"Your coffee, Mr. Wheeler."

Joey looks up from his phone screen, eyes widening as he wracked his brain for an excuse for being on his phone at work. A wave of relief washes over him as his gaze falls upon a black-haired girl holding a cardboard tray of coffee cups on her arm like a waitress.

"Nicky, right. Um, remind me what I asked for, will ya?" Joey asks. He sits up a little straighter, hastily locking his phone as the intern sets his coffee on the desk.

The girl's eyes crinkle, and her lips part into an easy smile. "Dark roast, Mr. Wheeler. With three French vanilla creamers." She bites her lip, suppressing a teasing giggle. "I'm still not sure that I can let you drink that much sugar in good conscience."

Joey rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "Good work anyways, Nicky," he teases. "Remind me what's on the schedule again, today?"

Nicky frowns with concentration, pulling a miniature notepad from the pocket of her sweatshirt and leafing through the well-worn pages. "Um, a meeting with someone from the cyber security firm that deals with our electronic recordkeeping, in….five minutes." She bites the corner of her lip. "She's outside right now. Should I send her in?"

"Who?" Joey pauses with his coffee cup raised to his mouth. His eyebrows furrow as he asks, "What's that gotta do with me?" He motions at the nameplate that sits on his desk: Joseph K. Wheeler, LCSW, and the emblem of the Domino City Children's Sanctuary in the lower right-hand corner. "I work with kids, trying to help them keep their heads while they go through hell. I don't do that computer stuff." His nose wrinkles with mock distaste.

Nicky shrugs apologetically. "Sorry, Mr. Wheeler. They asked to speak to you specifically."

"Who?" Joey repeats.

"Some woman, I guess. Her name is…" Nicky turns a page in her notebook and smacks her lips. "Um, Kisara Endo."

Joey sighs, washing down a long sip of coffee. "Alright, thanks, Nicky. You can let her in."

x

Kisara Endo turns out to be a small, slender woman in her mid-twenties, with straight white hair plaited into a braid down her back and dark-blue eyes smudged with charcoal-colored liner. She nods politely as Nicky ushers her into the office, extending her hand to Joey.

"Good morning, Mr. Wheeler," Kisara says. Her voice is surprisingly husky for a woman with such a small frame.

Joey stands up, pumps her hand firmly, then returns to his seat. "Alright...so what d'ya want from me, Miss Endo?" he asks, frowning. "You should know, I don't do much of the recordkeeping stuff. I do the forms online, I fill 'em out, that's it, really."

Kisara's wide-set eyes drift upwards, and she clicks her tongue thoughtfully. "It's not that, really," she says, leaning in. "Sorry. I'm in a bit of a predicament…."

"Hmm?" Joey's brow furrows with concern, and he tilts his head empathetically. "I'm not sure I follow."

A troubled look clouds Kisara's expression. "Can I talk to you off the record?" she asks.

"Of course." Joey nods encouragingly. "They sound-proof the social workers' walls, you know. For privacy, and everything."

Taking a deep breath, Kisara blurts out, "I need to ask you something about Seto Kaiba."


"You sure you're doing all right, bro?" The tablet screen displays a crystal-clear image of Mokuba Kaiba sitting in a dormitory room, curled up on the top bunk of a bunk bed.

Seto Kaiba sighs, interlacing his fingers and resting them under his chin. "You have to stop worrying, Mokuba," he says shortly. "We're handling it."

Mokuba's dark eyes narrow with concern. "I'm not talking about the company," he protests. "I mean, in five months, eleven children have disappeared from Domino's Childrens' Sanctuary." The look on the boy's face softens as he adds, "I know it's personal for you, Seto. This program was supposed to help enrich the lives of kids like us, but things are worse than ever." The corners of his mouth droop inexorably downwards, and he bites at his lower lip. "I'm sorry, bro."

"We're doing our best." Seto's words are matter-of-fact, and his curt tone does not invite further discussion. It is the same response he has given to the press in every statement. "We are investigating the standards of care at the Children's Sanctuary, but we stand by our Young Paladins foundation and the work they are doing for foster children in the Domino Community."

Knowing he is being shut out, Mokuba shakes his head, averting his eyes. "Okay. Best of luck, Seto."

"To you as well, Mokuba." He presses a button on the side of the tablet, and Mokuba's face disappears. Glaring at the blank screen for a moment longer, his eyes flick over towards the tiny camera embedded on the face of the screen, and in a moment of panic, he slams the tablet face down on the desk.

Checkmate. The words echo ominously in his mind. He can't talk to Mokuba about that...he can't put his little brother at risk, jeopardize his chance at a normal life, studying electrical engineering at a university thousands of miles away from Domino City. Memories of Mokuba's pale face, smeared with dirt and gaunt from hunger, with rounded and pitiful eyes staring up at him from a prison cell in Pegasus's castle flash before his eyes, and he slams his fist against the desk in a desperate attempt to make everything stop. The room feels unbearably cold. The bitter taste of bile creeps up his throat. He can feel his heartbeat, at first just a steady pulse that courses through his chest, then faster and faster and faster, faster, faster in his throat and stomach and forehead...


"What the hell?" The vitriol in Joey's voice makes Kisara jump.

She waits for a moment before speaking, wringing her hands in her lap. "It's just too much to be a coincidence," she says anxiously, tapping a wedge-heeled shoe against the floor. "Someone has been regularly wiring money to a bank account in Mr. Kaiba's name. I cross-referenced with his activity in the Children's Sanctuary database, and he is the one deleting all of those records." Her voice drops to a nervous whisper. "I can't add it up any other way. The only person who can establish a transfer line from the Young Paladins account is Mr. Kaiba himself."

Joey's hazel eyes are still wide with shock, and he fails to find words more quickly than Kisara. "The Kaiba Corporation went through a period of a few years of turmoil after power shifted hands from Mr. Gozaburo Kaiba, to Mr. Seto Kaiba," she explains. "A lot of the records have been heavily redacted. And I know that you know Mr. Kaiba himself, and I…" the woman's voice trails off, and tears glitter in the corners of her eyes. "And I really don't want to believe this, but..."

He shakes his head with such conviction that a lock of blond hair flies into his eyes. "That's not the Kaiba I know," he says. "Don't get me wrong, the Kaiba I know is a goddamn bastard, but not an orphan-smuggling goddamn bastard."

Kisara rubs one hand against her neck. "I don't know what to do, then," she confesses quietly. "There's something going on. If not with the Young Paladins, then here." Her gaze is intense enough to make Joey uncomfortable, and he looks away, staring blankly at the empty wastebasket next to his desk. "I've heard about you, Mr. Wheeler. About how you want to do good by these kids, and help keep them away from trouble on the streets."

Caught off-guard, Joey looks up finding himself staring into Kisara's dark blue eyes. "You're a good man, Mr. Wheeler. And you know Mr. Kaiba." Her lips purse momentarily before she continues, "Please. I need your help. I need your advice on what I'm supposed to do."


Seto sits alone in the corner of a local late-night diner. A stack of pancakes is growing cold in front of him; the scoop of whipped butter on top has melted into a sad puddle and congealed into a greasy mess. An untouched glass of water sits on a coaster, dripping with condensation from the long-melted ice that was poured into the glass.

He has been sitting here for hours. He is never one to idle in the presence of others, but today, the emotional cocktail of dread, guilt, and terror is too much to handle in solitude. From the corner of his eye, he watches a teenage boy accompanied by a much younger child-his sibling, he assumes, or maybe his cousin-scribble with crayons on a paper napkin, giggling to each other. His heart pangs with loneliness when he realizes how much he misses Mokuba.

I've failed him, he thinks miserably, paralyzed in his tensed, rigid position. Everything is over. He glances down at his phone, which lies on the table, but there has been no activity by the so-called Atem.

He can't take it any longer. Before he can talk himself out of it he reaches for his phone, furiously typing out a message:

What do you want from me?

He sets the phone down, his eyes still glued to the screen. A dim, high-pitched buzzing rings in his ears, drowning out the warm, gentle chatter in the diner with cold, grating noise. A text bubble appears at the bottom of the screen, and he finds himself holding his breath, his shoulders shaking with anticipation.

Atem: I WANT THE WORLD TO FINALLY SEE YOU FOR WHO YOU REALLY ARE.

Whoever 'Atem' is-the rational part of Seto's mind knows that it can't really be him-is still typing. Seto's mouth is as dry as paper as he madly scrambles to respond:

Don't you know who I am? I own half the city. This is your one warning. I am a very dangerous enemy.

Whatever message 'Atem' was about to send never materializes-the ellipses in their grey text bubble disappear from the corner of Seto's screen. He smirks, feeling a flicker of pride fight the frigid sensation of panic in his chest, and he locks his phone with a sense of triumph.

Ding. Ding. Ding. His victory, however, is short-lived; the sound of his messaging tone strikes fear in his heart, severing the last thread connecting him to the outside world. The diner and its' warm ambience, gentle chatter, and aroma of coffee and fresh bacon fade into darkness around him, leaving him trapped in the void with his phone and an unnamed menace who has assumed the identity of the man he respected the most.

One of the messages is a video. Although no preview is available, Seto knows better than to press play, knowing full well what the contents of the video will be.

Atem: I KNOW WHO YOU ARE, SETO KAIBA.

Atem: I OWN YOU.