Angela examined her nails, trying to, at the very least look busy, though the annoyance was already showing on her face. Her long, blond hair was tied back into a neat ponytail, with that same, red jacket covering the wrinkles on her usually neat undershirt. It wasn't long before she checked her phone for anymore updates from her trusty interns. After a few moments of staring at the screen, she closed her eyes, and shoved the phone back in the jacket's pockets, which, of course, added to her irritation.

It was only a few days ago when she found out someone from her department had published an article on the Black Rose. Apparently, they believed there were links between the duelist herself, and the group of killers who wore those roses the other day, during that stupid hostage crisis. What's more, they put Angela herself as the author of the article. More than once she got called in from an incredibly pissed editor, only for her to tell him that she didn't write it. The article itself damaged Angela's already rocky reputation as a reporter, but what's more, it nearly destroyed the professional relationship she was cultivating with Yuki and his friend. That was the last thing she needed, but then again, what could she do, but tell them she wasn't the culprit? Why would they believe her, what with little progress she'd made on the case?

And yet, even if she did somehow convince them that she didn't write the article, Angela knew how much they admired Izinski. Whenever they thought Angela wasn't around, the only thing they'd talk about was whether or not the young woman was discharged from the hospital yet, or if there was any news from the doctors concerning her condition. Considering how so many reporters, including Angela, painted Izinski as the wicked Black Rose witch, it was only natural those two would be wary of her.

She sighed hopelessly. Right now, she was at the hospital, along with her many "colleagues." They were trying to get an interview with the hospital's director, to see what the stances were between the medical staff and the families, as well as Sector Security. From what she could understand, there's been a bit of a power struggle between both sides; the hospital wanted to do autopsies on the victims, but neither Sector Security nor the families were giving them permission. The controversy was so deep, especially with what'd happened at that mall. The public wanted answers as to what'd happened, and yet, at the same time, no one wanted to seem heartless enough that they'd actually desecrate the bodies.

She stared back at the crowds of reporters gathered around, all of whom were endeavoring to determine where the director's hiding place was. It wasn't long before she turned back to her empty space, playing with a single pen lying just a mere inch away.

The Black Rose was in this hospital, wasn't she?

Angela turned back.

The nurses and doctors were probably all too busy with their jobs to notice anyone. The security guards were trying to force the reporters out, and all the other staff were too busy handling the patients. Though her cameraman was swept away in the crowds, Angela could still get by with just a simple interview. And if Akiza isn't awake, she could always come back later.

So, with a huff, Angela swept to the back counter and looked through the sign-in sheets. The name Izinski glared up at her, with a simple date written beside it, as well as the room number. She smirked satisfyingly, then stole away from the crowd, and walked toward the elevators. Once she was safely inside, she shut the doors, and watched as the director timidly came out, only to be hounded by the same people he thought he'd gotten rid of.

Personally, Angela never really liked hospitals. The small of the antiseptic always gave her headaches, and whenever she saw needles, she couldn't move. The examination tables always felt icy to her, and if she saw those white lab coats, she would always look the other direction. She detested everyone in the healthcare field, and as far as she knew, they never really liked her either. In fact, ever since she became a reporter she only ever reported the bad stuff that happened in hospitals.

Slowly, as the numbers increased, the waiting music ringing in her ears, Angela began fumbling around for a notepad and pen. It's funny, how far she'd gotten. Even if what she was reporting on wasn't realistic, in the end, she was satisfied. Ever since she graduated from high school, it was as if everything had just fallen into place. There was nothing that didn't go her way, nothing she had to work hard for. Everyone bent backwards for her, and even now, when she was at the station, it was as if every popular story that came, she was there, at the right place, at the right time. Her life was so perfect it was eerie.

When the elevator stopped, and the doors opened, Angela took a deep breath, and came outside. She looked around; no one. She saw a tiny sign plastered onto the wall, and when she came toward it, her smile grew bigger. Room 1065, right?

As she passed the golden hallways, the serene pictures gazing back at her lovingly, she kept searching through her memories, feeling spoiled as she did. Perhaps the only thing that didn't really go her way, was anything that involved Goodwin. Well, that and this case. But then again, that was life, wasn't it? Witnessing the violence, as well as investigating it; though she didn't necessarily enjoy doing that, in the end, what choice did she have?

She came to a slow halt. The wooden, ornate door seemed to invite her in, the ostentatious handle ready for her to unlock. She simply stared at the thing for a while, before nodding, and walking toward it. Carefully, she knocked. Then, without another pause, she grabbed the handle and opened the door.

And then she saw her.

Izinski.

The girl was hooked up to so many different machines, some working, others not. Tubes were injected into her arms, with a clear liquid racing through the plastic. An oxygen mask was strapped to her face, and when Angela stepped just a bit closer, she could see bruises marred all over her limbs, freshly made bruises, with new scars wrapped around her throat. Her eyes were bandaged, her own hospital gown easily capturing her battered, helpless body. Her dark, velvet hair was splayed in every direction, something so very different from the way Angela was used to seeing people.

Angela bit her lip.

She shut the door behind her. Slowly, she walked closer, her eyes taking in the tubes, the needles, practically everything she found so very disturbing. And yet, she couldn't help but stare at the many IVs sitting next to her.

Still, she would've turned away, if not for the fact labels staring at her.

Diazepam.

Ketamine.

Brevital.

Lorazepam.

Anaspaz.

Levbid.

Levsin, Anectine, Nimbex, Orabase, Stadol, Talwin, Sublimaze.

And many more she couldn't even bear to look at.

Angela's lips parted slightly, as she touched the IV bags lightly.

Anesthesia drugs.

All of it.

And yet, there was one that caught her eye, one that, for some reason, she recognized.

Benzodiazepine.

Memory loss.

The reporter scrutinized the bag for a bit, before turning back to Akiza. From the corner of her eyes however, she saw a plain, manila folder sitting there, next to her bedside. Angela examined the girl for a bit more, then, without thinking, reached for the folder, and opened it.

120.

She was on more than 120 different drugs.

1,000mg.

60mg.

4,000mg.

10,000mg.

Angela quickly looked back at the heart monitor.

Steady.

Why?

Just then, Angela heard footsteps.

And voices.

Familiar voices.

She bit her lip, as she looked down at the files. She could get arrested for this. She could cause Izinski to lose her own life, with all this medication, and it'd be Angela's fault. And even if the duelist didn't die, Angela would be fired from her job. She'd be ruined, and her frighteningly perfect life would come to an end.

But she took the file anyways.

They trudged through the rain, the fat droplets splattering everywhere as they passed by. The dim lights from the nearby street lanterns gave little warmth to its tired wanderers, all of whom were busy trying to find their way home. Grey streets reflected back the stormy skies above, the blaring horns from the cars from just a few feet away adding to the torrents. Heavily coated silhouettes passed them lazily, all the warm glow from the businesses nearby callously brushed aside by the onlookers, all of whom dreamt only of a single, quiet hearth to call their own.

It wasn't long before the two finally reached a small square, not too far from the city, filled with buildings and apartments. A large, broken clock loomed over the square, though the residences never bothered taking any notice of it. Grey and brown entwined together within the gloomy atmosphere, the cloudy windows reflecting back the relaxing tension dissipating throughout the air.

They were both in their school uniforms, Jaden and Alexis, as they stood underneath a big, black umbrella. They were in front of Yusei's apartment, the lights from the windows brightly shimmering even from far away. Unfamiliar shadows grazed the glass, and though the shapes were blurry, the two could still make out the figures inside. Their eyes settled to one single figure sitting there, with his back turned to them. They stared at him for a while, before Alexis turned to Jaden with a coy smile on her face. "You wanted this."

"Shut it," he murmured anxiously. "We're here for business."

"Right," she replied playfully, as she gripped the umbrella's handle tightly. "Official business. You know, I thought this was supposed to be "our" secret. But we're getting Yusei involved now-"

"Not that," Jaden rectified, as he stole the handle away from her and shooed her to the door. "We just wanted to know if Aki's okay. Remember? That stupid doctor isn't saying anything-"

"So…this has nothing to do with the hijacking?"

"No," he answered, closing the umbrella. "Besides, we don't have time for that. The morgue will close soon."

"I'm not giving those credit cards back."

"Of course not," he sighed. He looked up at that old door, before raising his knuckles and knocking on it. Usually, the garage would be open, but since it was raining, Yusei probably doesn't want the duel runners getting wet.

A very important thought came to him then. "What'd you buy with the money?" he asked then.

"That new dollhouse," she answered. "You know, the one on the commercial."

"I still can't believe you play with those creepy things."

"Screw you; they're cute."

A second later, the door swung open.

There was a redheaded man standing there, a bit older than Jaden. He had those same, yellow markings Yusei had, one on both his cheeks, the last on his forehead. He wore a green headband, with two, silver rings off to the side. Dark grey eyes stared back at Jaden, and when they looked down, they saw a yellow jacket over his orange undershirt. It wasn't long before Alexis cocked her head. "Huh, you work for that new fast food place down the road, right?"

The man stared at her for a while, before turning to Jaden. "Can I help you with something?"

"Is Yusei there?"

Immediately, his gaze softened. He opened the door wider, as he turned back. "Hey, Yusei!"

"Still working!"

The man turned back with an apologetic smile on his face. "You mind waiting?"

Jaden nodded gratefully, before looking over the man's shoulder. "Hey, bestest friend in the whole world! You there?"

A split second later, Yusei stood behind the man, the surprise etched onto his face. Jaden bit the inside of his cheek, and turned his gaze elsewhere, a subtle frown grazing his lips. All the while, Alexis came from behind him, and waved at him happily. "We came!" she stated.

Jaden could feel Yusei scrutinizing him, both he and Alexis; that afternoon in the hospital was still in his mind. After a few more seconds, Jaden started kicking himself; Yusei's probably wondering what kind of trouble they got themselves into now. And there was no doubt Jaden was going to have to apologize to him, and right in front of her…

"So that's Alexis," he heard Yusei say.

Jaden's eyes widened.

He couldn't help but turn back.

All the while, the rain steadily poured onto the two.

"So?" he heard himself ask. "You gonna let us in or what?"

The man blinked. "What's your problem?"

Yusei placed a single hand on the man's shoulder. "Let them through Crow," he said. "They're cool."

Crow hesitated for a brief second, as he turned back to the two. Then, in that same moment, he shoved himself away from the door, and let them pass.

Jaden stole a quick glance at Alexis, who was now happily bouncing into the room, taking in the familiarity of garage, the duel runners, everything. It doesn't look like she heard Yusei, but when she turned back, an expectant smile on her face, Jaden couldn't help but trail in. When Yusei closed the door, he turned back. "This joke is starting to get old."

Yusei narrowed his eyes. "What joke?"

"You really don't know her?"

"I-"

"Yusei!" Alexis called then. Both Jaden and Yusei looked down, only to find the blonde at the bottom of the stairway, examining the duel runners. The rider, Jack Atlas, had only noticed her just now, and was beginning to complain about her touching it. "You finish with the engine yet?" she asked.

Yusei stole a gaze toward Jaden, who regarded him with that same, unbelieving face. "You told her, remember?" he pressed quietly. "She even helped you buy some of the parts."

"N-not yet," the man replied. He slid his gaze uncertain, yet icy gaze to Jaden. "So is that it then?"

"No; I just wanted to see if you've heard anything from Akiza."

"I haven't," he answered stoically. "You're welcome to stay here though, until the rain lets up."

Jaden closed his eyes briefly, before opening them. "We can't. We've got somewhere to be. Hey, Lex-"

"WHAT THE DEUCE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"

Jaden jolted, and looked back down at the stares. He caught the girl standing there, her hands covered in ash and soot, while touching a white duel runner. Confusion marred her expression, as she stared at Atlas, who was now fuming. "Watch where you put those filthy hands of yours!" he screeched.

Alexis blinked, before looking at her own palms. "This was already on there."

"Are you kidding me? Look at it! Before you touched her, she was perfect!"

"She?"

Jack swirled around to Yusei. "Yusei! She's with you, right?"

Jaden turned to Yusei, who had an incredibly amused smile on his face. "Calm down Jack," he said after a while. When he looked down at Alexis, her face immediately brightened. Then, without warning, she started to giggle. "Hey! Aki's not the only reason why we're here, right?"

Jaden blinked. "What? What're you-?"

"Yus, we want to do something, but we need your help again," she shouted, as she bounded up the stairs, leaving Jack to deal with his sullied runner. Yusei paused for a single moment, his own reluctance steadily drawing him back, before nodding. "What is it?"

"Here's the thing," she continued, the grin she carried quickly fading from her face. "You were there with Aki during the hijacking, right? We were just wondering if you saw anything weird."

"Weird?"

Jaden sighed exasperatedly. "It's nothing. Alexis, we need to go-"

"Remember the case Jaden's working on?" the girl said, effectively ignoring the death glare she was receiving. "You know, the one with the serial killer?"

"…Yeah…?"

"Apparently, the hijacking was linked to the murders, and the ones who held all those people hostage were responsible for them. Right now, we're trying to find a connection between the hijackers, and the politicians, so-"

"Okay," Jaden interrupted, as he stepped forward, and grabbed her arm. "That's enough."

"W-wait!" Alexis chimed, forcibly dragging Jaden back. She turned to Yusei with a wide grin. "We'll be okay. You don't have to worry about anything!"

"Alexis-"

"And Aki really misses you, so hurry up and win this tournament, okay?"

"We're going."

Before she could say anymore, Jaden grabbed both her arms, and led her away.

Bloodstained fingers.

All over bloodstained limbs.

With a scarlet sky staring overhead, the scent of iron diffusing through the air.

She lay there, on the cold ground. Dried, salty streams lay on her cheeks, the searing pain burning from every part of her body. Tiny, desperate breaths escaped from her rotting lungs, as her body tried grasping for air, only to fail in the process. Her nails kept clawing at the ground, her heart pounding throughout her head with all its vivaciousness. Hazy shapes splayed themselves across her vision, the black and grey entwining gracelessly throughout the scene. She could see them there, those familiar faces.

Faces she's seen before.

Faces she's loved time and time again.

And yet, there was one face that caught her eyes. Kindhearted, compassionate, a bit stubborn at times, mysterious, though completely predictable; a face she enjoyed having around, a face she liked talking with, though in the end, one she knew she couldn't trust. Lies upon lies upon lies upon lies, all of which fell from her own lips. But then, she knew that wasn't fair; the face repeated the same lies back at her.

Akiza!

That face had a body, a silhouette to call its own. A shadow, which formed beneath even the most tainted of lights, even along the edge of that sinful evening. It wore all black, an unpleasant, yet forgettable memory slowly fading within the depths of her mind. Ah, and it had a rose too. A black rose, with very, very sharp thorns.

You're gonna be alright.

Then, she felt her own lips move.

There was a lot of screaming, at that moment. A lot of screaming, a lot of shouting, the demands swirling up into the air, like an insignificant hymn everyone tended to ignore, or a line from a prayer not one dared to say. And the shadow's voice followed those demands, easily trailing after it in quiet mourning. Lachrymose coated those words, and by the time Akiza could finally make out what it was saying, she simply closed her eyes.

She was saying something else, something important, and yet, for some reason, it refused to listen. It caressed her battered body, gripping it tightly in its arms. It was as if once it let her go, she'd vanish, along with the rest of the faces surrounding her. It was trembling, the shadow, refusing to believe a single thing she said, brushing aside anything she had to tell it. She drew a shallow, haggard breath, and though she could've stopped, she kept on with her words, no matter how painful it felt, no matter how badly she wanted to crumble beneath her weariness. And when she was done, the shaking stopped. Carefully, it let her go then.

You really are loyal, she heard herself say.

And then she woke up.

Akiza blinked, as she stared up at the white ceiling in front of her.

Her father sat worriedly at her bedside, with dark shadows beneath his eyes. Her mother was behind him, with the same expression on her face.

A man stood there, with a white coat, and a pleasantly relieved smile on his face.

And a woman, with the same coat, who was just a few feet next to him.

There was a low thudding in the back of her head.

She paused for a moment, trying to get a bearing of her surroundings, before slowly sitting up, the weight of her own hair keeping her anchored to the bed. Though everyone shot out of their spots, trying to help her in any way possible, she managed on her own. She saw the white cast on her arm, and when she looked up, another on her leg. She felt a bit dizzy, a little nauseous, though she simply took a deep breath, and concentrated.

Where was she?

"Darling!" her mother whispered, as she rushed toward her daughter, gripping her hand with both.

"Sweetheart," the man, the doctor rather, began, as he set himself in a chair across from her. "How do you feel?"

Akiza blinked, as she scanned the room once again.

The hospital.

"W-what happened?" she croaked.

"A very bad situation, but the police got you out," the man said. "You've suffered a broken arm and leg, a lot of internal bleeding, so much so we had to give you a transfusion."

"I…"

"Akiza," she heard her father say then. "I'm…I'm glad you're alright-"

She didn't hear anything else, as she turned to the windows.

Raining.

If she looked down, she could see a turbulent stream of cars coming down the highways, the brights lights almost blinding her. Loud honks noisily sounded throughout the air, resounding from across the walls without the slightest hesitation.

"W-what-?" she began, only to be interrupted by her mother. "It's alright now. You're going to be okay."

Okay.

She was going to be okay.

Akiza looked up then. "There was…there was an accident, wasn't there?"

Her father narrowed his eyes, as he leaned over. "Do you…can you tell us what happened? By the time we got here, you were already in the hospital, and…well…"

There was an accident.

There was an accident, and she was involved.

And suddenly, she was giggling.

"I'm sorry," she said after a while. "I'm just…I'm just really clumsy."

"Go on," the doctor urged.

"I was walking down the street, with something in my hand," Akiza explained, the memory slowly coming back to her. "I can't remember what it was, but I dropped it on the street. I ran in after it, and the next thing I know, I was on the ground."

Her mother stared at her, the shock already obvious on her face. "Sweetheart!"

"You know better than that," her father chided.

Akiza nodded. "Right."