like the whole burden… this is a pretty large task to complete you know.
dragonmistress – Thanks for the compliments, but how can we include more Mokuba? He's like really important and stuff, which is more than most fics do for the poor kid. *g*
Crystal Eyes Glacier Dragon – Wow, thanks so much!
Amber & SW – Well I'm really glad to hear from you. I get worried for my friends, you know. But anyway, what is this about me advocating a Joey/Pegs thing? *shudder* Don't give me such horrid images, my head could explode under such circumstances! As for our dear gloriously sexy Pegasus, more from his POV will show in this part. He'll show up, don't worry – and not with Joey attached at his hip. *L* What an image, its almost blasphemous!
Saisaishi – Well that makes sense. I guess it could work, though the hotel could probably just purchase special magic and stuff off Ebay. They sell everything else it seems. *g*
Firewing – Yea, you figured it out! Whoo-hoo! Isn't Croquet kick ass? And I'm glad you liked the Mokuba and Tristan interaction… the kid has quite a lot to say but doesn't know how to voice it. Maybe he can get in touch with his abilities and solve a few problems here and there before the fic ends, hmm? And as for Pegasus and Yami, we had to temporarily sacrifice them to the snowstorm. *evil grin*
Wingweaver Hope - *nods* Exactly what I was thinking!
Myotismon13 – Yea, Pegsy doesn't get the hero status very often, though as we all know he's more than capable of it (when he can think of someone besides Cecelia or himself anyway *g*), But that dogman really will cause problems for the gang in more ways than they know…
BlackHoleSun – Thank you! But scared pantless? That is kinda disturbed. *g*
Joy-girl – Thanks a lot! We hope all the chars are ok too. Its hurts a writer to harm her beloved ones, but at the same time … the sight of some of them in pain is rather … pleasant. *g*
Seto and Serena – Aw your welcome. We just answer reviews in the order received. We're really pleased you're enjoying it and don't worry, we're writing as fast as we can under our RL circumstances. Hey, at least the chappies are long, right?
(Keyboard is handed over to Lena for safe-keeping.)
Leland Lancaster – Yup, Pegasus was definitely talked about, and much more than that in this chapter. *evil spoilers run free!* Thanks for the compliment, we're finding this fic is making many people Duke and Mokuba-lovers.
Lily22 – Mokuba is adorable, isn't he? Like a cute little puppy dog… what's with the Yugioh characters always referring to dogs anyway? *shrug* Pegasus and Croquet to the rescue, yes, but who will need the rescuing in the end? Pegasus is already missing!
Angelkohaku – Of course, don't you know the dogman's gonna rear his ugly head only when you least want to see it? *eg* Now, now, no threatening the dog man, he's got as much of a right to stay in this hotel as our crew does, right? Yeah, ff.net has a nasty little tendency to remove reviews – Kabuki and I think it's a conspiracy, but that's for another day. =) Waiting to see more Kaiba? Well not to worry, he's here in this chappie and hopefully has finally gotten over the *predicament* upstairs, hm? Well I thought about adding a continuing part, like in the orphanage, but I wasn't sure if it would go over very well. I kinda thought it was too cutesy. Aragorn's your fav char in lotr? Well mine's Legolas in case you didn't see the strange comatose I enter whenever he's mentioned *eyes get glazed in happy memory*. I'm really sorry that you felt that the last chapter was less than you expected, but we're trying to do better. *s*
Darklight – Glad we could keep you entertained when you're RL's filled with school. A lot of information's going to be coming in the following chapters as we enter the crux of this fic, so keep your eyes peeled.
Tornado 666 – Aw, give Duke a chance, they're all really on edge in this hotel. (Though I have to admit that accussing Kaiba of such a thing was the lowest of the low) *flicks Duke in the nose like you would a dog*
Julia Suen – Wow, we're really flattered that you think so! Yeah, this fic is definitely a very thickly plotted story, and we're trying to make sure the characters are correctly developed. It's a harrowing task, let me assure you, but its just so much fun to write!
Dark one3 – All your answers will come in the future, don't worry. You didn't really expect us to leave you guys hanging, now, did you? *eg*
Evilcourtney - You suspected that Seto was the dogman? You and Duke both! Got to agree that fics are bad for schoolwork, but they're a much needed repose, you must admit! Careful at reading this at midnight, it could be bad for your dreams. ;-)
Jherrus – Yessir! *begins typing ferociously*
AngelicSlayer – The Yugioh gang are trying to get out as fast as possible, but ghosts tend to slow the process. =)
Cytrus – We do our best to deliver the most believable, gut-wrenching horror you'll find here. Keep a-readin' and we'll keep a-scarin'.
Cairnsy – Warning : This fic may make you paranoid and suspicious of normal objects in your bedroom. Be aware! Aw, another created Duke fan, you know you're not the first. He's getting pretty popular from this fic, I wonder if we'll start seeing more DukexTristan fics popping up in the future. That could be loads of fun!
Shadowwind – Another addict, *sigh*, guess we've gotta give ya your horror fix!
Hirotani – We've got over 200 reviewers?? O.O
Thanks for sticking around, guys, now you're wait's over. Lets see how everybody's faring in the Overlook Hotel, shall we? Again, please leave a review as you leave, you might disrupt the spirits. ;-)
--Kabuki & Lena
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Chapter 21:
Like swirling dead leaves caught in conflicting gusts of wind a voice rose and fell, mingling with the strange hollow moaning of a breeze that emerged like a whispered wail of agony, nearly lost amid the thousands of snowflakes. It came upon his ears like the scratching of dead branches against a pane of glass. "Aren't you going to come play with me, Pegasus?"
For an endless amount of time he'd been cold, enclosed in the darkness of an icy cavern. He felt distanced from himself, like a parcel long-forgotten in a freezer. The darkness was all around, and though he'd wearily gazed about to search for the sky he knew must exist, his vision was strangely tunneled, and all he saw was a swirling grey vortex ringed in sickening inky black. He'd lost consciousness shortly thereafter, and he couldn't remember seeing anything more. He supposed that he must surely be dead. For a time he floated in a pleasant world of swirling thoughts and emotions, all of which raged blindly for a time before the chill of the cold deadened them, forcing them to fizzle into submission like the dying embers of a fire destined to turn to ash. He'd forgotten why he was there, what he'd come to do, and for the time only the embracing cold filled his awareness, cold as the arms of a dead lover. For a time he was content, until the nagging suspicion that something awful was happening niggled its way into his mind, the idea growing with each passing moment until he forced his thoughts from the frozen void and resolved to discover what it was he'd forgotten.
The ferocious howl of the wind was the first sound he heard as he slowly recovered his senses. The cloudy sky above faded from inky black into the familiar dark gray he'd grown accustomed to. He blinked and sat up, wiping the snow that had collected from his face and hair with a groan. He was dizzy suddenly, and he clutched his head and ground his teeth, willing the sudden nausea to pass. When he was finally able to examine his surroundings without feeling the unpleasant urge to vomit, he looked up again, blinking in confusion. What had happened?
Strangely enough, a voice slithered its way from somewhere beyond his line of sight on his left. It was hollow, cold though child-like, and unmistakably the voice he'd thought he'd heard as he'd stumbled into consciousness. It was a sound filled with an unquenchable sorrow that struck like an icy dagger into his heart. "Pegasus, I'm all alone."
He stared at the gaping grey orifice above his head in utter bewilderment for a moment as his mind began to defrost itself, moving with gaining momentum as it sought to understand. He began to recall in pristine detail the actions he'd taken, the long distance he and Croquet had traveled by snowmobile, the bitter cold worming its way through their thick parkas to sting the skin beneath. Pegasus was no stranger to extreme climates, though he never really considered himself well-suited to such places. The child of obscenely wealthy parents did limit the scope of childhood experience somewhat, and Pegasus had never fared well in such exotic locales. Croquet had often expressed concern, asking if they should stop along the way to rest, but they'd both known that they couldn't stop. There was too much at stake, now, and with heavy realization Pegasus recalled Mokuba's telepathic message blaring over the telekinetic airwaves like a nuclear explosion. Time was running out, but at the moment the cold was nearly unbearable, and as the sun set in the west and the darkness had begun to press in around them, the snowstorm had grown steadily worse. They'd stopped for a moment to get their bearings and to familiarize themselves with the headlights of the snowmobiles before, with Croquet leading the way in his usual determined style, they'd set off once again. It had taken quite a while for him to master the strange vehicle; but Pegasus had always been a rather quick learner, and Croquet had always been an expert in such matters. He'd allowed Croquet to use the map without complaint – dead north. He didn't need a compass to tell him where the danger was waiting.
They'd seemed to travel for hours without speaking over the roar of the engines, and Pegasus was beginning to think that the whole idea of rescuing the brats was worthless. It was probably all in that little Kaiba's head, the notion of ghosts and danger and all that. Yugi Moto had probably put him up to it, and Pegasus reasoned with mounting fury that it would be quite a good joke in the boy's favor to have actually gotten their old enemy to make a panicked dash to the middle of nowhere. He'd almost decided to just leave them when a sharp pang of terror shot up his spine like an electric jolt nearly causing him to crash the vehicle. Croquet had shot over the final snowdrift with ease, but Pegasus already had a notion of what he would see when he'd cleared the snow-laden pines, standing like silent sentries before the horror that was the Overlook.
And to think he could have spent the weekend watching that Tom & Jerry marathon.
Croquet had come to a complete halt at the head of the path. Had the situation not been so dire Pegasus might have laughed at his expression. Even for the Creator of Duel Monsters, though, there was nothing to laugh about. The scene was like something out of a deranged circus or a particularly bad existentialist allegory.
There was a fair-haired man running from a lion.
Pegasus rubbed his eye, and looked a second time. "Croquet, do you see what I see?"
"Yes, sir," Croquet replied, never missing a beat. "It's a lion, sir."
"Uh-huh." Pegasus didn't know if he should laugh or panic. There was something so ridiculous about the whole situation. The wind was blowing the snow downhill from where they stood, and they had a fairly clear view of the scene as it unfolded. The two beasts were spread in a half circle around the boy, herding him away from the hulking monstrosity of the Overlook Hotel.
As for the Overlook itself, Pegasus had never seen the hotel look so … ominous. There was a definite change in the atmosphere of the building, and as Pegasus stared at the mass of energy swirling about the place, he felt a terror he'd never known stab into his very being. The hotel seemed to be ringed in preternatural darkness, a void gaping and open marred the white windows and the Grecian columns which had once seemed so pristine. He shuddered, pulling the collar of his parka closer around his throat, but he could not tear his gaze from the vision that presented itself. Though he no longer possessed the Millennium Eye, he had bonded with the item, and it in turn had left some residue of its energy upon his soul. He'd been a fair telepath in his youth, but as he stared at the Overlook and the swirling cloud of evil which shrouded it, he knew with absolute certainty that he was seeing into a plane of existence which was normally forbidden to the human eye. It oozed supernatural energy.
He might have stared forever had Croquet not placed one hand on his shoulder in concern and shaken him. "Master Pegasus? Are you alright?"
"Behold the place where thou with fortitude must arm thyself.*" Pegasus shook his head in disbelief, staring with absolute horror into Croquet's unreadable face. "We've got to stop it … whatever it is … and get to the hotel as quickly as possible."
Even though Croquet had no idea what Pegasus was looking at, he could tell by the tone of the man's voice that he was terrified. Years of experience under the final heir to the Crawford Estate had lead Croquet to trust more in his master's sixth sense than in his own two eyes. The silver-haired man stood gaping at the great edifice, his bottom lip trembling in inexplicable fear. The bodyguard nodded, his grip tightening on his employer's shoulder in reassurance for a moment. Even though he knew exactly where Pegasus was coming from, he also knew that immediate action was necessary. "We have to get those kids away from here, Max. Pull yourself together." He watched his employer carefully as the slim man pulled his raging emotions in check and returned his gaze, albeit a bit slowly. Croquet nodded and turned, squinting into the snowy abyss that served as the Overlook's courtyard. "Is that … a hedge animal? What the hell's going on?"
Pegasus couldn't help but shrink at the accusing tone in his friend's voice. "I don't know, Croquet, but unless we're both delirious, that's a walking bush over there. In all the years I've dealt with the mysteries of the Shadow Realm, I have never seen anything like this before. Never in the real world. Never in this realm. I – I don't even know where we should begin…"
Croquet tried to focus his mind on rescuing the shadowy boy who seemed on the verge of being mauled; he had no time to argue with the other man about whether supernatural entities existed. As far as he was concerned, having aided and abetted in the capture and imprisonment of several souls, the existence of an alternate realm was already certain. He thought for a moment before killing the engine, moving behind his snowmobile in search of something from the rear compartment. "I believe I have an idea, sir."
"Well good because I don't think Joey Wheeler has much time left." Panic was tinged the edges of his voice, making his normally faint British accent more clipped than usual as Pegasus slipped his goggles off in a smooth motion, his eye narrowing against the wind. He threw his arms up into the air in exasperation. From a distanced perspective, it amused Croquet to watch his ever-patient employer lose his cool. "This is ridiculous, Croquet, surely there's something I can do!"
The older man didn't answer, but his silence and the slight smirk that tugged at his mouth as he worked were telling. Eventually Pegasus' attention was drawn away from the plight of the poor boy and toward his most trusted friend. He knew Croquet was fallible, logic dictated that everyone was in one way or another, but the bodyguard had time and again proven himself quite able in the most dire of circumstances. Whenever there was a crisis, the older man seemingly materialized nearby, ever loyal and willing to aid his master. Pegasus knew from years of reading the other man's mind that Croquet was only utilizing the skills long ago acquired as an agent in the bureau, but sometimes the man came upon him so suddenly that he could have sworn some strange Shadow Magic had been at play.
He didn't try to read Croquet's mind out of professional courtesy and a distrust of his own innate abilities after the loss of his Millennium Eye, but he could tell by the stern expression and jerky movements that some crazy idea had sprung into the man's mind. Pegasus knelt gingerly in the snow beside his friend, examining the gas can and flare gun curiously as he replaced his goggles. "What do you plan to do with those? Is there anything I can do to help?" He picked the flare gun up haphazardly.
Croquet's eyes grew wide behind his foggy goggles as he snatched the weapon away, as if taking it from a child. "Pegasus, I couldn't trust you with one of these if my life depended on it."
The silver haired man smiled, a sly expression falling over his features. "But what about my life, hmm?"
Croquet grunted in disapproval, letting his lack of response speak for him.
"Well, what are you going to do?"
"Tell you that this is not a time for childish curiosity, sir."
Pegasus chuckled, shaking his head. He eyed his friend again, gaze shifting from flare gun to gas can and back again. After a moment, his eye widened in realization, "Oh no! You're crazy, you know that?"
"Don't start, sir. I have this matter well in hand." He stood, ignoring the shocked expression as he strode over to Pegasus' snowmobile.
Although Pegasus could sense the paternal tendencies of his bodyguard, he knew that just as his own curiosity was getting in the way of their work, Croquet's over-protectiveness could lead to their undoing. The Overlook, as far as Pegasus could tell, was not a place for mistakes. He could not shake the inexorable feeling of dread, as though the hotel had been expecting them and was observing their every move and thought. Every so often the silver-haired man would turn to glance nervously in the general direction of the Overlook as though he could actually make out the outline of the monstrosity through the blizzard. He was both drawn toward and repulsed by the hotel, and the very sight of the shadowy edifice through the swirling snow sent an icy tingle through his spine. Then, resolutely and with the expression of a man coming face-to-face with his lifelong sins, he turned to the scene of Joey being overrun by unnatural monsters, the strange tableau etching a stern expression from the pain-riddled artist.
"Sir?" Pegasus was once again pulled from his reverie. Whenever he looked at the Overlook, he realized with a bit of concern, he seemed to lose touch with reality. It was as though the Hotel warped his shaky stance upon this realm. Of course, he'd always felt as though he didn't belong here… "Sir, are you paying attention?" Croquet had already started his snowmobile again, revving the engine in preparation.
Pegasus nodded, "Yes… yes, sorry… I'm coming."
"No, I don't want you endangered, sir. You go on ahead to the Overlook and round up those duelists."
"Well yippie-kay-yay Croquet – this isn't Nevada, in case you hadn't noticed the freezing temperatures and lack of sand. And by the way, just where do you think you're going?"
Croquet stared at him as though he were insane. "To help that boy being attacked, sir!"
"And what, you want me to run along to the Overlook like a good little boy?"
Croquet sighed, "There isn't time for this right now, Max."
Narrowing his gaze, Pegasus pulled himself up to his full height, towering over his lackey as the strands of his silken hair that had come free from the confines of his parka whipped around his head in the wind. For a moment, Croquet felt miniscule as though he'd been assaulted by the furious eye of God. The eye patch, covering the place where the Millennium Eye had once been, seemed like a hollow cavern in the faint moonlight. "I give the orders, in case you've forgotten Croquet. We'll go help Joey Wheeler together."
Croquet scoffed; from the way he talked you'd think Pegasus had thought of the plan. "I'm afraid I can't allow that, sir. You can fire me later, but for now I want you to go on ahead and find the rest of the group. I'm sure they're in the hotel, and I want you to gather them up for me so we can leave as soon as possible." The elder bodyguard narrowed his eyes, pulling his stature upwards and attempting to intimidate the taller man as he had when Pegasus had still been a child. "Do I make myself clear?"
Croquet held the inimitable gaze of his employer for a long moment before Pegasus miraculously turned away. "Fine. We're wasting time anyway, arguing like this."
"I knew you'd see it my way." The older man smirked as Pegasus sighed in exasperation.
"Don't push your luck. We'll do this your way for now, but if things get sticky I know you'll wish you'd asked for my help." He was about to turn when Croquet cleared his throat. Pegasus turned back, tossing his hair in indignation. "Oh, and what does Buffalo Bill the Bodyguard want now?"
"Since I'm taking your flare gun and the gas can, you keep this with you. Here," he tossed a burlap package toward the silver-haired man who awkwardly caught it. "Take this for safe-keeping."
Pegasus hefted the bag for a moment before shaking his head. "Why are you giving me these things? What's in here, a can of beans and some glow sticks?"
"Just keep it with you, sir. You might find its contents helpful in case we get separated."
"Whatever you say." Pegasus sighed, revving his engine before shooting down the slope in a spray of powder. The bodyguard had no choice but to follow. Croquet wasn't sure if the younger man would follow his instructions, but there was little else he could do besides level threats. In the end, Pegasus would always do as he pleased regardless of advice from others.
Of course Pegasus had gone against the orders of his elder in the end, though he hadn't expected to become so involved. Croquet had been at an obvious loss as to how he would get the snarling topiaries away from the young blond, and although Pegasus tried hard to ignore the drama playing out behind him, he couldn't blot out the unearthly growling or the cries of pain. With a growl of his own he'd whipped the snowmobile around, turning back to the scene determined to help. He still felt responsible for the entire situation, and though he wasn't overly fond of Yugi's little entourage, he would not condemn any one of them to such a ridiculous death – mauled by rabid balsam firs. He hadn't much time to think as he'd charged the lions, especially as he saw them claw at their helpless prey. The wind had shifted a little to allow better visibility with the aid of his headlight, and at the last minute Pegasus put the slope of a snowdrift to good use.
It had never fully occurred to him though that he wouldn't be able to control the damned machine. His plan worked in a manner of speaking, and after careening over the topmost branches of the creatures, and feeling absolutely in control of the situation, the silver-haired man had enough forethought to leap from the machine in time to clear the crash. He landed with a harsh gasp in a particularly deep snowdrift as the snowmobile crashed into a gnarled tree where the motor sputtered and died. Fortunately the lions were as amazed by his breakneck maneuver as he himself, so that when he landed on the other side and although he had lost his means of transport Pegasus was dazed and giddy with the thrill.
For a moment, the breath had been knocked out of him and he pulled himself up onto his elbows as he tried to gasp for air. He looked up slowly, squinting through the thick snow to see that the two large hedge beasts had indeed left Joey alone, but the blond had not yet regained his senses as he stood directly between the awaiting flare gun Croquet gripped in his vice fist and the two lions that were for the moment completely distracted by Pegasus' crazy stunt. The owner of Industrial Illusions had seen no other choice but to maneuver the boy quickly to safety. Without thinking, Pegasus focused his energies, employing a psychic force the likes of which he'd not used in years. He had grit his teeth, flinging a hand out to catapult Joey through the air to land at the older man's feet. It was a purely instinctual action, and he'd forgotten the tingling feeling of electricity that danced around the tips of his fingers from the psychic blast. Well, he'd thought in despair, the Overlook now knows I'm here – whether for good or for ill. He'd stared dumbly for a moment in surprise as the topiaries had suddenly burst into flames. He gasped, backing away from the blaze as the monsters shrieked … and then …
He had barely had time register he was falling until it was too late and the world had turned black. So the question was where had he landed? And how in the world could he get out to reach Croquet and the other duelists. He stared up once again into the snowy sky and shivered, wrapping his lean arms around his torso in an attempt to conserve his body heat. He could easily tell that there was no way he could climb out, the sides of the gaping hole were not only too high for him to reach even by jumping, but the walls were slick with ice that had melted and frozen a dozen times over the past few days. He knew Croquet had packed a strange assortment of gear and oddities in his backpack after they'd raided the basement level of the airport early that morning, but Pegasus didn't completely trust the man's survival capabilities. Sure he was an excellent bodyguard and thus a professional when it came to firearms and security systems, but he in truth doubted the man had thought to pack anything useful like a rope or a set of matches. Croquet never did have any common sense. He stared up at the strange circle of grey above his head and began to piece together a sort of dazed theory. It seemed to be a well of some sort, probably unused for years and abandoned … Pegasus didn't remember hearing about any well on the property when he'd purchased it. But as he examined the stone of the walling that left off at dirt just above his head, it seemed more and more to indeed be a well. His head was still foggy, and when he pulled his fingers from his forehead they were stained crimson. It was as much as he'd expected from such a fall, he was lucky that was the full extent of his injuries, and he closed his eye against the headache that threatened. The dizziness was bad, but he fancied it was getting better. Maybe he'd be able to find some way out.
"Will you ready to play soon, Pegasus?"
"Huh?" The silver-haired man turned, gazing about the cavern as sparse snowflakes wafted down from the orifice above him. He saw only darkness and snow, in the corner was the fragile skeleton of a dead cat, its body frozen and bloated, the tiny neck twisted at a horrible angle. The staring frozen green eyes made Pegasus scoot back with a start, the realization of his own luck dawning on him more fully. "Oh sweet, merciful Anubis, thanks for seeing fit not to spirit me away just yet."
"Heehee … you're funny!"
Pegasus gasped and turned again, his vision wavering as the sudden motion jarred his aching head. He blinked rapidly, scanning all around for the source of the voice. He knew he hadn't imagined it that time, and his heartbeat accelerated as he remembered the images Mokuba had sent him, the feeling of strangulation and of a terror of the unknown pressing in all around. There was a large cavern on one side of the floor of the well, the mud frozen and adorned with icicles that glistened dangerously, beyond which a great dark maw lay open as an inky wound. No matter how hard he tried Pegasus could see nothing, though his senses told him he did indeed have company. "Is, ah, is someone there?"
"Oh yes, long time. Mommy and Daddy didn't find me and I've been here a long long long time … I haven't had anyone to play with in so long, Mister Pegasus sir." The voice was child-like and friendly, yet no humanoid form could be discerned beyond the icicle-rimmed cavern.
Pegasus swallowed, his gaze trained firmly on the opening as he lifted the bag Croquet had given him from his shoulder. Hopefully there was something in it he could use to get the hell out. "Well, um, don't rush. I'm not sure I'd be much fun."
There was no noise for a time, and Pegasus breathed a little easier as he turned his attention to the bag's contents. It took a moment for his vision to pick out anything in the dark, but when he did he was amazed. He lifted a grappling hook from the canvas bag, blinking in utter confusion – how could one man be so god damned prepared? He stood cautiously, eying the pitch dark as he uncoiled the rope and laid firm grip on the metal handle of the claw-like grappling hook. Its three metal spikes glimmered in the light as Pegasus weighed the object curiously and reluctantly turned his attention to the mouth of the well several feet above him.
Pegasus had always been a bit of an adventurer. Some of his fondest memories included spelunking into caverns and ominous crypts with Shadi in Egypt a few years ago. In fact, he considered himself a rather successful explorer, having aided the ever stern Egyptian in researching the all-powerful God Cards they'd discovered in those dusty caverns. He could still envision the hieroglyphics, the carvings made of the duel monsters, and the strange images of the unknown pharaoh whose name was now lost to time. He'd had help then, and though he was familiar with the way one used a grappling hook, he wasn't sure if he could project the metal object high enough to free himself from the pit.
As he stood staring up at the mouth of the well, a strange sound reached his ears, like dead leaves being pushed across wet grass. It was an odd sound, nothing he'd expected to hear in such a blizzard, and he got the distinct impression that there was some weight involved, like that of a moving creature. Something was coming towards him, slouching closer in the dark cold of the well. It was moving slowly, but there was no telling how deep the cavern was that adjoined the well, and as Pegasus stared into the yawning dark, he expected to see the rotten husk of a child long dead and mummified as it dragged its crumbling body closer. As though to confirm his suspicions, the child's voice returned, bodiless and hovering in the empty space of the snowy catacomb, "I'm coming to play with you since you won't come see me. It's not nice to make me wait, you big meanie." The scraping dragging sound continued, echoing in the stillness and now accompanied by a distinct odor reminiscent of rotted leaves and damp.
Pegasus had been afraid at first, but finally he was beginning to calm himself. He snorted, turning his attention back to the backpack as he sorted about in search of a flare gun. If he could shoot off a flare, maybe Croquet could help him get out of the confounded hole. Unfortunately he searched in vain – the only flare gun had been used to destroy the hedge lions, and though Pegasus managed to find a few emergency flares, they were of no use without a means of projecting them out of the well.
He leaned back against the dirt and stone wall, his gaze returning to the grappling hook in his hand. There was no other option, he would freeze to death if he didn't get out soon, and the ghostly child would probably try to stop him from escaping. The hotel was indeed strong if it could revive even the most mundane of spirits in its service. He sighed, craning his neck to look up into the swirling grey sky and the lip of the well. He didn't know if the hook would catch, but he'd certainly give anything a shot about now. He moved a few feet away from the wall and twirled the hook a few times, the rope and metal making a whooshing sound as it sliced through the air before he released it. The hook soared high, and for a moment Pegasus was confident that he'd soon be free; however he'd failed to put enough arc in the throw and the hook fell at his feet with a dull thud. "That could have certainly gone better."
The sound of scuffling from behind urged him to gather the grappling hook quickly, knocking the snow away with a few smacks. His hands were trembling as he drew the hook back, squinting with his one good eye and trying to judge the distance. His depth perception had never been right after being given the Millennium Eye. It was very difficult for him to accurately judge how far and high to throw the projectile, not even considering the steepness of the well itself and the ice which had surely crusted along the lip of the hole. Out of the corner of his right eye he suddenly saw a flash of movement, something pale and dreadfully emaciated waving in the dark, almost blinding against the stone despite the fuzzy brown jacket, long decayed and mildewed. Pegasus felt a tremor shoot through his veins as a memory surfaced, one he'd tried hard to forget, the reason he'd become terrified and fascinated with the Overlook in the first place, a reason that dwelled in Room 217 …
He grit his teeth and flung the hook with his full strength, hoping with all his might that the metal spikes found purchase in the stone and rock above. The metal object grew smaller and smaller as it shot upwards, glistening briefly amidst the snow and opal moonlight before vanishing out of sight.
Pegasus waited, measuring time by the beating of his frantic heart, but the hook did not drop. The scratching was moving closer but the silver-haired man tried to remain calm, grasping the rope in his slender fingers before beginning the long ascent with a huff. It would be trying, but he didn't think the spirit would follow. It had long ago realized there was no way out for an abandoned child. Immediately his arms began to ache, and Pegasus realized how truly out of shape he'd become in recent years, but he was determined not to concede. Below him, the wail of a child echoed throughout the vast cylindrical cavern, but Pegasus ignored it, all of his hopes focused on moving upward and into freedom. Climbing was the easy part, he told himself between gasps and growls. The Overlook itself was the real hurdle, and not only was Mokuba and the rest of their party in danger, but Croquet had probably gone on alone.
***************
The cold metal felt good against the fire of his hands as his legs shook from the remnants of the adrenaline rush. He breathed deeply, somehow thinking that the more air he pulled into his lungs – the greater the chance he would forget the haunting experience upstairs. His body was still reeling from the encounter, but his mind was still locked in the bathroom of room 217 with the leering image of the dead woman dancing like a searing flame across his vision. He held the doors of the elevator car open with each hand on the resting on the frame. A few times the door had tried to close attempting to return to the upper levels of the hotel to some awaiting passenger, but Kaiba could care less. For the moment this elevator was his one link to reality, it was a type of sanctuary from the jumbled confusion that had jarred his senses upstairs. It simply couldn't have been real - his mind simply wouldn't allow any other explanation.
The sharp prodding of a hard rectangular object made him wince, and with a grunt Kaiba yanked the scrapbook from the inside pocket of his trench coat, allowing the item to drop to the floor with a smack. He already was breathing hard, but as he stared the book seemed to catch the wind, and Kaiba gasped as the cover flew open, urged on as though by some breeze. Kaiba stared in wonder and fear, noting despite his quaking terror that there was no draft strong enough to turn even those aged pages. Newspaper clippings and countless articles, black and white photographs of smiling men and women, yellowed with age and tinged with damp, sped past in a flurry of motion. So much Kaiba had yet to read, so much history in one place, and for an instant the true press of time held him in place. Seto could not tear his eyes away from the sight as the pages stopped turning. Seto didn't need to read the brief write up – the page was familiar. He'd read it last night, his first night in the Overlook. He knew what he would see if he examined the pages and the brief mention of a young woman, her name synonymous with lust and death.
Kaiba swallowed hard and shook his head, hoping to clear it of the strange hazy feeling. It wasn't possible, it couldn't be possible, and yet the proof was so obvious. He knew what had happened in Room 217 … and the origin of the macabre sculpture in the basement? It must have belonged to her. He didn't want to recall her name, but as he stared vacantly his gaze was magnetically drawn to the designated page and there, as easy for his weary eyes to pick out as if it had been highlighted, was the name he so longed to forget. Lily Eiden… that had been her name. The history burst into his brain as though someone had taken a match to dry paper.
Suddenly Kaiba felt as though he were the one being blown by the breeze, his memory in a flash was flooded with images, memories of a life he'd never lived. The summer light streaming down on the green hedge maze, the sweet smell of flowers hitting his nostrils with such pure memory he'd might have sworn it was real. A man emerging from a shadow, tall and fairly handsome by even Kaiba's standards – Ronald Dilacey. A woman emerged from his side, moving with coquettish grace she approached the older man, wrapping her hands around his waist and sliding her slim fingers up his back beneath the thick tweed jacket. Kaiba began to feel dizzy, he felt like the sight was familiar, but not. A flash of light was the only warning before she dug the dagger into his back between the shoulder blades. The man tried to recoil backwards, his eyes bulging in shock as her arms held the dagger in place. Kaiba watched in horror as the muscles in her arms contorted as she twisted the blade, Ronald screamed in pure agony. Surely, Kaiba thought hopefully, someone would come. Surely someone would hear his cries for help. A crime such as this couldn't go unpunished, right? But the doomed couple was alone in the maze, seemingly oblivious to their shadowy voyeur.
A laughter suddenly struck his ears, pealing out in a resounding echo that seemed to fill his thundering ears. The woman's pink pouty lips curved upwards in a gruesome smile as the man finally slumped from the pain and fell to the ground in a puddle of his own blood, his pale fingers clutching the hem of her sheer skirt in a final plea for mercy. But his plea would go unanswered as his eyes glazed over and his chest heaved no more. The woman stood perfectly still, like a cat that had finished toying with its prey. Kaiba attempted to calm his breathing and gain some semblance of control until the woman turned around, her thin attractive form bloating and pulsing in a sickening rhythm, her clothes falling away to reveal skin so mottled with decay that it forced Kaiba to turn away from sheer disgust. The world became blaringly bright, and Seto felt he might be engulfed within the white light that consumed him. "Stop it!" he cried, involuntarily clutching his ears from the hideous laughter that sounded more like a scream. "Stop playing with my mind, you disgusting whore!"
He watched the light slowly fade from behind his closed eyelids as the laughter retreated with reluctance. Kaiba stood still, listening to his heavy breathing until he was certain that he could once again open his eyes without fear of what he might see. He cracked his eyes open slowly, amazed to see the embers of the fireplace illuminating the dancing shadows in the grand hall. "How?" He choked out with a voice so timid Mokuba might not have recognized him.
He almost felt as though he was falling, down the center of the staircase in the pitch black darkness of the basement. The scurrying thing was still smiling at him with gleaming yellow eyes and bloody fingernails, watching him with pure glee as he fell into the gaping abyss. Seto shook his head in weariness as though the movement would somehow clear his vision and allow him to see once more. He recalled being able to see clearly on the bus ride over here, and at the office last week as he stared at the flickering screen of his laptop. But ever since he'd stepped into the Overlook Hotel, he only now realized that his vision had been skewed. His head always ached – but he wasn't certain if that was from the fall that first night or if he'd had pain before then. His memory had become a tangled mess over this past weekend and he simply could not fathom why. Seto noted with mild surprise that he had somehow fallen to his hands and knees in the unexplainable onslaught. He felt doubled over at the image which returned uninvited, dry retching pitifully in the hallway as the elevator doors struggled to close on either side of him. He gasped and retched again, his empty belly unable to produce anything more than a pitiful feeling.
He heard behind him the eager elevator doors shut so that the vehicle might move upwards to more important business. He raked a cold hand through his hair and allowed himself a moment of relaxation as he dropped down into one of the plush leather armchairs that stood before him. It didn't occur to him that it was a bit strange for a chair to be situated to face the elevator – his mind was too involved to think on such a logical level. He shut his eyes in exhaustion, perhaps for the first time since the damned detention had begun, and for a moment he felt as though everything had only been a dream. A demented dream, to be certain, but this temporary relief gave him a moment to think that perhaps he would be able to last through the remainder of the weekend with his mind intact.
His reverie was interrupted, however, by a tremendous crash which thundered within the corridors of the lobby, ricocheting off the faded walls and dusty floors. Kaiba leapt to his feet in shock and whirled around with a startled cry, his cold blue eyes darting about, searching for the source of the sudden barrage of noise. He almost expected to see the dead woman again, clambering down the walls toward him, her black lips twisted in malicious delight; but there was no movement anywhere, only a sudden billow cloud of dust and debris that spilled out from the general direction of the stairway. Seto blinked curiously, his mind sluggish and uncomprehending. Hadn't the stairs fallen already when that idiot Duke Devlin had bungled onto them from the second floor?
Seto's platform shoes clunked upon the parquet floor as he cautiously moved toward the source of the sound. The pile of debris from earlier was still there, but the hole Yugi Moto had used to dig out his friend was no more. A few stray pieces of aged wood fell clattering from a yawning abyss that seemed to sprawl endlessly above his head. Kaiba stared, peering into the void as though he expected to see a human figure, twisting in terror and outrageous pain, falling to certain death from the heights above. He turned his gaze back to the remainder of the staircase piled high on top of the remains of the second floor stairway. Seto moved closer to examine the mess and then craned his neck upwards again in an attempt to find the cause of the wreckage that had suddenly appeared before him. But the cloud of dust was too thick for even his keen eyes to see through, and as Seto moved around the mountain of wood and metal he felt some unexpected object suddenly impede his path nearly causing him to fall. He lost his balance for a moment and waved his arms in the air like a bird that had had its wings clipped until he could once more regain his footing. He gasped, panting in shock – the last thing he needed at the moment was another surprise. When he glanced down to see what he'd nearly tripped over, he almost laughed at his own idiocy. Almost.
"A radio?" he picked up the heavy old-fashioned box in awe. It sat a good distance away from the staircase pile, quiet and reposed, as though it knew the staircase was going to fall from the beginning. He resisted the urge to drop-kick the damn thing, glad no one had been around to witness his near pratfall. The radio's old-fashioned speaker was large and cumbersome, nothing like the microscopic insect-like mikes he hid behind his own trench coat collar. A large thick cord hung off the back like a useless tail. He stood, smirking at the dusty design and model. "Where in the world did this piece of crap come from?"
A gruff voice suddenly echoed, bouncing around the hollow stairway, "Can't you learn to appreciate anything, you whiny little pup?"
"What the hell?" Kaiba spun on his heel, nearly toppling over as he searched for the source of the voice. It was horribly familiar… "Who's there?" He cried, attempting to pull some truth out of his verbal attacker, "Who are you?"
The man laughed, an eerie sound that make Kaiba inwardly cringe. "You're very forgetful, Seto. Surely you haven't already forgotten me." The voice was metallic, but even in its obscure pitch Kaiba knew the owner of the voice. The realization hit him cold in the belly and seemed to drag his heart down with it. He dropped the radio with a dull thump to the floor as his fingers went numb. His heartbeat roared in his ears as he realized with terror whose voice it was.
"Goza – Gozaburo? But you're dead." Seto's eyes grew wide as he backed away from the accursed piece of old technology that lay on its side on the ground. How ironic that his militarily advanced father would choose such a pathetic form of communication. The heavy standing microphone had slid from the top to clatter next to its companion on the hard wooden floor. Seto waited a few moments, allowing his breathing to calm, staring at the black box as though it had been dropped at his feet by an alien spaceship. After the experience upstairs, Kaiba had resigned himself inside to take these ghostly histories as more than a grain of salt. He was trying to start believing, steeling himself for what pranks the hotel would next throw his way – but never in all his years would he have imagined his father's voice to emerge along with all the others. Questions began to fill his mind – had his father's soul somehow been trapped within the Hotel? How was such a thing possible? Kaiba had a hard time believing in the existence of an afterlife much less that his father still had the ability to curse him from beyond the grave.
Kaiba shook his head and wondered not for the first time this weekend if he was truly losing his mind as he walked up to the discarded radio again, picking it up with great care. "I don't know what's wrong with me," he muttered to himself, feeling the ache of his injured arm from the weight of the device.
"Well I do," the voice spoke again, heated in anger. "You've lost your head, Seto. I can't believe what you've done to my company! Here I thought I was leaving it in capable hands. After all I did for you, after all I gave you!"
Seto held the radio out in arm's length, staring at the foreign object in disbelief. He held it above his head, turning the large box around in his hands – trying to find a small receiver, some kind of microphone, anything that could explain the voice of his dead adoptive father. "What kind of trick is this?!" He growled even as his heart leapt into his throat. "How in the world is Pegasus doing this? He couldn't have known him – he couldn't have copied his voice at the very least! It – it's impossible!"
"You always did have a thick skull."
"Shut up!" Seto dropped the black radio again, the noise clattering against the high vaulted walls of the stairway. "You're dead!"
"Well I should hope I knew that by now." The man's laughter was humorless. "How long has it been Seto? Don't you know a corpse when you hear one?" Gozaburo's eerie voice made Kaiba's stomach do flip-flops as it bounced around the darkest corners of the stairway, cold and wind-blown like the dull hum of a metal fan. "Well, judging by your ridiculous show upstairs, I'd guess that's a no."
"How did you know about that?" Kaiba's eyes became slits as he snarled through gritted teeth. "How did you know?!"
The laughter again, hollow and thin like so many of the empty promises the man had made in life. "You never figured it out, did you? You can't hide anything from me. I know all your faults, all your secrets, all your disgusting, filthy desires – I know exactly what kind of monster you are, Seto. I should know, I created you. No, you can't ever fool me. You should've stopped trying a long time ago, boy."
"I made Kaiba Corporation respectable." Kaiba spat, "I made technology that would help people, not tear them apart. Only a monster could ever create such evil."
"Hn, evil you call it – I call it vision."
"You're as crazy as ever, Gozaburo."
"Yes, be that as it may, it looks like I raised you well."
The hairs began to rise on the back of Seto's neck. "What are you talking about?"
"Well, it's good to see you finally acting on your own, instead of always depending on someone else. At least I taught you that much: never allow someone else to be your weakness."
Seto smirked at his invisible opponent, "I have no weaknesses."
"No, not anymore. That little brat deserves what's coming to him."
"Mokuba," Seto gasped, "Don't bring him into this. This has nothing to do with him!"
"Oh, but he has always played the part of the damsel in distress, Seto. That's what you failed to understand. Mokuba is your weakness, and as long as he's around you will always fail." The voice dipped lower, the syllables drawn out, "As long as Mokuba's alive you will never succeed."
"That's a lie! What would you know about such things? You're dead! I watched your body fall to the streets from Kaiba Corp Tower!"
"Dead men tell no tales, Seto? That's not exactly the case as you can see. I knew about the woman upstairs. I know what Mokuba has done to you – my prodigy, my heir, my legacy turned whelp that still wastes his time on pointless games."
"Be quiet! You always lie."
"Ah, so at least now you understand, Seto. Such a fast learner. Dead though my body may be, I am still here. Imagine what you could do without him, Seto. Imagine what you could become."
Seto couldn't help the intrigue that Gozaburo sparked within him, the longing – the unquenchable thirst for absolute power. "Go on."
"Without that annoying little straggler, you could extend Kaiba Corporation's power farther than even I could imagine. Don't you think your business comrades find it a bit odd and perhaps even… amusing that the great Seto Kaiba jumps like a dog for everything his baby brother asks?"
"I don't – "
"Do you really pretend not to see the way they laugh at you when your back is turned? Do you still deny yourself for his protection? You think those little brats upstairs want to be your friends? Want to help you?" The man's cruel laughter was unmistakable, cold and harsh as sandpaper over the hood of a rusty car. If Seto had retained any doubts about the man's identity, they were immediately shattered. "Look at you, quaking like the useless little brat you've always been. I should've brushed by you in that orphanage instead of going easy on you in a chess match."
"You miserable liar! You never could admit defeat to me." Seto growled, his blue eyes alight with old hatred. He glared at the radio as though it were the reincarnation of Gozaburo Kaiba himself. Despite all his experience with machines, the radio had begun to seem less like a simple appliance and more like some cruel joke planted by his long-dead adoptive father in some twisted alliance between Gozaburo Kaiba and Pegasus Crawford.
Gozaburo didn't waste a beat however, his disembodied voice hovering like some dim specter throughout the vast empty space of the lobby. "And how did you repay me, boy? By destroying all that I toiled to build?"
Seto shook his head, his own cold laughter shaky as he tried to reign in his own emotions and maintain his slippery grasp of control. He was weak from fear and he could still feel the slimy aged taste of dead flesh in his throat if he thought on it long enough, but he forced himself to remain focused. He'd always tried his hardest to remain in control in Gozaburo's presence – he knew from experience that the man would shatter him if he showed any sign of weakness. "You stole my invention! You used me to make weapons of war!" A white-hot fury that had been building since before the demise of Gozaburo, born with the sudden death of his parents and kindled by years of repression began to boil over. The cool façade was falling away, revealing a man enraged by all the injustices of the world and all the manners in which he'd been made a fool of fate. It had begun with Gozaburo, who had coerced him into sacrificing his emotions, his chances for personal happiness, in exchange for the comforts Seto knew he and Mokuba were worthy of enjoying. Gozaburo had fueled his resentment, tempering the anger into a deadly weapon, ruthless and unmerciful as no other boy businessman could ever have become. Seto had continued moving forward steadfastly, monotonous as a machine, determined to provide every comfort and safety for his brother while satisfying his own lust for power.
"I paid for you, Seto. You were simply a passing fancy. Nothing ever compared to Noa, you were simply an amusement – and an expensive amusement at that. I did what anyone else would have done. I used you to make a profit. What else were you good for?"
Seto clenched the fist of his good arm, his torn shoulder having practically gone numb hours ago. Tears were stinging at his eyes, but he fought back with determined ferocity. "You're dead. You can't do anything to me. Your threats are empty – you're empty."
"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you? Death doesn't mean much in the Overlook, in case you hadn't noticed." Then the hall began to reverberate with the man's laughter once again, bouncing off the arched wooden rafters, the mechanical static stabbing into Seto's thoughts with an air of ridicule.
"Be quiet!" Seto cried, pushing himself away from the radio and nearly toppling over in his haste to escape the mocking laughter. His hands itched for some kind of weapon – something to show that he was not weak, something to protect him in this vulnerable state. Miraculously, his fingers latched hold of a cold metal rod that had somehow found its way to his palm. Without a second thought, he grabbed the object and raised it above his head as he straddled the seemingly innocent black radio, still erupting with Gozaburo's laughter. "I sent you to Hell once; you're not coming back again!" With ecstatic glee he brought the metallic object down on the radio, the crush of metal so pleasing to his ears that he repeated the motion over and over again in a relentless fury until his own screams had melted into sobs.
He took a step back to reorient himself, glancing down at the large shovel that he gripped in both hands. It was large enough to shovel coal, and heavy enough to have shattered the radio into a billion pieces. So wrapped in his own murderous rage, Kaiba simply ignored the question of where the weapon had come from along with a small folded piece of parchment that lay meticulously folded on the floor. The words upon it were written in graceful calligraphy, the black ink staining the thick textured paper like an open wound, Compliments of the House.
Paying no attention to these details, Kaiba smirked and spit in a final act of defiance on the crushed and defeated radio. There was silence for a long moment in which Seto stood tall and pale from blood loss and fright, his eyes hollow with lack of sleep and his body full of aches after so much damage dealt in the past two days. He listened intently and could hear the wind whipping around the eaves of the old building, howling as the snowstorm picked up momentum outside. The air felt electric as Kaiba began to feel one with the building, one with the Overlook. Perhaps Gozaburo had been right in his own twisted way, maybe power could be obtained from this place. Maybe that was the reason Pegasus had purchased it, but Kaiba swore to himself that the cocky owner of Industrial Illusions would pay for causing him so much anguish. He could hear his own labored breathing and … something else, like a low murmured conversation coming from the large fireplace just beyond his line of sight. He wondered … who could be there? Was it a trick of some sort to lure him deeper into the central room of the Overlook and perhaps face-to-face with his quarry? He cocked his head to one side, his cerulean eyes narrowing as the conversation continued, not quite loud enough for him to hear, but not so hushed that he was fooled into blaming the wind.
* Quote taken from The Divine Comedy: The Inferno by Dante Alighieri