She pushed her bangs back, as she scrutinized the articles messily piled on her desk. Dark, green eyes kept scanning the headlines over and over again, all the while endeavoring to memorize the victims' names, however stupid they may have seemed. After an hour or so, she simply sighed and settled back in her seat, rubbing her temples in frustration.

Her long, blond locks were tied back into four simple braids, with a neat little tail around the back. Her red jacket gleamed nostalgically along the lines of the fading sunlight, her blue skirt blending in with the growing shadows in her office. She wore a white undershirt, one that reflected back the words of the documents. Pearl nails kept rapping the black desk impatiently, as she looked over the articles for the umpteenth today. Finally, she closed her eyes, and shoved the articles away from her.

Angela was getting nowhere with this.

Why the editor-in-chief decided to make her the lead reporter for this, she had no idea. Digging up scandals about celebrities was more her thing; entertaining the masses was her thing; starting drama was her thing. And yet, for some reason, she had to be assigned to…whatever this was. But, out of a momentary lapse of sanity, she decided to take the assignment anyways. She was never one for giving up after all, and besides, if she completed her assignment, the chief did say she'd get a promotion.

Well, a couple of weeks later, and here she still was.

What'd the chief want her to do anyways? Find the name of the culprit? Make an obituary for all the deaths? Let the public knows what actually happened? Follow the Public Security Bureau with the investigation? Provide a comprehensive report? Help them with the autopsies? Seriously, Angela was this close to shoving the assignment back into the chief's smug face and getting the heck out of here.

She stared lazily at the empty space in front of her, taking in all the white walls, with a stray poster of a kitten lying somewhere along her right side. Two tall bookcases nestled against those walls, most of which were empty, aside from a few diplomas and books. A small, tiny tree stood near the cases, but from here, it seems the green was already starting to fade. Well, it's only natural; Angela didn't really have a green thumb to begin with.

But then of course, that stupid plant wasn't the issue here. As of this point, all she could think of was the recent attacks on the upper officials. According to the recent news reports, most of them died in the hospital, just a mere few hours after they were admitted to the emergency room. The doctors couldn't really find anything, and whenever they did they'd only put say the victims died of heart failure, or stroke, or whatever. Neither the city nor the families were allowing them to do autopsies for them, and since that was the case, the police can't get any of the data to forensic labs.

The rest, however, died on the streets. Unlike the hospitalizations, everyone knew how the victims died. Some had bullet holes in their heads, while others with knives in their throats, their eyes wide with terror. Some were found in back alleys, others in abandoned warehouses, some even near what used to be the old Satellite. There was even one man who hung from a light post, the noose tightly secured around his neck.

Dismemberment, sexual assault, hate crimes, any theory the public could get their hands on; that's what people would go for. Rumors kept shrouding the entire case in mystery; government conspiracies, corruption in the higher-ups, bribing. No one believed the police had anything to do with it, and right now, everyone agreed that the killings were, indeed, the work of a psychopath, maybe two, maybe three.

Her eyes carefully flickered over to the neat little list she'd made several days back. Slowly, she reached out for it, and examined whatever contents she'd scribbled down on it. The funeral homes won't give her clearance to see the bodies, and the chief-of-police wasn't really that eager to work with a reporter on the case either. The only thing she can do was wait like everyone else, and see where the articles lead her. If she wanted to get any real information, she was probably going to have to interview the families first, then the police, then the medical staff.

But there in lies the problem; people saw her all the time reporting on would take her seriously; in fact that's what happened when the Satellite rioted. Even Goodwin, who provided most of her leads, had brushed her aside.

The very thought of it caused her to clutch the edge of the papers tightly, as she narrowed her eyes in contempt.

Good riddance.

"E-e-excuse me?" a timid voice called from behind the door.

She jumped and looked up. Her lips parted for a second, as she stared at the closed door, the words still swirling in her head. Before long, the voice called again. "M-Ms. Raines?"

"Y-yes!" she managed.

A small, squeaky little boy came through. Immediately, her tense shoulders relaxed, and she, once again, poured herself over the files. "T-there's s-someone…I, um…t-there's-"

"Bring them in."

"Y-yes ma'am!" And with that, the little boy scurried off, happy that he was of use today.

An intern probably.

Afterwards, silence followed, though Angela could still make out calm footsteps slowly making their way in the room. She heard the door shut in a matter of seconds. There was an awkward pause as the presence came forth, but immediately, the fluorescent lights came on, making the articles clearer to see. Huh; she'd forgotten about the light switch.

"Well?" she asked. "Make it quick."

"Um…right. I'll be helping you with the story, the one about the murders."

She looked up.

He had cropped, dark brown hair, with bright, hazel highlights on top. Dark, piercing eyes blended with the shadows around her, though his skin contrasted sharply to it. He wore a blue, Academy jacket, with a black undershirt beneath it. Dark jeans hugged his legs, and if she squinted, she could make out a single paper in his left pocket. The application.

The new kid, the one from Duel Academy. How old was he anyways? Sixteen? Seventeen? Twelve?

Still, she could use some help. So she smiled her professional smile, and leaned back in her chair. "Right, so you passed the interview, huh?"

He nodded. "Yes. I've done some research about the victims, but other than that-"

"Good," she interrupted, as she stacked the papers into one neat pile. She placed them at the front of her desk, shoved them forward, and stood up. "Go put those away for me."

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Misty Tredwell is coming back to Neo Domino," she explained as she walked to the other side of the room. "I'm going to cover it for tonight's story, so I need you to-"

"W-wait!"

"What?"

"What about the case?"

"Just leave it," Angela snapped, before turning the knob and walking out, the victims' names still embedded in her mind.

"Give me the wrench."

"What for?"

"Just give it to me."

"Yeah…but why?"

"Crow," Yusei said exasperatedly, as he gave his friend a hard stare. After the brief struggle, the redhead sighed, and handed Yusei what he needed. He scratched the back of his head then, as he regarded the duel runners evenly. He scrunched up his nose, before finally nodding in approval. "Hey, looks like we got something."

"Yeah," Yusei replied aimlessly, as he stole one look to his laptop. He stared at it for a while, before returning to the engine. The compressor needed to be tightened, as did the cylinders. How efficient the entire thing is though, Yusei still couldn't tell; the friction alone will push it to its limits, and if they go too fast, the whole thing might overheat.

"So…how was your day?" Crow continued, fingering the handles on the duel runner. Yusei stole a look at him, before continuing on with the latest upgrades. "Fine," he answered.

Crow fixed his dark viridian headband uncomfortably, as he watched Yusei work. He was wearing his job uniform, which only consisted of a single, yellow jacket, with the restaurant logo embedded in the front. Since he hadn't taken the thing off, along with the fact that there were dark shadows embedded beneath his eyes, Yusei knew the guy was going to collapse in the next few moments. Well, he'd been working hard, and Yusei was almost done always; Crow could use a little break.

"Any calls?" Crow suddenly asked.

"Two cars broke down," Yusei explained. "And someone asked me to rebuild their air conditioner."

"…Why?"

"One of the kids threw it out on the street. Crazy, huh?"

"Yeah. Hey, speaking of crazy," Crow began, folding his arms to his chest, "where's Jack?"

"Try the cafe," Yusei said nonchalantly, as he reached over for a screwdriver. As soon as he grabbed it, he couldn't help but notice Crow's shocked face. He sighed, then turned to the duelist with a sympathetic look. "He's trying-"

"Be right back," he grumbled miserably. "You done with her yet?"

"I haven't even started-"

"Good." Immediately, Crow reached over and grabbed his helmet, before setting himself on the driver's seat and speeding right out of the garage.

He stared after his friend for a bit, the comical fight replaying in his head over and over again. He smirked, then turned back and examined the engine. Personally, he didn't even know what to do with those two; sometimes, they were helpful, other times not. Then of course, the three have always been the best of friends, and pissing each other off was probably apart of that friendship, however… confusing it might've seemed.

He twisted the nail into its place, then looked back onto the computer. With both hands, he began grounding the wires to the machine, ignoring the rusty scent coming off the engine. Not enough capacity either; was he going to have to rebuild this thing over again?

Apparently not. The capacitors seemed to fit okay, and the braking system was strong enough to, at the very least, slow the duel runner down in the event something happened. And admittedly, it did look good.

"Yusei?"

He blinked, as the shadow came from the doorstep. His eyes flickered toward the garage door, and before long, he saw Jaden standing there, with a wiry smile on his face.

Automatically, Yusei straightened, the faintest hints of pleasant surprise on his face. It'd been a while since he saw the brunette. The last time they talked, he couldn't really remember when, and how they actually met, he'd forgotten long ago. But still, Yusei welcomed him. "Hey."

The boy nodded in return, as he plopped down onto that old, beat-up couch. With one, stray glance, he turned back to Yusei, and smiled. "You're training for the WRGP?"

"How'd you-?"

"Aki told me."

Yusei stared at Jaden's school uniform for a while, before realizing the two went to the same school. "I didn't think you two actually knew each other."

He shrugged. "Well, we do. She's my very bestest friend in the whole wide world."

Yusei fought down a jealous pang, quickly replacing it with a simple, tight smile. "You're an idiot."

"Bite me."

"Whatever," Yusei replied back. "So, how've things been with you? Been a while since I last saw you."

"Yeah; I've been meaning to keep in touch. So hey, remember what I told you before, about that internship?"

Yusei paused for a moment, thinking back to the conversations the two barely had with each other. That's right; the one with that news station. "You get it?"

"I…think I did?"

"What'd you mean you 'think'?"

"See, there was this lady who was supposed to teach me stuff," Jaden explained quietly, as he leaned back on the sofa, his eyes staring at nothing in particular. "But apparently, she had somewhere to be, so she had me put files away for her. It's so stupid."

"You're a high school student." he reminded.

"So?"

"You've got to prove yourself before you can actually do anything."

"But seriously, I thought this was gonna be…you know, an internship," he complained. "What's gonna happen on Monday, huh? Grab a coffee, sit down, answer calls? If that's all, I'd rather be in class."

"So…that lady…"

"Oh right! My mentor…" His voice faltered, a weary frown coming upon his face. "Angela Raines. She's a reporter for the entertainment industry. She hates kids."

"Birds of a feather."

"Shut it."

Yusei chuckled slightly, as he looked down at the engine, his hands aimlessly fumbling around once more. "But that's it?" he pressed. "No story? No super cool scandal you've always kept talking about?"

Jaden was about to say something, when he stopped, his lips halfway opened. After a few moments of silence, he relaxed, a curiously morbid smile on his face. "Actually, there is one…"

"Which celebrity?"

"No, not those idiots this time," Jaden remarked. "It's real, this story, the kind people actually care about."

Yusei groaned mentally. "Look, if it's about Jack-"

But the boy shook his head. "Nope. So you know about the recent murders right? The one with the politicians and all that?"

Well yes, who hasn't? The killings were so brutal everyone was talking about them, and as such, yesterday Carly felt entitled to tell it to the entire team, just to make sure they'd be on the lookout. Of course, since Akiza was the daughter of a senator, she'd have to be more careful than the rest, but other than that little burden, there was nothing else out of the ordinary, nothing at all that touched their seemingly normal lives. "So you're following that case?" Yusei asked.

Jaden snorted. "Well, yeah, since Ms. Raines can't get her head out of her ass to do anything about it. It's been weeks, and so far, she's got nothing on the killer."

"So she's just…letting you work with her?"

"But in all honesty," he continued, brushing aside Yusei's snide comment, "I've been following this for a while. I'd want to get to the bottom of it too, you know?"

"Oh, so you're a good guy now."

"Quiet."

"Right," he said jokingly. He reached out to the handles, and twisted it, listening to the engine's roar reverberating throughout the garage. He examined the duel runner for a while longer, before standing up, the wrench slipping from his hand in a split second. "So, got any plans of how you're gonna do this?"

"I want to see what Raines has first."

"…So you've got nothing…?"

"All the bodies are being held in one little funeral home right now," he stated haughtily. "If I can get in and talk with the director, maybe they'd give me something."

"…You really are clueless."

"Huh?"

"The doctors all said the victims died of natural causes. As for the ones on the streets-"

"It can't be that simple."

"Let the police do their jobs; remember, you're an intern." Yusei advised, as he wiped his hands on the rags. "You're only job is to, I don't know, intern or something…?"

"No way. There's absolutely no freaking way I'm sitting on the sidelines."

"…Isn't that what reporters do?"

"I-"

"Like I said; just do your job. The police will catch the guy eventually. In the meantime, you can always-"

"Don't you even-"

"-grab a coffee, maybe sit down and take some calls-"

A wrench came flying to Yusei's head just seconds later.

He awoke to the sound of dripping water.

Groggily, Sayer sat up, a deep, stabbing pain throbbing within his chest. His eyes wearily surveyed whatever was around him, all the while trying to ignore the obvious darkness so lovingly enveloped around his vision. In a split second, the lights came on, causing Sayer to wince painfully at the burning rays. When the light cleared, he couldn't help but freeze, unable to breathe, or move.

The interrogation room.

He remembered how it looked, the first time he arrived. He remembered looking down at tiny faces on some paper he couldn't read, at different names he never bothered learning. He remembered how badly they beat him, how they simply dragged him into this room, handcuffed to the chair, as they asked him how many children have disappeared under his care. He remembered how his answer kept changing, how he kept trying to keep the truth from them, trying to cover up his true nature with the same facades he'd lost track of some time ago. He remembered how brutal they were, how incredibly monstrous they were, drilling his head with lies upon lies, using the very same technique he had to ensnare the truth from him. Yes, he remembered that mirror there too, remembered the handsome stranger who once sat there, staring back at him, the reflection so very similar to his own.

He shuddered at the memories, and looked down at the iron table, so very reminiscent of the tables he strapped countless of duelists on.

What could they possibly want from him?

Another swab sample? Another plea deal? For him to come to court for yet another missing persons case?

What?

"Sayer."

He turned around.

There was a young woman standing there, just a mere foot behind him. She was young, early twenties almost. Light brown skin lay claim to the pale, white walls around her, with dark locks tied in a neat, little bun behind her head. Bright blue, almost purple eyes gazed back at him, judging him without the slightest of effort. There was a pale, white folder tucked neatly away in her arms, along with a black pen that looked a bit too sharp for his tastes. She was dressed in a sleek, red dress, with a small, black jacket around her tiny shoulders. While she sounded calm, robotic, when he caught a glimpse at her expression, he shivered at her icy glare, so much so he almost slunk away from her.

"Sayer?" she repeated.

Dumbly, he nodded.

She sighed angrily, as swirled around, her heels sharply striking the ground. "I trust you know who I am?" she asked quietly, as she sat down in front of him with the same, intense look.

He only shook his head.

"Sarah," she stated calmly. She placed her elbows on the table, and leaned toward him. "Sarah Amrbosine."

He blinked, before cocking his head, just a tiny bit.

Amrbosine.

He's heard that name somewhere before.

"I'm with the Public Security Bureau," she continued. "I was assigned to your case. I can assure you that you're in good hands, alright?"

Mutely, he nodded.

She stared at him for a while, before closing her eyes, and opening up the white folder. "And if everything goes well," she began, as she splayed its contents all over the table, "you might even get out of here in the next few hours."

He gave her an incredulous look.

That was impossible; if someone had been working to free him for the past months, he would certainly know about it. And besides, who was she to order him around anyways? What'd she have to do with him?

"Sayer," she said in a hard voice. "I have the power to free you, without any legal struggle. I can get the court approval in a matter of hours; all you have to do is answer a simple question. Understand?"

"…Why?" he croaked.

"Pardon?"

Strange, how his voice sounded after all this time. Then again, he'd spent so much time by his lonesome, any sound may seem odd really, aside from the guards, of course. "Why're you…?"

"Because you can do something for me."

"…And-?"

"You're not really in any position to question my authority, are you?" Ms. Amrbosine hissed then, causing him to fall silent. She stared at him for a while, before she smirked, and gazed down at the neat pile of papers now lying in front of her. "Don't worry; it's not about you."

"…T-then who-?"

"Someone from the Arcadia Movement," she answered quickly. Carefully, she slid a photograph across the table, her fingertips lightly touching the edges. "Now, tell me; are you familiar with this person?"

Sayer leaned over, and immediately, his senses returned. He blinked then, as he regarded the woman evenly. "What'd you want from me?"

"A name."

Sayer gazed down at the photograph again. "He's not in the Movement."

"Our records show different."

The quiet persisted for a while, as he stared down at the photograph. He bit the inside of his cheek; he'd do anything, anything at all, to get out of here.

"Yusei," he said. "Yusei Fudo."

True to her word, in just a few hours, Sayer's appeal was issued. He was released from prison the very same day.