Author's Rant: Please, please, please forgive the mistakes. I'm dog sick.

Warnings: Character Deaths. Mildly graphic.

News: XHowlingwolfx volunteered her wonderful talent to draw the scene between Heba and Yami when he was shot. Please take a look whenever you get the time. The link is provided on my profile.

The Beginning of the End

"—so I says to 'em, bring it 'cause I won't care if your mama there, your grandmamma, innocent bystanders, little kids, babysitter, bill collectors, whatever. I'll leave your own block filled with hot brass if I have to and you know why? Because I don't give a fuck!" Joey cracked up, watching Tristan burst into a fit of laughter. "And he still gets pissed 'cause I wasn't gonna pay him for the pool game he lost, but for real man, who the hell did he think he was trying to scare? Can't frighten off somebody when all you ever wear is red pajamas and house shoes. The fuck outta here with that." Leaning back on his hands, Joey continued watching his companion chuckle, shoulders bouncing with mirth.

Swiping the corner of his eye, Tristan shook his head struggling to speak. "You, you guys are clowns. I can't believe you go through this every day!"

Joey mocked a snort, tossing back his half-empty Bud Lite. "Try every damn hour. I gotta deal with these fools every second of every minute."

After school let out, Joey had brought Tristan home earlier. He left soon after to go handle personal business, but vowed to return just so the two could hang out tonight. That turned into two more nights of simply lingering on the outside of Tristan's house, sitting on his porch, listening to Joey's crazy encounters and adventures with his gang family. They'd sit for hours, exchanging small stories, but Joey did most of the talking and Tristan kind of liked hearing how animated the blond got when he started telling these hilarious tales.

The weekend rolled around, a nice Friday evening, humid and quiet. Tristan sat on the top step, rolling a beer can between his hands, condensation damping his palms. He was wearing a pair of his school senior sweats and matching tie-die senior shirt for the '14 graduation year.

Joey stood on the other side, perched against the wooden beam, left leg cocked up, eyes focused on the starry sky, beer bottle nestled in his hand. He didn't come as finely dressed as he used too. He'd gotten more comfortable being around Tristan, the brunet noticed. He was dressed in a simple red Urban Legend wife beater, slightly snug black Levi jeans and high top Timberland Boots with a Chicago Bulls snap back twisted to the side. His greasy blond hair sprayed from beneath the cap like a scarecrow.

Neither spoke for a long time. The silence was just as relaxing as the conversation had been. Tristan smacked his bare feet on the wooden stair, thinking to himself and sadly, allowing his brain to take him back to his and Yugi's last encounter. He couldn't believe his best friend confessed to something so dangerous. Being in love with both the gang leaders? The poor kid was begging for heartbreak. Of course, Tristan didn't doubt that the two men probably had some kind of attachment to Yugi, but love? Not a chance in hell.

Joey gagged on purpose to get Tristan out of whatever funk he was in. Tristan looked at him at first worried, then chuckled at the blond's annoyed sneer. "Sorry, what?"

"Didn't say anything," Joey shoved off the beam and two steps lower than Tristan. He took a quick swig of his beer, wiping the extra wetness from his lips with his wrist. "What's got your head a million miles away from here."

Tristan rolled his eyes to the ground, picking off the tiny rocks and grass blades on the sidewalk. "A little of everything. Graduation, my friends, my recruitment, college, shit, my whole damn life pretty much. Just trying to figure out where it's all going."

"What's that like?"

"Confusing as hell. I hate it. It'd be easier just to stay home and work."

"Nah, don't do that." Joey rolled the bottle between his hands similar to Tristan, frowning at the brown glass like he spotted a spider inside. "You've got your own life ahead of ya. Keep your options open. Hell, be glad you got a bunch of options to choose from. Some of us weren't that lucky."

"I don't believe that," Tristan retorted and Joey did look at him with the kind of bewildered confusion that demanded he explain. "Everyone has a choice on how they get to live their lives. It's their own fault if they decide to take the wrong path."

"Not when other paths are closed off to 'em. Believe me kid, if I had another road to ride along, I'd go in a heartbeat. But this is the kind of life I gotta travel until the day I die."

Tristan shot him a single, intense look mixed with disagreement and pity. Joey could do without the latter, and climbed to his feet to move away from those dark brown eyes before they made him confess his entire life story. Unfortunately, Tristan stood up too, and threw his beer can across the street, smashing against the brick wall of an alley way and ricocheting into a trash can. Joey eyed the shot, impressed.

"Not bad."

"It's the only good thing my Dad gave me." Tristan commented dully before retaking his seat on the porch step.

Joey sat next to him this time, putting his bottle next to his foot. "Doesn't sound like the kind of guy ta' get Father of the Year."

"No, he's more of the get-out-while-the-kid's-too-young-to-remember-and-your-mom-has-to-work-so-much-you-don't-even-get-to-see-her kind of father."

"Oh . . . sorry kid."

"What for? I've been over it." Tristan shrugged indifferently. " 'Sides, my mom's been doin' just fine on her own. No help from any man, no help from welfare, nada. I didn't give her too much of a hard time as a kid, or now." He added in at hearing Joey's light chuckle. Tristan shouldered him playfully and felt the nudge back. "Anyway, I think I do owe it to her to get her outta this crummy city. Buy her a big house, a nice car and a flat screen TV so she can kick back, watch all those soap operas and eat as many honey buns as she wants."

"That'd sound like the life." Joey stretched out on the creaking porch, basking in the moist, dank evening, leaning up on his elbow to stare out at the main street as strangers and vehicles went on to whatever destination they aimed for. He closed his eyes for a while, simply to take in the prolonged stillness, thinking.

Tristan let his eyes travel from the close-eyed expression, strings of honey gold hairs swinging across a high cheekbones and a crooked smirk. He'd never realized just how long Joey's hair really was, sweeping from beneath the snapback like thick cotton. Still Tristan's eyes went on taking in the crinkled wife beater that did very little to disguise the lithe, athletic build and streaks of street ink protruding in every direction. His gaze rested on the position of Joey's incredibly long legs, falsely coming off as being longer than they really were because of the baggy jeans having slipped down his hips from all the adjusting to get comfortable.

A slither of light tan skin peeked where his shirt rode up and his jeans separated, also granting a view of grey Fruit of the Loom briefs. Joey looked to be lean all over, his arms being firm, sculpted proof, products of fighting all his life and casual weight lifting. Tristan couldn't help thinking how the blond would make would hell of a pitcher with biceps that thick. His thighs weren't massive, but thick enough to resemble small tree trunks. Then there were his feet, huge and long, planted firmly on the last step.

"Ya good kid?"

Tristan invisibly jolted in surprise at Joey's amused tone and where his mind was dangerously leaning towards. "Yeah, yeah. I'm cool."

"Right." Joey's chuckle said he knew exactly what Tristan had been doing and he was welcome to keep on doing it. He sat up, grinning mischievously. The almost lecherous gleam in his eyes set Tristan's cheeks aflame.

Joey knew he was taking a risk, one he could blame on the three bottles of booze he downed earlier, but it was one worth trying. He scooted closer, sliding his butt carefully along the edge, mindful not to get a splinter in his ass. They touched from time to time, but it was always playful. Never had it gone to being intimate.

Little by little, he inched over; gratified that he hadn't been told to back away. "So. . ." he started in a very low, very cool voice, boldly letting his fingers toil with the end of Tristan's senior shirt, "what were you starin' at, hm?" he pretended to flick away some lint and went back to teasing the shirt line.

Tristan kept looking in the other direction neither liking nor disliking the way Joey's admissions seemed to make this thick, hot feeling boil in his stomach. "I-I wasn't starin' at anything."

"Liar. I saw you."

That made the feeling twice as heavy. Joey's tone went several octaves deeper and the tips of his fingers were skimming the seam of Tristan's sweatpants. Uneven, small breaths escaped Tristan's dry lips, which he quickly moistened and squirmed to loosen the tightness developing in his crotch.

This was insane. Weeks ago, he never would have considered himself attracted to any man and hell; he could say he still wasn't. Maybe . . . maybe it was just Joey he was attracted to, if he was willing to admit it to himself.

The scent of alcohol suddenly assaulted Tristan's nostrils, twice as potent as an open bottle and that was because it was from Joey. The same Joey who leaned in more and tenderly rubbed his lips over the cloth surface of Tristan's shoulder. Tristan gulped, frozen stiff as Joey added pressure to his lips and a heated flare like wet fire jolted straight to Tristan's chest. The sudden grip on his hip suddenly drew Tristan's eyes around to find Joey looking at him, with such fierce fire, Tristan could have combusted on the spot.

The fingers crawled up Tristan's side like spider legs, leaving a tingling sensation as they ventured up and paused to caress Tristan's ribs through his shirt.

"What are you doin'?" he whispered, shamefully breathless and mildly intrigued.

"Touching you," Joey said in a simple whisper, nuzzling his pointy nose into Tristan's shoulder and working its way up to the side of his neck. "You want me to stop?"

Tristan resisted the urge to enclose his shoulder and chin to reduce the shockwaves traveling up his spine where Joey's lips left hot trails under his ear. This feeling was new, different, and if Tristan dared believe, almost stimulating.

"You want me to stop?" Joey repeated lowly, heatedly.

Tristan chewed on his bottom lip and closed his eyes, not answering. His hands were left handing lifelessly between his thighs, while Joey's made handy work of his hands, the left massaging a liquid fire in Tristan's side and the right steadily creeping up Tristan's thigh. He bit back a low moan and sighed.

Then Tristan noticed his upper body reclining backwards and anxiety gripping him from the inside out. His eyes shot open in time to see the view of the street disappearing and the root of the porch replacing it. His head was cushioned on something soft and then Tristan saw Joey's face come from the side, a smile like gentle sunshine peering down at him.

Gradually the space evaporated between them, shortening more. Tristan's heart pounded in his ears, blood rushing to his brain as Joey's face came within centimeters of his. There was an extra sheen to those sharp brown eyes, polished full of lust and molten maple sweetness that stole Tristan's ability to speak.

"You want me to stop?"

Tristan felt and tasted the beer-flavored words against his lips and the slow smile stretching over Joey's mouth and the fanning warm breath filling his nose. Joey smelted of everything, reality, a street rouge, beer, smoke and him, overall. Tristan's hand rose of its own accord, shaking with underlined emotions too fucked up to define, and landed on the back of Joey's head, pushing the snapback off. His fingers treaded themselves in the mass of slightly course, thick blond hair. Joey's eyes hooded, a low purr erupting in his throat.

"No," Tristan murmured and brought their lips together.

It was a lazy, listless beginning where neither rushed the connection. Joey moved in, turning to angle his head so that he could taste all of Tristan, delicately flicking his tongue in for a sample and withdrawing to trace the brunet's plump lips. Slick and warm like hot oil, Tristan gave as much as he received, fingers curling enticingly tight in Joey's hair and sighing wantonly. His hips buckled a tiny bit where Joey's hand squeezed his thigh.

The kiss, brief and delicious, came to a shortened close, Joey lingering for one moment to tug Tristan's bottom lip between his teeth before letting it retract back.

Joey backed off, eyes half-lidded, licking his lips as if Tristan's taste was strong and addictive. "Shit," he murmured. "Kid, you have no idea how long I've waited a taste of you." His hand came down and cupped Tristan's cup, thumb tracing over the swelled lips he was determined to kiss a second time if it weren't the sudden buzzing in his pocket. He groaned in the back of his throat, cursing whomever it was that had the nerve to call him at a time like this.

He considered letting it ring and steering Tristan's head in for another session until the brunet turned his head to the side, missing Joey's lips entirely. "You might wanna get that."

"It can wait."

"No, it can't." Tristan looked at Joey out of the corner of his eyes and smirked. "We got plenty of time to get back to what we were doin'."

At that bit of reassurance, Joey pressed a quick kiss to Tristan's cheek and rolled off of him to retrieve his phone. Joey jogged a few feet from the porch to get some privacy and pressed the answer button without checking the screen, because even the O.G. wasn't exempt from being cussed out occasionally

"Yeah!" He roughly answered.

"Where the hell are you, Mutt?" Seto's voice venomously shouted over the receiver.

"Fuck you, I'm busy!" He snapped back. "Don't come at me with any bullshit, Slim. This ain't the time."

"Then make time. We got business in West Domino."

"No I don't. I already did my rotation watch."

"This isn't about rotation, Mutt! Everyone's coming in for roll call. Every-one."

A dark frown etched deep into Joey's brow. "That serious huh?"

"Yeah, that serious. Come strapped and whoever's making you late, I suggest you keep them out of the way. There's some creepers lurking around the houses, patrolling like they're the police. O thinks they're the people."

"No blue bloods?"

"Nope, they're on high alert just like us. O' says we don't target them and they won't target us. Some bullshit ass truce between him and their Atem he neglected to tell us about."

"Right," Joey sighed, annoyed and mentally preparing himself for the approaching danger. "I'll see ya in ten." He hung up, mind driving in five different directions, but one thought shined more than the others. Joey pivoted on his foot and started walking toward Tristan who had this far off look on his face, as if he were bracing himself for instant rejection or something worst. "Listen—"

"You gotta go, I know," Tristan cut in, pushing up to his feet. "This was fun and all, but—"

Joey roughly cupped his hand over Tristan's mouth. "Shut up. You ain't getting' rid of me and I'm not givin' up on you, all right? Yeah, I gotta go, big whoop. I'm comin' back. Wait for me, can you do that?"

Tristan peeled Joey's hand down, frowning hard. "Joey—"

"Are you gonna wait for me or not?"

Tristan pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, shoulders quaking. He rolled his eyes to the side before crossing his arms over his chest. "Yeah, I'll wait."

Satisfied with the answer, Joey climbed up to Tristan's level, kissed him, lingering to stick his tongue in, swipe around, and hold Tristan's hand during the connection. He pulled away, squeezing his hand as he climbed down the stairs. "I'm coming back, kid. I promise. You said we could finish up what were doin', didn't ya? I want a lil' more when I come back."

Tristan's smiled. "That's right, so ya better hurry up before I change my mind."

"Boy, please. You know want me."

Tristan let his hand stretch out as far as his and Joey's arms reached until the distance separated him. With a two-finger salute, Joey jogged off to his car parked across the street and peeled off into traffic. Tristan walked to the edge of his yard, watching the car disappear down the street, unable to erase this foreboding sense of dread in his chest.

Thick plums of grey smoke disbursed in the confines of a dark colored vehicle parked several yards down the street, gradually drifting the Purp essence out the cracked window. It was slowly approaching midnight, exactly thirty-six hours away from when it was time to strike. For two days the dark hooded eyes, dull with drunken delight, kept a diligent watch over the five brick houses under surveillance.

"Hit 'em Up" by Tupac drummed from the loud speakers in the back, putting the Supreme in a further state of ease. He checked his phone for what he would deem the final time after not hearing word from Zigfried in two days. The plan was pretty much a done deal. As far as the Supreme was concerned he was running the show now—but it wasn't like he hadn't been from the beginning anyway. Zigfried was nothing but a paycheck.

As the tunes flowed smooth as oil in his eardrums, the Supreme gazed up the street light illustrious neighborhood. The peace and quiet was so ironically comforting, he sinisterly thought with a deep chuckle. Thirty-seven brick houses were built in this suburban daydream, but to the untrained eye, you would think these houses belonged to the typical American Dreamers.

Not likely. The entire set was nothing but a cleverly disguised stash of vacation homes. Only five of them were currently occupied. However, the main one he had his focus on was the pretty little brick structure right there. Yeah, the one with the slanted eyes peeking out the window blinds at him. Cute. That's very cute. They know he's here. They know he's been sitting here for a few days, waiting on them to make a move.

And he was ready.

If Atem so much as stuck his toe out that door, he had an arsenal with his name on it, waiting for him.

The curtains flipped back, fluttering. One peeked from the top and a second, a little lower. Readjusting himself, the Supreme took a slow drag of his blunt, twisting the wet nub between his fingers, thinking of playing with the little spies when his cell phone started lighting on the dashboard.

The screen flashed unknown. Oh? Now that's real cute.

Typically, he wasn't the kind of gentleman to play around with children, but seeing as he was in the mood to be entertained, why not?

"Yeah," he answered with mock surprise.

A short pause and low breathing was all the Supreme heard before an all too familiar voice came over the receiver. "Where are you?"

Several clicks pitched on and off. The Supreme smirked. "Let's say I decide to answer that question for free, the next one won't be. So choose wisely, what question do you really want to know?"

The proper question came in a heartbeat. "Why?"

The Supreme reclined in his chair, blunt snugly tucked in the corner of his mouth. "Revenge, money, closure, contract, feel free to pick whichever will clear your conscience."

"You'll gain nothing from murdering children with no sort of gain. The city's life is hanging on a thin thread, one even too thin for you to use to climb free. Say you succeed? I assume you're prepared to die once this is over since there's no aftermath for you to consider."

The Supreme's baritone voice richly filled the car with overwhelming laughter. "Die? Pegasus, I got into this game knowing it'd kill me. This game's all about taking out kings and pawns. When all the pawns are gone, what's left to defeat except the king? Your life's already been branded for hell right along with me. I think you should be asking yourself that question, il mio amico."

Pegasus's breathing shortened a smidge. The Supreme could imagine the way his eye narrowed, possibly from feeling cornered like a frightened bunny. After all, who could he blame but himself? He was the stupid one who left loose cannons like Atem and Yami on the streets, knowing what kind of destructive force these two were. Shit, it even scared him to the point of trying to take them out himself, but second-guessing was what probably made him change his mind.

The Supreme sucked in a long dry inhale of his blunt and said in a tone lower than the depths of the ocean. "Guess Zane's got a track on my whereabouts doesn't he?" He heard a quick intake of breath. Rolling his eyes, the Supreme smacked the ashes off the end of his smoke. "Those tracking devices have a tendency to leave a nasty echo in the background, Pegasus. You might wanna tell Zane to update his equipment. I'll give you a hint to save you the trouble since I know ole' Ziggy ain't saying shit. You have until 10:00 a.m. tomorrow morning to find us or you're gonna have about four bodies out here depending on how these folks plan to cooperate. Since we both know these kids are hardheaded, there's likely to be more. If you want, I can have 'em gift wrapped and delivered to your doorstep—"

The call ended with a smack so vicious, it left a snapping twinge in the Supreme's ears. He lamely tossed the phone in the backseat, and stared straight ahead out the windshield. Ignorant ass bastard, he inwardly mused, twisting the knob on the radio. What kind of rookie did Pegasus take him for? The game was old and the rules even older. Half the police force will be here in an hour and Pegasus with Zigfried in tow.

Pegasus would be a fool to come out here. The Supreme was one of the few people on this planet who could give three damns what kind of firepower the millionaire had behind him.

But, he was still free to come out if he wanted. After all, there were plenty of bullets to share between everybody. Ammo didn't discriminate who it hit.

"That's the third time you looked out the window."

Atem turned away from where his fingers were dipping the blinds down near the bedroom window. Truthfully, yeah, he had been spying out the windows since they came here. Yugi hadn't been easy on him or Yami since he was brought here without reason. He questioned them every hour, on the hour about what was going on, should it be something he should know about, if everything was ok and it would have gotten on Atem's last nerve a moment ago if Yugi didn't look interesting covered from waist to neck in soap sods and his hair tied low.

"I didn't know I needed permission to look out the window of my own house," Atem replied to the question with a side smirk.

Yugi shifted his weight to the other foot in the doorway, eyebrow cocked. "Avoiding my question, as usual." He flipped the towel he'd been using to dry his hands over his shoulder and walked over with obvious intentions of checking for himself.

Atem didn't stop him when Yugi bent the blinds down to check out for himself. His eyes switched from side to side, up and down the auburn lit street, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. "Hmph," he stepped away and eyed Atem suspiciously. "Nothing huh?"

"I never said that."

"Then what are you looking at?"

"Something."

Yugi rolled his eyes at Atem's boyish grin. "Whatever," he grumbled, going for the door. "When you're done staring at your something, can you come help us with your daughter before she turns this house into a swimming pool?"

There wasn't a reply. Yugi turned to see why and found Atem's attention intently focused outside he window, jawline hard as stone and eyes narrowed tight. His right arm was braced on the side of the window, head low and stance tense. It was such a change in body language, once playful and not sinister, Yugi had to be sure he was looking at the same person. For a while, he just watched Atem spy outside the window. The Blue Eyes Leader seemed to have dismissed Yugi's presence all together for whatever it was holding his attention outside.

Yugi cautiously approached, tugging at the hem of the grey t-shirt he borrowed from Atem's drawer. His sock clad feet shuffled across the carpet, carefully and quiet, noticing with relief that Atem seemed to remember he was there, when his eyebrow rose, but he didn't turn away from the window.

"I'll be there in a minute," Atem murmured when he felt Yugi's chin graze his shoulder.

Yugi nudged his chin into Atem's shoulder and nuzzled his nose in the line of Atem's black Henley shirt. One of the rare times, he didn't see Atem in blue. Other colors seemed to suit him more tastefully. "I wanna stay here a minute."

Atem couldn't hold in the chuckle at Yugi's semi request. Yugi was nervous. The shivering fingers toying with Atem's belt loops were proof enough, but Yugi's slight tone change was extra evidence. Atem couldn't blame the kid. Being forced to come out here with no explanation, surrounded by Red and Blue Bloods, calling and knocking every few minutes, it couldn't be easy for him. Atem caught the furtive glances Yugi snuck at him and Yami sometimes, uncertainty and worry etched in his young face. It was as if Yugi were waiting for Atem or Yami to pull a gun on him and say this was why they brought him all the way out here. Just to die.

A tiny smile tugged the corner of Atem's lips. He gazed over his shoulder at the sprouting spikes that escaped the rubber band holding the rest of Yugi's volcanic hair. His face was hidden in Atem's back, fingers still nimbly hooking and pulling at his belt loops.

"Ya good?" He said to Yugi.

Yugi nodded against his back. "I'm OK, just tired maybe."

Atem didn't buy that for a minute. However, he'd entitle the boy to a few white lies. "Why don't you go to bed then, hm?" Atem rolled his arm around to settle on Yugi's waist, spraying his long fingers on his stomach.

Yugi warmed, turning away his face at the affectionate strokes. "I'm not sleepy."

"You said you were tired."

"Tired not sleepy."

Atem poked Yugi's side. "Same difference. Don't you have homework?"

Yugi shrugged. "What's the point when I'm being held captive for God knows how long?"

And here we go. Atem ducked his head sheepishly, still maintaining his little grin. "Maybe I wanna keep you near me all the time." He dropped his nose in Yugi's nose and inhaled. "I like the way you smell."

"Yeah right," Yugi blushed. "Good save, but do better." He went silent a moments, then said, "I don't like secrets. You and Yami have been keeping me in the dark when I know something's wrong. Why won't you tell me?" He looked up at him and found himself ensnared in Atem's lukewarm glare. "Maybe I can help?"

"You can help by staying ignorant," said a cool voice from behind them, "otherwise, it'll only make you want more answers."

Yugi and Atem turned to see Yami walking towards them. He wore a fitted dark yellow Under Armor short sleeve, made several shades darker in blotched places on his chest from where the pair were sure were courtesy of Kisara's underwater adventures. Yami's black jersey shorts hung loose on his hips, and he flipped a terry cloth towel over his shoulder as he stopped on the other side of the window and brushed the curtains aside to take a look outside.

There was definitely something there that even Yami saw, that Yugi couldn't. It annoyed him a little when the older men shared a look that left him feel completely annexed from the relationship. It's a good thing he hadn't told either of them about his overbearing teenager, hormonal confession of love, or he would seriously be up shit-creek.

"If my child drowns, you'll be right behind her," Atem warned.

Yami drew back with a dubious expression. "Either she drowns herself or I'll do it. Little heifa pushed my damn buttons tryin' to pull me in with her." He went back to peeling the curtains back and blinds down, centralizing his gaze on the same thing Atem was looking at.

Yugi clung to Atem's side a second longer before roughly shrugging his arm off. The nudge took Atem by surprise and had Yami's hand shooting out to snatch Yugi's upper arm and yanking him back in place. "Is there a problem?"

"Leave me alone."

Atem caught Yugi's wrist in his grasp and squeezed, twisting the bones. "I suggest you lose the attitude—"

"Or what huh? Or what?" Yugi snapped back.

Atem blinked at him as if he'd lost his mind and Yami, for once, went wide eyed unable to counter.

"That's what I thought. Let go of me." Yugi slapped Yami's hand away, nastily frowned at them both, practically daring either one with his eyes to touch him like that again before stomping toward the door.

Kisara appeared, sprinting down the hall in her birthday suit made of soap sods, squealing like a piglet. She left a trail of water in her wake, giggling when she saw Yugi coming behind her.

Atem and Yami shared an eyebrow-risen glance.

"Freeze Kisara Marie Hassan!" The wet stomping sounds came to a squeaking halt. Yugi's marching feet echoed to the bedroom. "Get your ass back in the bathroom, or so help me God I will spank the living daylights out of you, do you hear me!"

Atem and Yami's eyebrows rose to their hairlines. Seconds later, Kisara ran in the opposite direction, slipping and sliding the whole way. Yugi appeared in the doorway long enough to cut his eyes at the two men before disappearing behind the little girl.

Yami frowned slightly. "He's pissed."

"Clearly," Atem grunted. "But I can't help that. We don't have time to babysit his feelings."

"He's still young. Moreover, confused. I doubt I would want to left out of the loop when it's co obvious that my lovers knew something I didn't."

Atem's face suddenly smoothed out of all expression. "Since when did you become the voice of reason? Wasn't it your idea to keep them locked away from all this drama?"

"It was a mutual agreement between the both of us, Atem," Yami muttered. "I still don't think we should tell him anything."

"Then why bring it up at all?"

They fell into a heavy silence, with no reply forthcoming from Yami. No real surprise there. Mentally, Atem prepared himself for whatever logical, psychological ploy Yami would come up with in order to persuade him that maybe, just maybe, they could let Yugi in on a smidge of what was going on. Scowling hard, Atem settled himself with returning to his business outside the window, examining the street's oddities, the things that belonged and those and didn't. What would be his response when Yami did come to him with what Atem knew would be a persuasive attempt? Atem knew his answer would remain a firm no, not out of being the authoritative figure he was trying to portray himself to be. No, how could he admit aloud that it was more towards a lack of his own protective skill? For possibly the third time in his life, he was brought to a level of uncertainty of whether he could truly protect the ones he cared for.

"Are you mad at me, Yugi?" Kisara hung her head sadly, the memory of Yugi's threat still fresh in her mind as he dressed her in her pink and white Barbie pajamas.

Yugi looked up blinking absently and shaking his head. He hadn't spoken another word to Kisara the entire time he bathed her, clean up the bathroom and dried her off. She safely kept quiet too and it was unfair to her, he knew, to dish out his frustrations on her just because her father was an ignorant asshole and Yami was nothing more than a silent control freak. Yugi remained focused on her giant blue eyes and waves of pearly white hair, falling on her face. Yugi grimaced at the worried gleam in those eyes, knowing he was the one to put that emotion there.

"No, love, no. I'm not mad at you." He stood up, lifting her in his arms. Kisara wrapped her arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he rocked her back and forth. "I was upset is all. I'm sorry for taking it out on you."

"It's OK," she answered softly. "Daddy gets mad sometimes too."

"Hmmm," Yugi didn't really feel up to talking about Daddy right now. He carried her over to the bed and sat on the edge, pulling the comforter and sheets back. "Come on, we need to say our prayers."

"But I'm not ready to go to sleep yet." Kisara crawled over to her pillows to retrieve her teddy bear and sat cross-legged and wide awake. "I wanna talk some more. It's not a school night," she went on to say as if that little fact would settle the argument in her favor.

"Yes, but I have to do what your Daddy normally does." Yugi settled in beside her, looping his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to his side. "Isn't it your bedtime?"

"Daddy lets me stay up if I don't have to go to school. And I wanna talk to you some more. I like you."

Yugi chuckled. "I like you too." He leaned in to rub their noses together in an Eskimo kiss.

Kisara swatted at his face, giggling. She wormed herself over between his legs and flopped back on Yugi's chest, dancing her teddy bear on its toes, perfectly content with life as it is. Yugi didn't fight with her, so long as she was comfortable, why disturb her fun time? Yugi leaned over to the nightstand, searching the top compartment for a comb and scrunchies. He found a brush instead and three red hair ties, and started fixing Kisara's hair for the evening. Being the diva she was, Kisara welcomed the gentle strokes applied to her head where Yugi dragged the brush down her long hair and massaged his fingers against her scalp. Yugi blushed a little bit because his memory went back to a certain father who had a distinct similarity to purring just like that when his scalp was touched.

Yugi fixed up Kisara's first hair bun and began working on her second one when a firm knock rasped on the door. It opened and Atem's face peeked in. He winked at Kisara and looked at Yugi. "When you put her to bed, come see us. We need to talk."

"Fine," Yugi saucily answered. "You can close the door now."

Atem's mouth set in a firm line and he looked ready to snap, but he made a warning gesture with his hand that Yugi was going to regret that smart mouth. Yugi ignored him as if the man wasn't standing there. When the door closed, that's when Yugi let out his pent up air.

Kisara leaned back to look at Yugi's face. "Are you and Daddy fighting?"

"No."

"Yes you are." Kisara sucked her teeth and went back to playing with her bear.

"I said we weren't. It's not polite to argue with an adult."

"It isn't polite to lie either, Yugi," Kisara returned. "You shouldn't be mad at each other. People who love each other don't do that."

Love? What on earth? "Who's in love?"

"You, my daddy and Mr. Yami."

"Right." Yugi decided to play along with her just for the hell of it. "And how do you know that?"

"I know my Daddy. I see how he looks at you and Mr. Yami. It's how he looks at me. I look at chocolate like that when I'm ready to eat it."

Yugi's face exploded in bright red. "Erm, I wouldn't say that's the same thing. Besides, your daddy only loves you. He doesn't have enough room in his heart for me. . ." Maybe Yami . . . but not me.

"My daddy's silly and he's a man, which makes him stupid. He doesn't know what he wants. Cousin Isis says all men are stupid because they don't know how to . . . um, I forget, but it means they're dumb. My daddy does love you. He doesn't use words to say it that's all."

Yugi's brushing slowed. He couldn't believe he was considering the wisdom of a five-year-old. He chuckled a little to himself and shook his head. "If you say so, baby girl."

Yugi walked into the living room stank of weed and air freshener. It took another hour before Kisara was persuaded to sleep with promises of ice cream and tea parties the following day. The metallic sounds of cartridges being loaded into guns and the chambers being retracted back, echoed loud and precise in Yugi's ears. Yami was on the floor, shirtless in a pair of black jeans, surrounded by what seemed like the disembodied parts of every gun known to humanity. Bullets arranged from smallest to biggest sat set in rows of twenty under empty magazines and 9mm handguns.

Atem was sitting on the couch, pulling back chambers, checking the sides and when he deemed them suitable for discharge, placed them on the coffee table with the rest of the prepared weaponry. Yugi stood snared in the precision and expertise of these two cleaning, loading and fixing weapons like soldiers ready to go to war.

"Come here."

Yugi jolted in place, unsure who really said that because neither had broken their stride, Yami fixing the guns and handing them to Atem for inspection and Atem, stilling loading them.

However, it was Atem who removed the blunt from his mouth and sent a look so cold, liquid nitrogen ran down Yugi's spine. Yugi held up his chin and folded his arms across his chest, unmoved by the glare, even when Yami paused his work to send Yugi a look just as acidic. For the longest, the three stared back, two against one.

Yugi shifted from foot to foot, nerves on edge. "Did you want something?"

Atem scowled at the empty seat cushion next to him, practically using action instead of words to order cooperation. He may as well grunt and scratch under his armpit for effect.

"Yugi." That voice was easy to identify, gruffer, and borderline hair raising. Yugi discreetly cupped his hands over his arms, thumbing the peppering goosebumps across his skin as he gazed at the back of Yami's head. "If I either of us has to stop what we're doing to make you sit . . ." Yami looked over his shoulder, leaving the rest for Yugi's imagination as he locked eyes with him, hands moving with experienced knowledge, cramming bolts, springs and barrels together without a second thought.

Yugi glared at the plush carpet under his feet, grappling the fabric between his toes. He didn't move. The disobedience was disorientating, even to himself, and as the metal sounds came to a halt, he knew he had pushed it when Yami stood and dusted off the end of his blunt in the ashtray. He started towards him, the smooth stroll slick and even.

Atem lightly reached out to touch Yugi's shoulder.

And Yugi was looking at him then; the kind of look defiant teenagers gave adults when wanting to learn why they thought they could throw their weight around without care. The hand on his shoulder softly slid along the plane of Yugi's collarbone, followed the line of his jaw and steadied itself on his cheek. Yugi restrained his instinctive desire to turn his face into the callous palm and cave into the overwhelming scent of Yami's space.

Out of the corner of his eye, Yugi saw it coming a second too late. Atem's right hand rose and came across his face so powerfully, the contact rattled Yugi's teeth, snatching a sharp shout from his throat. He tasted blood, blood from his split lip and bitten tongue. Holding his stinging face, Yugi gazed up at the livid scarlet eyes, face bright red from the developing welt on his cheek and humiliation. He bowed his head and looked over at Yami with a tiny bit of hope that he would tell Atem he was wrong for what he'd just done or even come and comfort Yugi.

Neither happened of course. Yami's eyes were raging such a deep scarlet, Yugi imagined he wanted to have his chance to slap him too.

"The next time I tell you to do something, you better ask how fast I want it done. If I say jump, you ask how high. If I tell you to swim, you better start divin'. When I tell you to come to me, you better move with a sense of urgency but keep your damn mouth shut and stop back talking me." Atem's voice never rose and never fell. It was perfectly balanced, sharp as a freshly refined razor and the effects as painful as any cut. "If I'm doing anything for you, know it's for your own damn good. So, if I want to bring you a hundred fucking miles from the city, it's for a good ass reason. Me and that man there, don't give this kind of treatment to anybody. Be grateful we're acting like we give a shit about your life." Atem took Yugi's chin between his two fingers, eyes hard as stone when he saw the bubbling tears and the purpling bruise on Yugi's cheek. "Don't forget who you belong too."

Yugi's bottom lip bled a trail down the corner of his mouth, his chest expanding and falling faster and faster. His fingers clenched, his heart fluttered to the soles of his feet, then his hand spread open and it was going across Atem's face with all his embodied rage, all of his hurt and all his pain for the love of this stupid man who staggered back, astounded.

"You don't own me!" Yugi shouted and his hand went over to strike Atem again, but his wrist was caught by Yami and so, Yugi cast his anger on him now. "I'm sick of this. I'm tired of being left out. You told me this was a three-way relationship, yet I feel like I'm always the one who doesn't know what the hell is going on. I'm always the one you try to control. It's always me!" He snatched his wrist away and gave his back to them, saving some of the mangled remains of his dignity and pride. Voice tight with quenched anger, Yugi continued on to say, "Why'd I even agree to do this bullshit in the first place is beyond me. Seems I'm gonna be the one hurt in the end."

There was movement, a nasty hiss and the front door opening and slamming shut. Yugi whirled around and only saw Yami standing there, his eyes staring at the door Atem left through. So, he decides to just leave without a word. Yugi should have been the one walking out the door, pissed at the world. He touched his throbbing cheek, unable to feel a hurt deeper than the one pulling at his heartstrings. The pain on his cheek was nothing in comparison.

A large caramel hand came to relax over his hand. Yugi walked into Yami's chest without thinking and felt his chest constrict into a tight ball. Yami dropped his chin on top of Yugi's head and wrapped his arms around his waist, hugging him close.

"What just happened?" Yugi whispered into Yami's shirt, sniffling.

Yami laid his lips on Yugi's forehead. "A huge ass conflict of emotions neither of you knows how to handle."

"Why'd he hit me? My own grandfather never raised his hand to me like that."

"Because he's confused, Atem's never known how to control his emotions, especially pertaining to someone outside of Kisara."

"He's never hit you."

"Yes he has. A lot harder than he's hit you and I hit his ass back."

Yugi turned his face to the side and pressed his ear over Yami's heart, whilst staring longingly at the door. He sniffled and hiccupped. Yami's thumb slide under his eye, gathering the wet tears reddening those eyes he found more captivating then a stack of bills.

"We aren't trying to shut you out. . ." Yami softly confessed and pulled Yugi's face up to hear his reason. "It's just hard on us, protecting you, Kisara, each other and doubtin' whether we'll be able to do it."

"Protecting us from what though? You won't tell me anything. All I can do is sit back and wonder and think and assume. If my life is in danger, I wanna know. Let me see it coming so I'll know what to do when it happens—"

"Nothing is gonna happen to you," Yami cut in almost sharply. "Or Kisara. I stake my life on that." Yami reached behind his back and his hand came back with a jet black 9mm. He held it out until Yugi took it. "You don't use this unless you need to. I don't want you having that shit on your conscience for the rest of your life. You're too young for that."

"Yami," Yugi buried his face in Yami's shirt again, "you're scaring me. You both are. If you won't tell me what's wrong, can you promise me everything will be, OK?"

Yami pulled Yugi's face back into his chest and hugged him closer. "Yeah," he murmured. "Everything's gonna be, OK."

Atem stood at the end of the path leaning to the open street. The two houses across had lights flickering on and off. The curtains pushed to the side. He spotted Seth and Isis looking through the windows. He didn't signal for either of them to come and turned to look at the house adjacent theirs and spied, one of Yami's men, Mahado gazing out the window with that chick Mai. Down the street, Atem caught sight several new vehicles parked in the seclusion of the area.

The ones stationed under the light posts he recognized, the ones parked in the shadows, he knew weren't his or Yami's men. Gradually the neighborhood was filling up with soldiers ready for war. For the time being and took major effort, the Red Eyes and Blue Eyes managed to secure a one day truce in order to vaporize this extra crew thinking they could roll in and take over. It was one thing the rival gangs had in common, neither wanting any extra competition for territory.

Yusei's car was the last to roll in, about five men deep, each flashing their cell phone lights to say they were in position for the rest of the night and most of tomorrow. Whether these Brotherhood fools struck tonight or tomorrow didn't matter. They've been sitting out there, lurking like fucking bats and it was getting on Atem's last nerve.

Putting him on edge, and making him take out his frustrations on the wrong people. Atem gazed down at his hand, the very one that struck a loved one and he clenched it and shoved it deep in his pocket. These hands were meant to protect the ones he cared for, not hurt and here he'd done what he said he wouldn't ever do since hitting Yami around.

The front door opened and closed behind him. Judging by the lite weight of the footsteps and the hesitate halts here and there, Atem wasn't surprised when Yugi pressed his head in the middle of Atem's back and wrapped his arms around his waist. He squeezed hard. Wetness spotted the back of Atem's shirt and then the sniffles came. Atem's hands lifted and fell on top of Yugi's arms.

Was it fear that Atem felt melting from those bright eyes? Or concern? Or worry? Whatever it was, Atem didn't blame the kid for feeling any of it.

It was how he felt about tomorrow, concerned, worried and . . . dare he admit that he was even a little afraid of losing someone close.

Kisara half-woke from a happy dream to the sensations of hands pushing at her hips, feeling the thick sheets being pulled from under her tummy. "No," she grumbled sleepily, smacking at the intrusive hand interrupting her sleep time.

She eventually gave up and let out a huge sigh, letting the blanket be taken from her and curled into a tight ball to keep the warmth. A large warm mass slid into on the mattress and curled its arms around her waist and hugged her close to a large chest. Kisara instinctively snuggled closer to it, recognizing her daddy's scent and the slow rhythm of his heartbeat.

Another figure crawled in on the other side of her and curled it's arms over her daddy's arms. Then she felt something at the end of the bed and lifted her legs. The thick blanket then settled over them all and when she opened her eyes, she saw her Daddy, Yugi and Yami all circled around her. She closed her eyes, and clutched her bear, ready to sleep and dream of her most favorite people.

Yugi yawned cozily snuggling in the fan of silky hair tickling his nose. He snorted, reluctantly opening his eyes. Kisara had long since made him her personal pillow, half of herself thrown all over him and the rest, thrown wherever there was space. Yugi stretched his arms and rolled over her, quietly, letting his feet touch the floor. He tucked the blanket around her and crept out, closing the door behind him. Yugi checked around the house, as expected since he hadn't seen them in bed; Atem and Yami were nowhere to be seen.

The bathroom, bedrooms, kitchen and living room were all empty. Yugi looked up at the wall clock. It read 9:36 a.m. He hadn't realized he'd slept in so late. Scratching at his stomach, he smacked his mouth at the tart morning breath and went to brush his teeth and shower. When he finished they'd probably be back in. He hurried, changing out of last night's clothes, finding a pair of Heba's old pants and a t-shirt from Yami's drawer. By the time he finished showering and freshening up, the wall clock hands were on 9:52. Still no sign of Yami and Atem. Where had they gone off?

Yugi scratched at his head and shrugged. He went to the kitchen to fish out some breakfast items. "Let's see, eggs, bacon, oatmeal, biscuits or toast," he murmured questionably to himself. "I think I want biscuits—what the hell?" Yugi's blood froze over when he thought he heard a stream of firecrackers go off, but then the sound effects shortened without the following whistler. It was just one, he heard, than came another and another.

Yugi was so full of shock, he didn't even notice the sudden splash of glass exploding in the living room until a bullet ricocheted off the wall and bounced lifelessly on the dinner table.

Gunshots. Guns. Gunfire. His mind screamed manically. Get away. Find lower ground. Get Kisara.

He rolled on his stomach and start crawling to get to the furthest room in the house. He snatched the tablecloth from the table and flung it over his head as the gunfire elevated to a massive war. He moved quickly, worming on his stomach and then pushing up to his hands and feet to crawl as fast as he could to the backroom. He opened the door and slammed it shut.

Kisara was already awake, huddled in a corner with the blankets pulled over her head, whimpering. Her fingers peeled away the first layer to see what scariness came in her room and upon seeing Yugi, she tossed the blankets aside and ran into the back of his legs, crying. Yugi kneeled and enveloped her in his arms. It was hard to tell who was shaking more, himself or her, but he held her close and picked her up.

"It's OK, it's OK. I got you." He bounced her up and down, pacing back and forth as the echo of the bedlam calamity went on outside. It was utter madness, the gunshots shooting off like a horde of angry bees.

"Yugi, I want Daddy. Where is he?"

"I don't know, baby girl." God he wish he knew.

Glass exploded in the living room again. It sounded like a canon had slammed through the walls. Yugi's mind warped into overdrive. The thoughts were instinctive, primal, flashing through his head in the instant that if someone came in here they would be helpless to protect themselves. But there was only one of them that really mattered. Yugi immediately remembered the gun Yami gave him and went to get it out of the bottom drawer, he stashed it away in last night. He knewthere was no other choice. He closed his eyes as a lifetime of memories burned out into clear, steely resolve. He had to protect Kisara.

Looking at the gun, then at her, the gun and her, Yugi nodded, tucked the weapon in his waistband and carried Kisara over to the closet. "Baby girl—Kisara, listen you gotta let go." Yugi struggled gently to loosen the grip around his neck and pushed her deep into the closet.

"Yugi don't leave me!" She screamed and made to grab for his neck again, but his hand came and pressed into her chest.

"Stay here," he firmly ordered. "I promise I'm gonna come back OK. I need to see what's going on!"

"Yugi no!"

"I said stay here!"

"But I'm scared," she choked, squeezing her teddy's neck. "I don't—I don't wanna be h-here by—by myself."

"Kisara—"

"No, no, no!" She vigorously shook her head, terrified tears springing into her eyes. "You stay here with me!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him with all her five-year-old strength. "You stay, you stay with me, please!"

Yugi swallowed and stared off into the room because anywhere else was better than staring at the abandoning accusations sprouting to life in those blue eyes. "I promise, love, I promise, I promise I'll be right back!"

"No, guns kill people! I don't want you to die!"

"I'm not going to die!" He shouted, more for her comfort, then his own. "I promise I won't die. You stay here in the closet and don't open it for anyone, OK?"

Kisara curled into the tightest corner and burst into eyes, holding the only companion she had with her, her teddy. Yugi leaned forward and kissed her forehead before standing and shutting the door.

Yugi looked around anxiously for something, anything at all to cover the closet with. He picked the night stand and pushed it in front of the door. The gunfire grew louder in volume. He had no idea what he was doing as he felt the gun pitifully shoved in his pants. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Yugi braced himself and went out the bedroom, unsure what he could do or what he planned to do.

He took another deep breathe, prepared himself to do something stupid and opened the bedroom door. The gunfire continued to rain in the living room, tearing through the couch stuffing, splintering wood and breaking glass. He crawled on his hands and knees as fast as he could. He went to the front door and jingled the handle. It twisted and he cracked it open to gaze outside.

Yugi saw something waiting for him outside. A tall, muscular, tan skinned man holding a large pistol grip shot gun to his face.

Yugi shook to his cord, mouth dry and tongue thick.

"Yeah, that's right. You know what this is huh?" The man grinned at him with brilliantly white teeth. Yugi was stuck on the floor, paralyzed with gapping horror as the man stepped inside the house, pushing Yugi back step by step.

"P-please, please don't," Yugi whispered as the gun rose to his forehead. "I won't say anything."

"You will if I want you too, son." The man squatted to Yugi's level and reached out to touch his pretty face. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Just answer my question and you won't get hurt."

Yugi nodded attentively.

"Good boy. I see you, but where's the girl?"

Yugi eyes grew gigantically as he swallowed past the lump in his throat. "I don't—I don't know what you're talk—" The gun barrel flew across his face.

"Ah-ah-ah, I don't like liars." The man pressed the gun under Yugi's throat, catching a drop of blood as it dripped from his mouth. "I know she's in here."

"She—she isn't in here." Yugi's panic filled voice insisted as he cradled his aching jaw. "She was sent away."

"Oh?" The man chuckled sweetly. He suddenly grabbed a hand full of Yugi's hair and cranked his head so far, his spine creaked from the pain. He felt the instant it touched his throat, a blade thin as paper touched curled under his ear and pressed in. "You have until I slide this knife across your throat to talk." And the burning pain started.

"I don't know—please stop, ouch please stop! I don't know where she is!" Yugi screamed. "Please stop! I-I don't know—please, please stop, please stop! I don't know!"

"You sure about that?" The blade continued, moving at a snail's pace blood pooling over the silver plane. "I smell a lie."

"I swear to God, I don't know!" Yugi buckled, thrashing as the surge of agony tore through his body.

"Yugi! Yugi what's wrong!"

Yugi stopped struggling, and trembled. The man stopped cutting. His smile said it all. He heard that sweet little voice echo from the back bedroom. He turned wild tear streaked eyes at his killer.

"Hmm, still not here?"

"Please . . . please don't."

The man's grin rivaled a shark on the hunt. He hooked the knife under Yugi's throat and continued slicing through his flesh, relishing in the young teen's muffled cries and begging screams. . .

Everyone agreed to meet at the second house across the street at daybreak. Red Eyes and Blue Eyes merged into a single unit, the intensity of their rivalry thick enough slice through. Yami and Atem stood in the center of the mass, huddled in giving orders to be executed. The scheme was much too complicated to mess up because not only were they having to make sure they were killing Brotherhoods, they had to make sure they were actually Brotherhoods and not their own men.

By the time they finished delivering the plan, the leaders scattered in different directions. The Senior Members took charge of a squad of men and snuck off behind wooden fences. The street lords would take care of themselves, pairing up in twos so as to always have a cover. Yami went with Atem, Mahado covered Seth, Isis ran with Mai and Raphael hide with Marik.

The mission: kill the men in their sleep. When all was said and done, they were ready to start by 9:45 a.m. Joey and his crew took the first dash, going towards the unidentified car and checking the driver's seat. He held his gun at the ready, seeing nothing. Confused, he stood up higher and looked in the backseat, the front again and still nothing.

He spotted Yusei's gaggle of men heading towards the car across the street, but after a quick inspection, came up short as well. After this happened a couple more times, Joey whipped out his cell phone and dialed for Yami.

"O', we got nada out here. It's just a bunch of bogies—"

It was all he managed when the first agonizing scream erupted a few cars down and the scent of gunpowder rose in the air. He looked wide eyed as a shot exploded from the truck of a vacant car, one of his men went down dead and more gunfire joined in from the inside of the cars that hadn't been inspected.

Joey filled to the ground, covering his head as bullets recoiled off the surface of the asphalt, and came to a spinning halt. He low crawled to the side of the car, opened and searched around for the release mechanism. He found it on the inside of the door and pressed it. The back truck popped open and whoever was inside, met one hellish end as two of Joey's men scrambled back to pop a cap in the two fools inside.

His mind switched to kill and survive in seconds, barking orders left and right for everyone to find holes in the trunks, aim their guns and shoot inside. Joey carefully spied around a tire, hugged low to the ground. He saw Yusei doing the same and made a gesture with his hand. Yusei threw his hands up, confused.

Joey rubbed over his eyes and did another set of signs with his hands that Yusei caught on too quickly. He passed the message down the line to the rest of his men. Minutes later, Thief's suburban came screeching around the corner machine gun fire unloading down the block. More and more of the enemy were emerging out of thin air, military weaponry set to rapid fire.

Akefia whipped his big suburban baby around as a barricade and jumped out the passenger's side, to continue firing. Joey low-dashed over to his partner and joined in, positioning his gun on the hood and opened fire. Seconds later, Joey caught sight of Seto's Tundra roaring down the street and came to close end the other side, making the defense thicker and easier for everyone to hide behind and open. Seto hoped out of his car, standing straight, no fear in his heart as his billowing red blazer flapped in the wind. He took a quick drag of his cigarette and opened fire on the unsuspecting enemy, stuck in la la land from the unexpected party.

Blood rushed in their ears, hearts pumping adrenaline in their icy veins. Determination to kill was the all the fuel they needed to destroy the opposing enemy. Yusei appeared, nothing but an extra hand to pull a trigger with as he wedged in between Akefia and Joey with two Sigs in his hands.

"Yeahhhh fuckin' yeahhhh!" Akefia's manic shouts boomed over the noise as he squeezed the stuttering Uzi in his hands, popping lead everywhere. Joey joined in the sheer bliss that came from eliminating your enemies, bottom lip chewed raw from the excitement and thrill.

"Ya good, Muff?" He heard Seto yell over the shouts.

"Fuck yeah, I'm good!" Joey retorted. He was better than good. Getting rid of these posing ass motherfuckers was going to be the highlight of his day.

Meanwhile further down the street, the other side of the neighborhood was open to just as much mayhem as the street lords bookended the other side, behind the protective shield of open car doors. In Yami's hand was a sawed off pistol grip double barrel shotgun, devouring the street with echoing cannon blasts. Standing above him, Atem unloaded two loaded Sigs at once. Neither said a word to the other, able to read plenty in the other's body language.

Mai opened an entire cartridge on a victim hiding behind a dumpster and cackled like a witch when the young men fell to his knees. Bullets bounced like Ping-Pong balls. Isis was in the front, lean and prone position with a M16 cradled in her arms, aiming and taking out whoever was stupid enough to make a run for it.

Seth, with Mahado at his side, both tag teamed a bundle of idiots hiding in one of the houses. Seth would quickly take care of a new car he didn't recognize that came careening around the corner. However, he took note that now the Brotherhood men were wearing green. These other flunkies were all dressed in regular civilian clothes, dropping like flies. Mahado rose up just then to aim his Sig at a new car when all at once the street battle froze. A round metal ball flew in the air, twirling like a ballerina and landed right behind them. Four seconds, they all had four seconds to react before the grenade went off.

The explosion shattered eardrums. Mai's screams violently rung from her position on the ground as she stared in dumbfounded shock that half her leg and entire left arm were blown into chunks of burning flesh. She wailed, chest heaving and falling, fist slamming against the ground, unable to bear the pain.

Yami rose to his feet, ready to carry her away, but the rotating black orbs in the sky prevented his rescue and landed where she laid. She looked at him, dread and sadness in her eyes. He was unable to tear away the moment when the explosion took her head and upper torso.

"Fuck," Atem hung his head and before he could think about it, snatched Yami's hand and started running down the street. Yami continued looking on, unable to grasp on to the fact that one of his people of ten years just died in front of him.

They reached the other end of the Senior Members who were doing a better job of holding their own until an intense sense of déjà vu welcomed the street lords to the same kind of scene. More cars, about six came tearing around the corners. Car doors snapped open and as soon as their feet hit the ground, their arms drew back and sent grenades flying overhead.

"Grenade!" Joey shouted, taking cover by the car.

A bunch of them hit the dirt hard, covering their heads. The explosions roared and pulsed in the grounds. Then there came silence, ear ringing, and gut dreading silence. Everyone gradually unwrapped their arms from their heads and listened. Nothing, not a sound.

"Yami, Atem!"

The gang leaders shared a frown and looked around as all eyes turned to them. They laid flat on their stomachs and gazed from beneath the cars to see a single pair of feet coming towards them.

Yami stood first to see a tall, burly built man with inky black hair tied off his face and crafty grin under his bar handle mustache. He was wearing a linen green shirt and khaki creased slacks with gator skin shoes.

"Ah, there's that pretty face." The man grinned like he just found his best friend. "Recognize me, il mio amico?"

Yami narrowed his eyes. "No."

"But you should. You remember that young man you killed a few weeks back. Goes to the same school as that kid you fuck around with." He snapped his fingers. "Now, what was his name, ah, Yugi Muto. Yes, he went to school with that Muto kid."

"Should I know you?"

"No, I'll introduce myself. Just as you go by O.G., I'm the Supreme upon my people, but I hope you'd remember the name of the young man you murdered. Ushio Junior, smart, handsome young man. Takes after his old man."

"If I killed him, it was probably within reason. But then again, I killed too many folks over the last few weeks. What makes your kid so special?"

The Supreme shrugged. "Touché, indeed what makes my kid any different from the other brats you've held at gunpoint, yeah?" He snapped his fingers once. A bunch of men hustled from the cars carrying huge, wiggling bundles, wrapped in sheets.

Yami's stomach clenched when they sat down the missing members of his crew: Valon and Ishizu, faces littered with bruises, cuts and lacerations from unspeakable tortures and their mouths gagged. The man casually walked behind them as the two stared forward from the center of the enemy crowd.

"Now, what makes these two unique, hmm? If I just kill this one, he won't be remembered, right?" The Supreme smacked the end of his gun on the side of Valon's face. "Or her? I hardly know who she is, but does it really matter? She's not anyone special."

"Man fuck this!" Akefia stood with his Uzi locked and aimed on the talkative man. "Move outta the damn way before I splatter your shit all over this road!"

"Stand down, Thief!" Yami ordered.

"Fuck that, he's got our men right there! I'ma pop his ass full of hot brass!"

The man rolled his shoulders back as he threw his head back with laughter. "That's precious. Yami, you better get a leash on your hound before I muzzle it for you."

"Fuck you!"

The Supreme's head listed to the side. He tapped his chin three times and looked up to the sun. Yami's eyes grew wide. He knew that sign.

He whirled around, "Get down!" He barked over his shoulder. "Do it now!"

Three precise spits whistled through the air, sharp as arrows. Silence fell as Yami looked on in horror. Akefia stood staring in suspended shock as his hand shakily came up to touch his bleeding chest. Three holes tore through his clothes, the shots so clean he hadn't felt the bullets penetrate his body until the blood and pain started spasming in his muscles. He touched the warm liquid in an stunned fascination, rubbing it between his fingers. He looked at Yami, opened his mouth—then another shot came out of his mouth.

Akefia fell, lifelessly to the ground, a crumble of arms and legs and the colorful shine dead in his eyes. Yami couldn't breathe. Valon's moaning despair howled through the bandana in his mouth as he rocked back and forth at the loss of his partner. He wouldn't mourn him for long. The Supreme grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back, bearing his throat to the world. Valon's shoulders bounced, and quaked.

"Shhh, you don't matter, son. It'll be over in just a minute." The Supreme reached in his back pocket. A pocket switchblade rose in his palm and the blade flipped out, shining in the morning sun. He laid the blade over Valon's jugular and pressed in slowly. Valon's screamed shattered the neighborhood's peace and quiet as blood flowed freely from the minuscular incision, gliding like butter across his throat.

"Stop!" Yami retrieved his gun and pulled the trigger back. "I will load off on your ass if you don't let him go."

The Supreme grinned. He tiled his head to the side and just as it seemed he would tap his chin, the hand with the blade carved a deep U in Valon's neck. The young man sputtered, choking on his own fluids. He lolled to the side, twitching until a gunshot put him out of his misery. Ishizu whimpered a moment more before she met the same fate. The Supreme positioned his gun at the back of her head and pulled twice, each blast taking out an eye.

Joey's blood boiled to unseen degrees. Three of his family was just murdered before his eyes. Fucking Thief didn't see it coming. Valon was made a fool out of, screaming to the bitter end and Ishizu just gunned down like a dog. Fuck this shit. He held up his gun ready to start blazing the streets, but a jerk down from Seto prevented him from being the next unnecessary casualty.

"Enough!" Yami demanded, gun shaking in his palm. "So help me."

"You can shoot me all you want," The Supreme taunted, amused. "Go on, shoot me. I already got what I wanted." He nodded to the side and once more a few men came carrying bundles wrapped in all too familiar sheets.

Yami's heart paralyzed.

So did Atem's when he finally stood and noticed the bed sheets from his room. Royal blue fabrics unrolled from the tops of two heads, Yugi bleeding profusely from a badly wrapped neck wound and the terrified red face of his daughter.