Chapter 26: A God on the Run
The guy who walked into the Malakíes bar with a suitcase was probably heading into the back to speak with Kristos. That's where guys with suitcases always went. Nikos wasn't the sharpest tooth on the Blue-Eyes, but he had figured out the Malakíes was not an ordinary bar. The establishment boasted few drinking patrons. The real action happened in the back room where Kristos sat. A few times a day, a man—maybe many men—would come in to talk with Kristos. Every few days, he'd have to help carry a crate into or out of the bar.
Nikos wasn't sure of the contents of the crates. He always figured it was drugs, although many crates seemed really heavy to be filled with drugs. Nothing he couldn't handle with his limber musculature and freakish body strength. As long as he got free beer and never have to do any tough thinking beyond beating a rowdy customer with his bat, Nikos opted not to concern himself with the goings on of men with more money than he had.
In a past life, Kristos had been known as Vladimir Dmitrovitch—a Russian and former maintenance technician in a Soviet Army division whose mission was to protect and serve—translated as invade and occupy—the Soviet Socialist Republic of Skrzkstan. Owing to the inhospitable climate and barren environment, and also to the ludicrous bloodlust of the Skrzkstani citizens, Vladimir spent his time inside the barracks where all the Soviet soldiers spent their time getting as drunk as humanly possible. This was an area where Vladimir excelled because, as maintenance technician, he had access to metal drums full of solvents and chemicals that could, when imbibed, provide a real buzz in a person's brain… or possibly shut down the central nervous system entirely. The trick was knowing which chemicals were safe to consume and in what quantities. Developing considerable expertise in this field, Vladimir set himself up with a franchise, exchanging drink for money, cigarettes, pornography, et cetera. Word spread quickly that if a soldier needed something, Vladimir was the man to see.
One day a man came all the way from Moscow to see Vladimir. He wore nice clothes that actually fit and identified himself as a businessman, which Vladimir correctly translated to mean he was a criminal. The man's proposition was simple: He was willing to part with a suitcase full of American dollars, and all he wanted in return was a few machine guns, which, thanks to the work ethic of the soldiers stationed in Skrzkstan, were basically just lying around.
And so, Vladimir rose from bootlegger to arms dealer. The timing couldn't be more perfect as the Soviet Union began to implode and Moscow struggled to feed, let alone pay, its far-flung troops. Outposts in regions like Skrzkstan suffered from low morale and lack of discipline. With inventory controls melting faster than a marshmallow Peep in the microwave, Vladimir found with relative ease that any piece of equipment could be bought by exchanging American dollars.
When Vladimir's terms of enlistment expired, he left the army willingly, but not without maintaining his network of contacts throughout the increasingly chaotic military complex. Some travel abroad helped expand his connections until he soon found himself dealing with foreign governments, terrorist organizations, revolutionaries, religious leaders, and random nut jobs worldwide.
Before the turn of the century, with the Russian economy in shambles, Vladimir relocated to someplace a little more family-friendly, but with the same lax restrictions on the arms trade and general lack of concern with the wellbeing of one's neighbors. And Greece also accepted the multitude of American dollars he had accumulated. Much like the benefits offered by the Soviets, Vladimir found that one need only deal with the right people in order to import anything into the country—probably even human slaves. In particular, guns were easy. There was something internally satisfying about walking through airport security where surly personnel scrutinized the laptops of public accountants while, one level below all of it in the access tunnels, weapons big enough to raze a building moved past the system faster than a laxative through a cat.
Only two years of continued monetary gain and a network of connections reaching further than the address books of most foreign dignitaries passed when Vladimir was tapped for admission into a secret society.
The Hellfire Club was a name known only to the most paranoid of conspiracy theorists. Urban legends and internet hearsay told of aerial drones and bugged cellular relay stations that put control of the civilized world in the hands of the few rich and powerful men brought together by this unproven organization and its international patrons. If such an organization truly did exist, they would benefit from someone with connections in arms dealing; it would also be nice if the dealer had no qualms with ramifications for breaking international law.
A Russian man calling himself the Six of Diamonds introduced himself. Vladimir had little respect for choosing a nickname from a deck of playing cards, but the man carried himself well and also participated in the war. His charisma won over Vladimir in a single meeting. A grand part of his charm was money. Lots of it. Vladimir never much cared for reasons as long as whoever wanted the weapons gave him money. The better part of a year passed before the Six of Diamonds confessed to Vladimir his involvement with the mythical Hellfire Club.
The news had little effect on Vladimir's day-to-day routine. Added knowledge helped improve the flow of money into Vladimir's bank account, however. And the Diamond clan, based out of Moscow, provided the funds to build a front for Vladimir's merchandise. It was simple and yet fulfilled the fundamental rule of arms dealing was to draw as little attention as possible. Counterintuitive for a business, but true quality needed no advertising.
Vladimir enjoyed running a bar as his front organization. People could come and go at all hours without raising many questions, as long as he paid off a few local inspectors, plus there was something nostalgic about his life's work coming full circle to serving drinks again. The only downside to owning a bar was that, occasionally, some patron would enter and actually want to buy drinks. Vladimir did his best to keep that at a minimum by hiring a bartender who offered slow and inaccurate service. Nikos boasted a level of comprehension barely scraping the ability to put his shoes on, which is why he often came to work without any. Drinking customers were lucky if their drinks had even two of the same ingredients as their actual order.
Overall, locating in Eastern Europe was highly profitable for Vladimir, known by then as Kristos, and the Club remained his best customer by far—always in the market for the kinds of weapons that real armies fight real wars with. He neither knew what purpose such weapons served the Club nor cared. What he didn't appreciate was when the transaction reversed, and he was stuck buying whatever some member of the Club pawned on him. Oftentimes it was something that gave him a pit in his stomach—like no one should ever have something with that kind of power.
And so the Polish man who wandered into Malakíes with what appeared to be a high-tech suitcase made of some shiny, silver-colored metal lifted the lid to enable Kristos to view its contents. The inside of the case was lined with yellow, foam padding. Inside the padding was a steel cylinder with some kind of foreign writing and a host of electrical switches, looking a little like a garbage disposal.
"What the hell is that?" asked Kristos in fluent Russian.
"Bomb," said the man named Borkowski in stilted Russian.
"It looks like a garbage disposal," said Kristos.
"Is bomb."
"I have never seen its twin. How does it work?"
"Follow instructions." Borkowski pointed to the foreign writing.
"Is that supposed to be funny?"
"No."
"Who sent it?"
"Eldar."
If there was one thing Kristos knew for certain, it was that Eldar Vanko would never send him merchandise without alerting him first. Borkowski was strictly a bag man—not a messenger. Kristos knew him as one of the regulars at Malakíes making runs for one section of the Club or another. Kristos didn't understand the instructions of those above Borkowski, nor did he ask. But Borkowski was not a thinker. He never once made a delivery or a pickup without a flammable note card to indicate what he needed to do. On this particular visit, he read no such notes and instead appeared squirrely as if acting outside his usual orders.
"Vanko did not warn me of a delivery," Kristos repeated.
"Is busy man."
"His business is moving merchandise, which happens when buyers and sellers know what is available beforehand."
"He forget. You want call him?"
That offer was a trap. Of course Kristos wanted to confirm the merchandise with Eldar, but any member of the Club wishing to remain a free man would not take a phone call on such matters. The real question was whether Kristos was certain that Borkowski was there without permission. Perhaps he had stolen this device and planned to use the money to escape the Club. There was little evidence for or contrary to the suggestion with the exception of Borkowski's squirrely behavior.
"I will call." Kristos gambled on Borkowski letting the truth slip when frightened.
"Go. I wait." Bluff called. He was smarter than Kristos guessed. What to do next?
A sudden commotion in the front drew the attention of both men. Kristos took the opportunity to escape a no-win situation and entered the bar. Borkowski slammed the suitcase shut and followed close behind.
A man had barged into the bar. He had the appearance of a man who would spend his days in a bar. A sweat-stained tank top put on display his prominent gut, and he wore tattered jeans held up by a rope instead of a belt. The only visual more noticeable was the pantyhose mask stretching the features of his face out of proportion and distorting his appearance. He looked around in surprise for a moment as if second-guessing his decision, but then he waved a gun around at the three attendees inside Malakíes.
"Put your hands unnh!" He was hit in the rear when the entrance door opened a second time. The force of the door in his back caused him to stumble as a second man—thinner but just as unkempt and wearing similar pantyhose over his face—joined the invasion. Neither man looked familiar to Kristos, but there was a couple of guys Nikos scared off a few days prior. Maybe those guys really were stupid enough to attempt robbery at an establishment run by the Hellfire Club.
The fat robber snapped, "Watch it!"
"I can't see anything through this mask," said his partner. Both men spoke Greek. They weren't in the same league as the Club's lackeys. These two men were locals.
Once again, the gun pointed to the bar's inhabitants. "Put your hands up!" All hands went up. Better not to mess with a gun. The guy holding it relaxed a little bit. Kristos assumed the man had never experienced the power of being in charge of a situation before, and the gun put him in charge. Any man that pathetic was too dangerous to upset.
"Open the cash register," came the next command. Kristos nodded to Nikos. Nikos didn't notice. He continued to hold his hands up. Kristos almost felt disappointed in that moment to have hired exactly what he was looking for. He stepped around his senseless employee and, keeping his left hand in the air, pressed a button with his right hand so the register popped open. The fat man with the gun told his buddy, "Go put the money in the sack."
Walking with his arms extended like in Boris Karloff's The Mummy, the skinny guy wandered straight into the counter, letting out a painful sigh as he doubled over the bar.
"Get moving," said the gun man.
The bag man complained, "Next time I hold the gun."
He pulled the mask away from his face so that he could see the floor. That helped him walk around the bar to where he could see the cash drawer. "You're kidding me," he said.
"Take the big bills first," said the gun man.
"Which one?" asked the bag man.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean there are two bills in here, and they're both fives."
"What? There has to be more."
"Sure there is. Maybe three-fifty in coins." He held up the plastic grocery bag they had brought. "You still want me to put it in the sack?"
Thirteen dollars and fifty cents, even in euros, was pittance. The gun man looked to Kristos for an explanation.
"Business is very bad," said Kristos. It wasn't exactly a lie, as long as the drink business was the only business in question.
The gun man stared at Borkowski, sizing him up. Wearing that suit, hanging out in a bar that procured pitiful profits, he looked the part of a drug kingpin. Kristos was glad he dressed more casually for work. Maybe the gun man would take Borkowski hostage and get him out of the bar. That would solve both of Kristos's problems.
As if responding to the secret directive, the gun man stepped toward Borkowski. "Give me your watch," he said. Borkowski was reluctant, but he complied without issue. The gun man held the watch close to the pantyhose on his face. It glittered like real gold. Seemingly please, the gun man stuffed the watch into his pocket. For the first time, he seemed to notice the suitcase. Pointing with the gun, he asked, "What's in there?"
"Bomb," said Borkowski.
"Very funny. Open it."
Kristos couldn't help noticing how resistant Borkowski was to the idea. Whatever that device truly was, Borkowski's desperation to offload it faded with the idea of it going to some petty thugs. Survival instinct won out in the end. The gun man helped make the decision when he slapped Borkowski across the face with the barrel of his pistol. Taking each clasp slowly, Borkowski unlocked the suitcase and lifted the lid.
The gun man gave the contents a look more baffled than even he had. "What the hell is that?"
"Bomb," Borkowski repeated.
"It looks like a garbage disposal."
"Is bomb."
The gun man peered closely over the contents of the suitcase, as if the reason he couldn't identify it was that he didn't look closely enough.
"I don't like this," said the bag man.
"Shut up, Lex!"
The bag man gasped. "You used my real name!"
"Who cares?" He pointed into the suitcase while looking at Borkowski. "Open it."
"What?"
"You're lying about the bomb. I think you hid drugs in there. I want to see them."
Borkowski shook his head. "No drugs. Is bomb." He collapsed as the gun man hit him again. The suit was ruined with blood from his nose soaking into it, but then, it was better than being shot.
The gun man leaned in again. The item inside the suitcase drew him toward it. Kristos recognized that feeling, as well, though his instincts had compelled him to ignore the allure. He felt fearful of the device whereas the gun man appeared too excited to notice the darkness.
"I don't like this, Ajax," said Lex. He had the right idea He was much better attuned to the ominous air coming from that suitcase.
"I said shut up, Lex!"
Lex whined, "You used my name again!"
Shrugging, the gun man named Ajax said, "You used mine just now, too."
"Ajax is a nickname. It's not the same!"
"Who cares? It's the name I go by. They don't know who we are."
Actually, Kristos had a guess. There had been a couple of guys who came into Malakíes about three days ago. They started something with the only other drinking patron he'd seen that week, and so Nikos cracked them both on the skull with his aluminum baseball bat. Maybe this was the same pair returning for a bit of revenge. His whole world would return to a reasonable state if these two idiots would just take the suitcase and run.
"Open it," said Ajax. Kristos just rolled his eyes.
Borkowski played his only escape card: "Can't. I move product. No technical."
Ajax was finally sick of dealing with the increasingly useless and obstinate Borkowski. He reached into the suitcase and ran his fingers along the foreign writing, feeling the shapes of the engraved letters. His hand moved to the metal cylinder. The reaction was instantaneous: Lights on the cylinder turned bright red, and a ring of blue fire sprang around the bar. Ajax was consumed in an instant while Lex, Nikos, and Borkowski suffered longer before their bodies fed the flames.
Kristos attributed pure luck as the happenstance that kept him out of range of the fire. A mighty, strained roar filled the air and the fire spread. Kristos ran to the back, stuffed a brick of euros into his wallet, and plotted his escape route through the fire. The flames seemed to build a corridor leading toward the exit. As long as he moved his feet quickly enough, he wouldn't suffer too badly. What a time not to have a back door!
The first channel was wide open right in front of the bar. He covered his mouth and nose with his shirt sleeve and rushed forward just as blue fire billowed behind him. He turned past the stools and found himself trapped on all sides by more fire. The intensity of the heat grew with each passing second. Kristos could see no way out after all. As the flame licked his elbow, he only wondered which would be worse: suffocating or suffering from third-degree burns in the meantime.
From the corner of his eye, the flames ebbed like the drawing back of a curtain. Kristos thought to find an escape route, but the flaming walls only led him to Borkowski's suitcase. It lay open, yet the fire remained outside. The device inside that looked like a garbage disposal had opened. The panel on the side slid toward the top of the cylinder. Sitting inside was a Duel Monsters card.
Drawn by sheer curiosity, Kristos touched the card. In that instant, the blue fire expanded to the walls of the bar. The wooden structure ignited in a flash. The sudden eruption of heat opened a path for Kristos to get to the door. He blew outdoors and into a crowd of onlookers as smoke poured into the sky.
He was the only survivor. Kristos didn't need to answer that line of questioning. With the crowd awed by the appearance of blue fire, he took off toward the afternoon horizon.
In three weeks' time, Kristos and his card were present to cause six fires. Each one consumed the bodies of anyone present except the new cardholder. Every night he revisited the deaths in his dreams. Despite the horrors of his nightmares, Kristos could not bring himself to discard the deadly new object in his possession. Whether it was psychological compulsion or some cosmic bond, the two were inseparable.
Remaining in that small town was no longer an option. And the identity of Kristos had to disappear. Vladimir could come up with another later, as soon as he found a new place to restart his arms trade. Until then, he just had to lie low. He sought assistance from his longtime friend Biljana Joven. She agreed to meet with him at the airport lounge during her layover between business trips. He couldn't imagine a more pleasant sight than seeing her in a tight dress with a plunging neckline. Even at her age, she knew how to play up her curves.
But his situation was dire. The requisite small talk of their clandestine tryst passed quickly as he urged along the conversation toward the darkest rumors of the Club.
"Earthbound Immortal?" Biljana repeated.
"Yes."
She mulled over the name for a moment. "May I see this card?" Russian was not her first language, but she spoke it as if it were her only language. Many a business trip benefited from her multilingual capacity.
"I would rather not. When the card is exposed to open air, accidents ensue."
"Including the fires."
"All accidents are fires."
"This card has arsonist tendencies."
He frowned. "Do not tease me, Biljana. I wish to know how I can rid myself of this card."
The Eastern European escort offered her open hand, palm up. "Hand it to me. I will claim it."
"You know I cannot. For unknown reasons, I am compelled by the card." The expression on Biljana's face showed she was unimpressed. Despair settled in his heart as he realized even his oldest friend would not have a solution to offer. "I have tried to set fire to it, but it does not burn and instead it turns the fire blue like it is feeding. Even suicide is out of my reach. I do not wish it, and anyway the card preserves my survivalist instincts."
"Perhaps it is bound to you and you need only find its true possessor."
Vladimir made a face. "Where do you come up with that suggestion?"
"There is a rumor…" She trailed off, playing with the golden locket that dangled in her cleavage. It was her opportunity to see the gravity of the situation in Vladimir's eyes. Always he had lust for her, yet now with the opportunity to view her sexually directly in front of him, he watched only her eyes.
"What rumor?" he urged with desperation growing in his voice.
Satisfied that he was serious in his fear, she started. "Well, you know stories that say all souls are born from a collective consciousness and soon return when the body dies." He nodded. "Stories tell that many souls fear the collective consciousness and refuse their return upon death. Some pathetic nonsense about being forgotten. If such individuality were possible to preserve after death, then a soul does not ascend as intended."
"Like Hell," Vladimir answered. "I am in Hell with this card!"
"Beyond Heaven and Hell," Biljana explained, "there is a state for souls that fear death."
Vladimir watched her carefully. "What state?"
"Purgatorio."
He gasped. "Purgatory?"
"Yes. Souls trapped in purgatory experience neither the peace of Heaven nor the torment of Hell. They simply await a true fate to be spelled."
Vladimir's hand slid into his coat pocket and he fingered the case where he had trapped the arsonist card. "Why cards?"
"God Cards are alleged to be physical embodiments of the collective consciousness, as humans are but with larger portions and thus more power. Perhaps the souls of purgatory are given card form as part of the ascension to Earthly Paradise."
"How could such a place exist?"
Biljana shook her head, her curled locks bouncing like springs. "Paradise is unknown, even to rumor. But there is a rumor of the Ars Nova completed by a dropout of the Club."
Vladimir was beside himself in awe. "The Key of Solomon has been found?"
"No one knows of its whereabouts at present. But the Ars Nova progressively pushed the neglected souls toward their Earthly Paradise. Did you not hear of the awakened God of Apocalypse? He is also known cryptically in some legends as The Ultimate God. Perhaps the Ars Nova broke those seals which constrained him. Without a guardian, the creatures of Purgatory have breached our realm." She leaned in. "I suggest ridding yourself of such a burden as soon as possible."
"Simpler in plan than in action," replied Vladimir. With Biljana's flight boarding soon and his personal wish for a natural disaster to free him from his new fate before he killed anyone he cared for, Vladimir and his dear friend parted ways.
A new base of operations was in order. He had no real plan, and reaching out to the Hellfire Club directly felt risky. Borkowski had seemed scared to be transporting that card, plus he had acted as though the Club pursued him because of its theft. Biljana had not offered much of a solution, though perhaps he now knew what horror haunted his coat pocket. All alone, Vladimir found himself staring at the airport departure wall while airline patrons hurried to and from their flight gates. Maybe a useful destination would occur to him. How tough could it be to import weapons into South Florida? Two young boys seated at a nearby gate dueled one another. Their Duel Disks were turned off at their mother's behest, or perhaps by her threat. Men in suits as nice as his had once been strutted through the concourse, hoping to be noticed by an attractive flight attendant.
Vladimir found himself overcome with the feeling of being watched. Of course the airport provided a bit of foot traffic wandering around him on all sides, but as he spun to take a look, he spotted one young man who had been watching him from the same position for several minutes. The man looked to be college-aged. Definitely Greek. His olive complexion and slick, black hair signified that. The design of his jacket was familiar, though not enough to identify. Only familiar enough to know he'd seen it before.
Speaking in the broken Greek he knew, he asked, "Do you have problem?"
"You have a spooky aura," the young man replied, his Greek flawless. He obviously wasn't one to mince words or beat about the bush. "It reminds me of two years ago at Duel Academy."
"Oh? You are student of Duel Academy?" That's where Vladimir knew the jacket. It was the school uniform worn by that kid he had dueled against in the international Limitations Tournament at the Denkard Hotel and Casino more than two years earlier. "What is your name?"
"Darius," answered the young duelist.
"I am Vladimir Dmitrovitch. I met boy from school before. His name Matthew Luther. You know him?"
"Yes."
"I see." Vladimir wondered if perhaps the arson-addicted card in his possession wouldn't be better off at a school the people were better equipped to handle such auras. The only question was whether this guy was the right one to take it there. "You have duel deck?"
"Yes."
"Good." Vladimir withdrew from his suit coat a deck of cards. He did not carry around a Duel Disk, but he had seen two kids dueling each other earlier. He found them still going through their decks and trading cards. He paid them each a decent stipend to borrow a Duel Disk for the duration of a single duel, which translated as "filthy rich" to a ten-year-old.
"You want to duel?" asked Darius.
"I do. It may be only way to remove air about me."
The young student looked apprehensive for a moment. He offered a single nod and reached into his luggage for his own Duel Academy-issue Duel Disk. Vladimir offered Darius the first turn. The appearance of a Duel Academy student where he fought to rid himself of a frightening duel card… It was no coincidence. This encounter was kismet.
Darius began when he drew his opening hand. "I will activate Pot of Duality," he spoke. As the two-faced vase spun around on the field, Darius picked up three cards from his deck: Gravekeeper's Priestess, Mystical Space Typhoon, and Gravekeeper's Stele. "I will keep Gravekeeper's Stele." The other two cards returned to his deck where he shuffled all the cards again. "With a monster in my defense, I end my turn."
Vladimir 8000: Darius 8000.
Looking at the Earthbound Immortal present in his opening hand, Vladimir realized he wanted to lose this duel. Surely that was the best way to break his curse and remove from his grasp the Earthbound Immortal that wrought the fires of ruination in his path. But a sudden chill sent shivers throughout his being. What if losing the duel resulted in his death? It would logically follow that any failure by the dark god card might end in a sort of self-destruct function activating, setting fire to its current host.
"This stupid," Vladimir decided, realizing his folly. "Losing is no option. Please, let us end this duel now."
Darius was taken aback. "You wish to forfeit already?"
"No forfeit. Risk is too big. You forfeit."
"I will not forfeit against a card with that kind of power."
"I can't risk the card's defeat. You must be beaten. Cyber Dragon (5/2100/1600) and Mathematician (3/1500/500)." A metallic serpent sprang onto the field alongside a man whose age was apparent by his beard even longer than he was tall. Vladimir pulled Inzektor Hornet from his deck and dropped it in the Graveyard. "Cyber Dragon attacks."
The electric blast from the metallic dragon instantly fried the woman in the black cloak. "Gravekeeper's Spy (4/1200/2000) is vanquished," Darius confessed. An olive-skinned man wearing an identical cloak appeared in front of him. "Her Flip Effects can summon Gravekeeper's Recruiter (3/1200/1500) to my defense."
Vladimir nodded. "Set two cards. End turn."
Darius drew a card from his deck. "I will activate Terraforming." He searched his deck quickly for a Field Spell. Valley walls sprang from the ground, casting eerie shadows in the faint twilight of a setting sun. "Necrovalley," Darius explained.
"Mystical Space Typhoon," said Vladimir as he chained the card's activation. Lightning struck the vale and toppled the cliffs, removing the card and its effect.
The turn continued. "Instead I will remove Recruiter to summon Gravekeeper's Oracle (10/2000/1500)." A hulk of a man sat upon a stone throne before Darius. He carried with him a golden scepter with the head of a snake, and the faint images of the Egyptian Gods hovered in the air around him. Sending the Gravekeeper's Recruiter to the grave gave Darius the Gravekeeper's Commandant to his hand. But summoning the Oracle of the Egyptian Gods also brought their power. Vladimir had not realized when beginning that this student brought with him a semblance of the gods.
"Oracle activates one effect," Darius said. A red image shimmered in the air as Oracle blasted Vladimir's field with divine energy. "Your monsters will all lose 2000 attack and defense points." Sparks jolted from the Cyber Dragon's (-100/-0) body and the Mathematician (-0/-0) grew decrepit in the aftermath of the Oracle's godly attack.
"I will also discard Gravekeeper's Commandant so that I can draw and play another Necrovalley from my deck." As rocky crags again sprang from the ground, the two duelists found themselves once more in the confines of a deep gorge, this time without a typhoon to relieve it. "Necrovalley boosts Gravekeeper's power and protects Graveyards. For extra defense, I will play Magic Reflector." An insectoid machine appeared atop the valley cliffs. Powerful light beamed from the machine's projector and cast a protective barrier across the entire valley. With the energy to withstand a single attack, the Magic Reflector would protect Necrovalley should another typhoon hit.
"Now Oracle (+2500/+2000) will attack Mathematician (0)." The man revered as a conduit of the gods' will stood from his throne and thrust his snake staff into the face of the decrepit old man. The staff's head expelled a brilliant burst of light before the old man faded away.
Vladimir consoled himself of a large Life Point loss with Mathematician's effect—drawing a card when he went to the Graveyard.
"My turn ends," said Darius.
Vladimir 8000 – 2500 = 5500: Darius 8000.
"Cyber Dragon (0) to defense," Vladimir started. "Play also The First Monarch." A mammoth figure appeared before him, shrouded so by shadows that no visage was visible save for the general outline of its body. "I drop card and turn Monarch into dark-attribute Monarch. Now he is two Tributes for dark monster: Earthbound Immortal Uru (10/3000/3000)!" Blue flames suddenly ignited in the center of the field and spread rapidly, running along the outer edges of the gorge. Horror colored Vladimir's eye as he watched the fires race for the other airport patrons.
Yet the flames stopped short of consuming any of them. Aghast at the event, Vladimir peered through squinted eyes until he noticed the Magic Reflector set up by Darius. Its purpose was to protect the field from being destroyed by effects, but an unintended consequence was to withhold the fiery power of his horrific beast. He allowed himself a sigh of relief until the moment the Earthbound Immortal itself sprang forth. With eight legs, a segmented body, and eyes as plentiful as the red markings along its exterior, Uru towered over the field like a spider as tall as the concourse ceiling. The beast did not await a command but stampeded straight over the field to strike Darius directly.
Never had Vladimir seen such a sight. The explosive force of the attack was reminiscent of watching soldiers navigate minefields, yet within the bounds of a simple card game it felt much more traumatic. He felt surer than ever that his godly card needed to suffer defeat. But could this boy do it?
In that moment, Vladimir saw another way out. "I put Cyber Dragon to Graveyard." Suddenly Uru turned around and shot a wide spray of silky threads at Gravekeeper's Oracle. Using its heavy body as an anchor, Uru tugged on the web until Oracle had switched sides of the field. "I control your monster for turn. Now I overlay your card and mine to play this Skypalace Gangaridai (10/3400/3000)." The two powerful entities merged their energies into the form of a giant, floating fortress in the shape of two Hindenburg-class ships. "Xyz monster means I get rid of Uru. Effect activates then and destroys Necrovalley." All the ship's guns opened fire at the valley walls. Gunfire was deflected by the barrier cast by the Magic Reflector, but the device could no longer support the barrier. Necrovalley was left without defense. "Turn end."
Vladimir 5500: Darius 8000 – 3000 = 5000.
The student from Duel Academy gripped his chest after the attack Uru laid on him. He held the pose for too long to explain it as only pretend drama. If Uru truly did harm the boy, then it was a blight that was too powerful for any man to possess.
Darius recovered well and finally drew his next card. "I will set one card and summon Gravekeeper's Recruiter (3/+1700/+2000)." The same muscular monk bearing the black cloak of the Gravekeeper's tribe appeared on the field. "I will end my turn."
Understandable that Darius could not attack Skypalace (3400), but why leave his monster in attack position unless the hidden card was a Trap? "Skypalace drops other card to target face-down card." Gravekeeper's Oracle returned to Darius's Graveyard and the guns of the Skypalace loaded a second time.
"Imperial Tombs of Necrovalley," interrupted Darius with his card's activation. "I have a Gravekeeper and Necrovalley. The Imperial Tomb negates your effect and destroys the Skypalace Gangaridai." An ornately decorated sarcophagus could be seen within the walls of Necrovalley. Mystic energy rose from the box, and suddenly Skypalace destructed from its place in the sky.
Vladimir grumbled, but he felt refreshed. He had effectively removed the Earthbound Immortal from himself by sending it to the card graveyard. Now he could feel free to have a spirited dueling contest with this burgeoning student in front of him. "I use second Mystical Space Typhoon to destroy Necrovalley." For the second time, a maelstrom tossed bolts of lightning all around the Field Spell, shattering the rocky terrain and clearing the grounds. Gravekeeper's Recruiter (-1200/-1500) lost the power of the twilight.
"Now I use Fire Hand (4/1600/1000)." Odd as it sounds, the card on the field was a disembodied right arm, possibly a limb missing from a humanoid machine. "Attacks Recruiter." As the robotic arm reached, the reason for its name became apparent. A fiery apparition attacked in the shape of a right arm, incinerating the Recruiter on touch.
Recruiter's effect enabled Darius to move Gravekeeper's Heretic to his hand from the deck.
"Turn end," said Vladimir.
Vladimir 5500: Darius 5000 – 400 = 4600.
Darius drew and said, "I will play Gravekeeper's Heretic (4/1800/1500)." This card had the same olive skin tone as the other cards played so far by the Gravekeeper's deck, but he stood out as somehow not belonging to the group. It wasn't his white hair or the star-headed staff he carried; his cloak bore no religious hieroglyphics, an act of his heresy. "I will activate Gravekeeper's Stele." The heretic stood before an enormous monolith bearing the names of fallen Gravekeepers. Darius returned Spy and Recruiter from his Graveyard to his hand. "Heretic will attack." Wielding his staff with the same level of skill shown by the Oracle, the Heretic (1800) slammed the Fire Hand (1600). A similar, weaker spell cast from the staff and crushed the opponent within a shrinking containment bubble.
"Breaking Fire Hand also breaks your monster," Vladimir explained. Sure enough, the fire from the exploding robotic arm spread and consumed the Gravekeeper that destroyed it. "It also plays Ice Hand (4/1400/1600) from deck."
Darius nodded. "I will set one card."
Vladimir 5500 – 200 = 5300: Darius 4600.
As Vladimir drew, he felt himself struggle momentarily. He could not play new cards, but at least his opponent had no defense. "Ice Hand (1400) attacks." Following suit with the right hand earlier, this disembodied left hand reached out and formed an icy apparition for its attack. Frost chilled straight through Darius as he endured the attack. "Turn end."
Vladimir 5300: Darius 4600 – 1400 = 3200.
For his turn, Darius simply drew and set a monster face-down. "I will end my turn, as well."
Eyeing the monster suspiciously, Vladimir muttered, "Maybe is Gravekeeper's Spy." The problem if he were correct would be the exceptionally high defense points the Spy had. Playing it safe while he still had the lead, he opted to move Ice Hand (1600) to defense mode and set one additional card for defense.
Darius drew and acted more decisively this time. "I will activate Gravekeeper's Stele." Reading from the second monolith to tower on his field, he retrieved Gravekeeper's Commandant and Oracle from the Graveyard and returned them to his hand. "I will discard Commandant to move third Necrovalley to my hand, and then I play it." For the third time, towering bluffs cast shadows across the duelists in the twilight of the setting sun.
"You like card," Vladimir noted.
"It supports my deck, and so my deck supports it." Continuing his turn, Darius flipped his face-down monster, confirming Vladimir's earlier fear. "Flipping Gravekeeper's Spy (4/+1700/+2500) summons Gravekeeper's Shaman (4/+2000/+2600)." The olive-skinned woman first appeared on the field draped in the Gravekeeper's cloak, bearing the hieroglyphics of the tribe. She led behind her a blind woman wearing white lace adorned in gold. Her headdress bore the Eye of Wedjet, giving her sight into the spiritual world from which she drew an extra 200 defense points for each of her fallen tribe members. "I will now offer Spy as Tribute to summon Gravekeeper's Oracle (10/+2900/+2000)." After resetting his throne and indulging in the reverence of communing with the gods, Oracle's body shone with a golden light. "Attack power rises by Spy's level times 100, plus Shaman (2000/+2800) gains more strength.
"I will have Shaman (2000) attack your Ice Hand (1600)." The blind priestess channeled the brilliant light of the spiritual world straight into the icy arm obliterating it from a safe distance and containing the destructive effect it carried. "I will now have Oracle (2900) attack directly." The built man swung his staff and struck Vladimir with an attack bearing all the heat of the noonday sun.
When the attack ended, Darius said, "I will end my turn."
Vladimir 5300 – 2900 = 2400: Darius 3200.
A Russian arms dealer suffering so much at the hands of a child? Vladimir couldn't resist the frustration he felt. Yes, perhaps in the beginning he wished for this young duelist to defeat him and rid him of the Earthbound Immortal's blight, but to be in the situation roused his competitive spirit. He could not sit idly while he lost a match! Plus, there was still the chance that losing would trap his soul in the Purgatory whence Uru came.
"I use Allure of Darkness and banish Armageddon Knight to keep two cards. One monster defense, one other set card." Although anti-climactic in the moment, Vladimir felt more confident. The feeling were as if a rush of energy were flowing between him and his deck. The two were in synch. They were becoming one. No way a child could beat that.
Darius did not appear to notice Vladimir's newfound power. He simply played the game as usual. "I will summon Gravekeeper's Descendant (4/+2000/+700)," another man wearing the same tribe cloak and carrying with him a staff identical to the one carried by the Oracle. The resemblance between the two was uncanny. "Descendant's effect will use Shaman to destroy your face-down card."
"Unless I use it," Vladimir objected. Three women wearing turquoise robes appeared around his field, guarding it from the opposing field. "Waboku protects my field."
"I understand. Nonetheless, Oracle (2900) will attack." When his powerful Gravekeeper struck, the three women generated a protective field around the attack target. A man wearing a skintight, black jumpsuit capped with a red chest piece and helmet appeared on the field. Four oval-shaped wings sprouted from his back. "Now, I can see your monster is Inzektor Dragonfly (3/1000/1800)." When the attack ended, so did his turn.
Kid's good at this, thought Vladimir to himself. He drew and concluded, But so am I. "For third time, Mystical Space Typhoon to Necrovalley." The sky turned black as the tumult reappeared and struck the field, tumbling the walls of the sunset valley for the third time in the duel. "Now I take Inzektor Dragonfly's effect and put Inzektor Hornet from Graveyard on him." Another man dressed in a black jumpsuit but with yellow armor appeared beside his red counterpart. "Now I use Hornet to destroy Oracle (-2400)." By removing the Hornet which was just equipped to Dragonfly, he prompted the yellow flyer to buzz across the field and jam his hefty, pointed battering ram into the mighty Gravekeeper's Oracle. The sting was sharp and fierce and carried the Oracle straight to the card Graveyard.
"Dragonfly effect also goes. Equip card went to grave, so he plays Inzektor Centipede (3/1600/1200) from deck." His new card was a bulky man wearing purple armor, including clawed gauntlets wide enough to be shields on each forearm. "He also equips Hornet," Vladimir explained as the yellow-armored man reappeared, "and will discard again to destroy Descendant (-1500)." Once more, the yellow man buzzed the field and jammed his battering ram through the body of the younger Descendant, who suffered the same fate as his older counterpart had. "His effect is when card discarded to take Inzektor from deck. I take another Centipede to hand. Now Dragonfly (1000) to attack and Centipede, too." Dragonfly aimed his crossbow and fired a relentless quarrel straight through Darius's heart. Close behind, Centipede bounded across the field and slammed both clawed fists in a devastating assault.
With a smile on his face, Vladimir said, "Turn end."
Vladimir 2400: Darius 3200 – 1000 – 1600 = 600.
"New card," Darius announced just before activating it. "Raigeki." A commanding series of lightning bolts pummeled Vladimir's field without pause, not relenting until both Inzektors were turned to ash.
"No!" Vladimir objected. "Kid like you has such rare card?"
"I only awaited a chance to play it," Darius confessed. All duelists were well aware of Raigeki's devastating power, and that such power was deemed too much for casual or competitive play. It was among the first cards to achieve the Kaiba Corp. Banned Cards List. Only that week was it removed from the list, likely for a very limited time.
With the field clear, Darius avoided a direct attack and set a monster instead. "I will activate Reckless Greed," said Darius. Just like that, the kid was granted the opportunity to draw two new cards. Sure, they came with a risk as he would skip his next two Draw Phases, but he might not need them since Vladimir's field was empty! "I will set one card and end my turn."
Vladimir shook his head, hoping to shake the disbelief from his game. "I use Inzektor Centipede (3/1600/1200)."
"I will play the card Fiendish Chain," said Darius. A series of chains emanating dark energy shot across the field in sharp angles. They didn't bind Centipede directly, but the position of the array left him without free movement, and they blocked access to the Graveyard. "No Hornet effect then," he decided. "Turn end."
Vladimir felt reassured in his chances. Darius took in a deep breath as he skipped his turn. "I will flip Gravekeeper's Spy (4/1200/2000) and special summon Gravekeeper's Descendant (4/1500/1200)." As soon as his two cloaked Gravekeepers took the field, Vladimir sprang his Trap.
"I use Escalation of Monarchs so play Kuraz, Light Monarch (6/2400/1000)." Centipede disappeared as a Tribute offered to summon a behemoth of a man clad from head to toe in radiant, golden armor. As the light gained luminance, it also gained heat until the two Gravekeepers were unable to withstand it. The disappeared within the light. "Kuraz destroys two monsters."
But that effect also gave Darius a slim hope of retaliation. For each card Vladimir's monster destroyed, his opponent could draw a new one. "I will set both a monster and another card face-down. My turn ends here."
"Duel is taking too long," Vladimir bemoaned. "Kuraz (2400) attacks."
"Kuraz is stopped by Fiendish Chain," Darius argued. For the second time, a maze of magical chains bound one of Vladimir's monsters in place and froze his power.
"End turn," said Vladimir, sulking.
Darius's hand went nowhere near his deck at first. "My draw turn is skipped again. I will send away Gravekeeper's Recruiter to summon Gravekeeper's Visionary (8/2000/1800)." With Recruiter's parting effect, Darius retrieved another Gravekeeper's Heretic from his deck while a new monster ascended the stone throne. Adorned in the colors of the Gravekeeper's tribe, yet armed with broad pauldrons over his shoulders and a mask of the jackal over his face, Darius's most powerful Gravekeeper yet was a bearded man bearing the same snake staff carried by so many of the tribe's high-ranking leaders. "Visionary (+4000) will gain 200 points for each fallen Gravekeeper." Attuned perfectly to the spiritual energy left behind by all Gravekeepers in the card Graveyard, the Visionary launched a potent spell with his staff. Kuraz (2400) was helpless to fight back as his armor crumpled around his body until it was too small to hold any power.
"My turn ends."
Vladimir 2400 – 1600 = 800: Darius 600.
Excitement tingled in Vladimir's fingers as he felt a plan of attack fall into place. "One card goes face-down, and Mystic Plasma Zone comes in." The sky turned black as a demonic aura covered the landscape of the airport concourse. A few fidgety parents assuaged their children, who experienced more fright in the dark than in the earlier twilight.
That's right, he silently taunted his young opponent. His face did not belie the adulation he felt for his little ruse. No monsters. Wage your attack. Do it!
Darius drew a card and simply skipped straight to his Battle Phase. Gravekeeper's Visionary (+4500/-1400) cast a duplicate spell from the previous turn, but the sudden appearance of blue flames blocked the Visionary's target and dispersed the spell's energy. A gargantuan spider marked by red all over stood tall and shrieked a hideous cry as it rose from the Graveyard.
The card Call of the Haunted had given Vladimir the power to call his Earthbound Immortal Uru (10/+3500/-2600) back from the Graveyard, thriving in the darkness wrought by the Mystic Plasma Zone. Yes, this kind of power would guarantee him the victory he desired in this duel. No child would defeat Vladimir again.
"That card again," Darius uttered. The boy was in shock. He should be.
"Uru is caught between worlds," Vladimir described poorly. "Not exist here, and not without power. It direct attacks but can't be counterattacked." He was finding it difficult to gloat with his broken Greek. For the first time, he wished he had tried harder to learn language fluency. He did live in the country, after all, even if most of his dealings were with Russian or American criminals in search of efficient killing power.
The boy seemed to understand the point, though. He was flabbergasted by the overwhelming pressure exerted by Uru's presence. If not for the Gravekeeper's Visionary and his tremendous counter-pressure, the bystanders would surely be caught up in the flame. That rang familiar with Vladimir—like perhaps the fire was significant to him—but whatever it was eluded his consciousness. Uru was dangerous for the opponent because it gave Vladimir power. How could he leave that power untapped?
Hesitation entered Darius's voice. "I will set a monster and card."
Vladimir finally let his poker face slip. "Uru (3500) attacks!" The spider scuttled across the floor, eliciting screams from children and adults alike in its lifelike resemblance to a real spider. Its sharp claws thrust out toward Darius only to be rejected by the sudden appearance of a spiritual shield generated by three women wearing green robes. "Waboku again?"
"Yes," Darius affirmed. "That is my card. It protects me this time."
"Temporary defense," Vladimir corrected him. "One card face-down. Turn ends."
Darius bore a look of worry on his face as he drew. I will give him more to worry about, thought Vladimir. "I use Compulsory Evacuation Device." An ejector with explosive force thrust the monster from Darius's field and back into his hand. "Now you have no defense."
"I will play Allure of Darkness." The shadow energy on the field surrounded Darius and his deck. He combined with his hand two cards from the deck and then channeled the darkness into Gravekeeper's Heretic to be banished. "My card and a monster are set. I will end my turn."
"Then I will end duel!" Vladimir boasted. "Uru (3500) attacks!" Leaping past the monster guarding Darius's field, the colossal spider threatened to body slam the entire width of the field, Vladimir included. The shadow grew wider until the very last moment when up popped a small frame thrown together from spare pieces of scrap metal. As defense goes, the makeshift scarecrow lacked intimidation. A god would crush it like a bug.
But the Scrap-Iron Scarecrow was not destroyed. Its tiny frame was firm and held indestructible, even under the weight of the largest arachnid Vladimir had ever seen. Even the intensity of the blue flames could not scorch its sturdy form.
Vladimir felt overcome with exasperation. Will this duel never end? What good is the power of a god that cannot end the life of a single, unimpressive student?!
Vladimir 800: Darius 600.
"It is my turn," Darius announced. He drew his card and took in a deep breath. The darkness was having less effect on him. The boundless energy of the Earthbound Immortal Uru did little to quell his inner strength. How could a mere boy stand against such force? And to extend that strength as protection for the onlookers? Preposterous!
"I will flip my Gravekeeper's Spy (4/+1700/-1600) and use her effect to summon Gravekeeper's Assailant (4/+1900/-1100)." The woman with the cloak of the Gravekeeper tribe revealed that she had hidden in the darkness for a while, and she had used her stealth techniques to hide with her a man who bore the same cloak but also masked his face. "These two together form an overlay network to Xyz summon Gagaga Cowboy (4/1500/2400)." An enigma of a man stepped forward, shrouded in a red cape with frayed edges. His face was obscured by a brown Stetson pulled down past his brow.
"Monster can't attack!" Vladimir laughed. This whole scenario was ludicrous. What did the boy think would happen here? That he would actually manage to defeat a god strong enough to resist even the Shadow Realm?
"My monster is in defense mode," Darius clarified. Sure enough, his Cowboy crouched low with the cape fully wrapped around him as if hoping not to be noticed. "I activate his effect by detaching an Xyz material. He will deal 800 points of damage directly to you." Gagaga Cowboy slipped open his cape just enough to reveal the barrel of a six-shooter, fire off two shots, and hide the pistol again. Both shots sailed past Uru and struck Vladimir straight in the chest.
Vladimir 800 – 800 = 0: Darius 600.
The card may have been a hologram, but Vladimir reacted as if truly struck. His chest clenched as nerve pain strung tightly through his left arm. The ground caught him as he felt back, wondering, Why did this happen? Wasn't I supposed to leave that beast in the grave? It convinced me to take its power. Perhaps I should have embraced it sooner. Or maybe now it is in better hands.
Look luck, Duel Academy student.
With that thought, Vladimir felt himself drift into the darkness.
Once again, thanks go to my buddy Howard for providing me with the script for this duel. It made my part of the task much easier. This time of year is crazy busy and difficult to find as much time to write as before. But whether you write five words or five thousand words, what's important is you write. I hope all of you burgeoning writers keep that in mind through this busy season.
The next chapter will finally see the reappearance of an Egyptian God Card. Let's hope whoever winds up dueling against that is ready for it!
Trivia: Check the chapter heading again. You'll see it.