Sayer leaned against the wall, tightly gripping his bleeding arm, the painful throbbing in his skull forcing him to stop. He bit down on his tongue to keep himself from screaming, all the while endeavoring to hold himself steady, his darkly stained fingers already garnering enough of his attention. His sleeve was drenched crimson, and scorch marks covered his nearly broken neck. Though his deck was safely in his pocket, however ruined they were, it weighed him down, like an anchor dragging him to the bottom of a seemingly endless ocean. His lungs were burning, and when he drew yet another breath, a sharp pang ache stabbed his chest. It wasn't long before he slammed himself to the ground, the stagnant air from the seemingly abandoned streets slaying him so very easily.

He stared down at the the gaping hole in his arm, the torn shreds of fabric messily covering it without the slightest bit of effort. He turned his attention to his left leg, which was so horribly twisted he had to wonder just how he managed to get this far. He was about to reach down and cradle it, when he stopped, emptily reminding himself of what'd happened the last time he tried doing that. From the corner of his eyes, he could see the tiny droplets of blood covering the clean pavement, the overbearing darkness not even bothering to shroud the fragile things away. He regarded it for some time, as he dug his phone out of his pocket, his trembling fingers slowly hovering over the numbers. That familiar humiliation resounded throughout his body, but soon, it was quickly replaced by shock, by horror, anything at all.

He'd never forget the expression Yusei had on his face. That blank stare, his dull eyes easily capturing any light swirling around it, the way those flames seemingly bended to the boy's will. Icy blue orbs stared Sayer down, with a simple glower that froze him in his place, never once letting him leave from their sight. He just stood there, with that same, rusty pipe in his hands. That same, simple frown came back to him, as he looked Sayer with that face, one that showed neither fear, nor resentment, nor pity, nor anger. Rather, something else had taken hold of the boy, a complex thought Sayer didn't want to touch, or a psychotic thought he didn't want to delve into.

During that night, Sayer had Yusei cornered. Psychic Commander would've blown him to bits, and if that didn't work, his little friend would've come and torn him apart. He still had two hours left before the evacuation was over, and since Yusei had nowhere else to hide, Sayer planned on dragging it out for as long as he could. And yet, despite his efforts, somehow, that Satellite managed to turn the tables. He not only took the Commander out, but he also decimated the monster Amrbosine gave him. And before he knew it, he was there, with Yusei charging for him, that a piercing, metal pipe in his hands.

It was then Sayer fell. All the breath was forced out of his body, as he began coughing up tiny, dark things, with blood oozing from his mouth. He could feel something twisting his leg, snapping every rib he had, breaking every bone, smashing every vein. And when he looked up, he could see the flames surrounding him, the embers burning him carelessly, recklessly. Feral flames, which were growing more and more out of control, held fast to the smoke clouding his vision. There was nothing left for Sayer could do, save writhe in agony as the torment went on. The only reason he even managed to escape was the fact Yusei had collapsed; at that instant, everything had vanished, leaving Sayer to hobble away.

Sayer clutched his phone fearfully, as he pressed the thing against his ear, taking care not to scream at the searing injuries coated throughout his body.

Organizing the evacuation, getting Yusei alone, all just to see this…this monster. That monster was here, living with the very same people who persecuted Sayer, who mocked only Sayer, who tried everything they could just to wipe Sayer and others like him off the face of the earth.

And here Yusei was, just living off those people like it's nothing.

Sayer bit down a harsh laugh, wincing at the sharp pain that erupted from in his chest. This might be what they call situational irony; if Sayer had met Yusei before, he probably would've asked the boy to join the Movement. There was no way he could go up to Yusei now, after what he'd just seen. In fact, if he thought Akiza was so risky, Yusei might as well have pushed the Movement over the edge.

"Hello?" a sly, arrogant voice asked.

He gritted his teeth, his hands threatening to destroy the phone as he did. "…I did what…I did what you-"

"I know," Amrbosine replied demurely. "When you asked me to handle the evacuation, you were already up to something, weren't you? The reason why you're calling now is because-"

"I already did your damn dirty work," he hissed quietly, as he stared at the grey walls in front of him, the mold already covering some of the corners. "He's psychic."

"Is that what you're calling him?"

"Yusei's a damn psychic."

"I take it you've already done your research."

"Whatever," he dismissed, his eyes flickering to his leg. "Get someone over here."

"Don't worry, my men are already on their way. You're in the old residential area, just a few miles away from the boundary line, right? I'm impressed that you got that far, what with your condition and all."

He narrowed his eyes. "So you were watching."

"Naturally."

From the corner of his eyes, he could see a few familiar shadows scampering about. And along with it, voices he knew all too well. The evacuation drill wasn't supposed to end, at least, not until another ten minutes. "Where are you?" he growled.

"Just a few minutes more," she reassured. "I've already set a room up for you in the hospital, so you can rest easy." And with that, she hung up, leaving Sayer alone to deal with the silence. He sighed, as he shoved the phone back into his pocket.

There was really was nothing he could do, but just sit here, and wait.

And yet, even as he did, those strange memories still circled back to him, the abnormalities of the day pounding against his skull. If this was the proof that woman was talking about, there was no way Sayer could ignore it, even if he wanted to. With the way he dueled Akiza back at the Fortune Cup, Sayer never suspected that Satellite for one bit. The very fact that he played the hero for the city, without a single mistake in his character; a true actor, a perfect liar. He seemed so genuine, even in Sayer's eyes.

But those tiny oddities came rushing back to him; the checks being awarded to the Arcadia Movement, the seemingly all-powerful monopoly he already had on the officials, the coincidence that the same officials were murdered, all by a group that hijacked a mall just days before. Even after all this, it was still hard to believe that Goodwin wasn't the culprit. The age-old bank account, the investments, all of which were still there, and everything else; it was all there, like the many scandals Sayer was employed to keep hidden.

He closed his eyes then, and sighed. Yusei Fudo, a fabrication of some stranger who probably didn't even have the right to be here. A monster who managed to fool everyone, who slipped between the cracks and went on living, as if nothing had ever happened. A manipulative bastard whose history was a complete mystery, whose powers were dangerous, the very same insanity flowing menacingly throughout his veins.

Sayer couldn't help but laugh.

Yusei was even worse than he is.

She sat back in her chair, bangs over her eyes, as she took in the silence. Tiny remnants of light still peeked out from the midnight blue, those bright, crisp stars contrasting to the shadows around them. Outside, she could hear the crowds roar on, as they struggled to go back to their old lives, all the while avariciously savoring those exciting, somewhat unpredictable moments. She could hear cars honking from behind the thin windows, the lively conversations taking place from just outside the building. She could hear every single voice fading gradually, as they all resumed their lives, with only but this memory to call their own. If she turned back, she might even see a few of her men down there, trying to get everyone up and running again, perhaps even fending off interrogations from curious bystanders.

In all honesty, she didn't expect Sayer to still be alive. Miraculous even, or at least, not when she last saw the witch; considering the injuries that idiot suffered from. But in the end, it doesn't matter; Sayer's seen what he's seen, and since he was a very prideful man, more than likely he'd want to challenge Izinski again. Though she did feel a bit sorry for him, his own ambition was just what she needed. And who knows? Maybe he might even rise up the ranks, become a higher ranked officer within the organization. It'll take him a while to get used to his own position, but even he should be able to recognize his current situation.

She closed her eyes, her fingers lightly drumming along the lines of the table. How long has it been since she started this hunt? How many decades have passed when she finally decided to hunt down the Black Rose, and annihilate him and his covens, not just for the things he's done, but for the countless number of lives lost during the fight, with so many children tossed aside if only for his own life? She'd forgotten how easily time passed by her, how quietly it seemed to move, without the slightest hints of it being there. It was haunting, that aspect, the notion that there was something wrong with her perception of things, from life, to reality, to dreams, to morals, to the fact that even the nightmares that came between. Tiny glimpses of the past, only to reveal themselves in a very unpleasant manner; what a very sinful way to live.

Softly, she turned around in that simple, black chair, and sat up. She rubbed her temples, the thoughts swirling around her head as pondered on them. It has been almost 18 years since the Black Rose had disappeared. Through his own coven she managed to find cooperative spies, but even they tell her that they haven't seen him. It was as if he'd fallen off the face of the earth, vanished without a trace, without a single hint of where he was heading. Perhaps he was just some dirty coward, trying to hide himself from the victims he knew he'd wronged, or maybe he'd died, and was buried somewhere in a shallow grave, where all the maggots had eaten his eyes out. Yes, that'd be the best scenario.

And yet, judging from the files she managed to secure from the city, as well as Sayer's recent encounter, it seems he was far from dead.

But it was too risky to move in yet. After all, Yusei Fudo was the hero of Neo Domino City. He's the King of Turbo Dueling, and wherever he goes, adoring fans would always follow. He's affiliated with Jack Atlas, with Sector Security, and even in this pathetic persona, he already has a bit of political influence, even if he started out as a nobody from the Satellite. Just coming near him was difficult enough; the city, as well as a majority of the covens, still belong to the Black Rose.

At the same time, she wouldn't let that deter her. Fallen was almost exterminated by the previous witch, and there was no way Sarah would let that happen again. She'd come too far just to let it sink back in the depths of depravity. Too many people relied on Fallen now, and she couldn't afford to let them down. Besides which, there are other people, just like her, who wanted that bastard dead, powerful people, who wanted to make the world a better place, if only for that delicious thought of seeing his ugly face on death rose.

Then of course, even the most ugliest of roses had thorns.

Just then, her phone rang.

Slowly, she sat up, and read the collar ID; the Security Bureau. She narrowed her eyes, then grabbed the black thing and pressed against her ear. "Hello?"

"Ms. Amrbosine," one of the scientists said, the panic evident in his voice. Before long, he started stuttering all over, fumbling around with whatever words he was going to say. Sarah couldn't help but chuckle a little. "What is it?" she asked when she settled down, in the same, formal tone she used with everyone.

"We found something we want you to look at," he said quietly.

She narrowed her eyes. "If the Bureau getting sued again, just bribe the judge. I'm sure he'll be more than happy to-"

"No ma'am," he answered. "It's about a reporter. Ms. Angela Raines, I believe?"

"What about her?"

"Well, no…it's not her, per say. Well, it is, but there's something else too. I'll send you the files."

"Fine."

"We ah," he added, clearing his throat as he did so, "we also have a defector."

"Defector?"

"Y-yes. Two, actually."

Flickering lights slowly died away from the shadows, the hollow wind resonating through the quiet. Metallic walls protected those lingering shadows from the cold, though their rusted appearance made it had for them to stay quiet. The holes in the ceiling scarcely hid the ghoulish moonlight from above, which illuminated the cobwebs in the corner, along with the ruined appearance of the edifice. The unstable columns were already giving way to even the tiniest of insects, yet even then, there was no room for disappointment. In fact, the atmosphere was incredibly lively, despite the dismal prospect of hollow victory, along with the fact that it might be abused again. All the same, it somehow ignored the silence coating its once loud tongue, and kept in mind the glorious days it once reigned, its delusional happiness scarcely knowing no bounds. As it kept up with this lie, the warehouse simply sat there, taking in its own neglect, the abandonment caressing every breeze that came through.

There were four shadows there, all of which led to four figures, standing alone in the darkness. All had pale, skin, their similar features eerily mirroring each other in graceless tact. They all had white scrubs on, clinging to their emaciated frames like a lifeboat. None had hair; only wounds covered their skulls, grotesque wounds, disgusting wounds, wounds with stitches, bleeding wounds, wounds that kept oozing out fluids, possibly any wound at all. Long, yellow nails came from their side, their cracked lips moving to the sounds of nonexistent words built up inside their throats. Each person had a single, vertical violet diamond, drawn over their left eye, a testament to the facade they were willing to play.

They kept shifting their weight from one leg to the next, anxiously waiting for their special something to show. They moved their mouths, pretending to whisper excitedly about the event that would transpire tonight, at the plainly distant nightmare so callously laid out in front of them. They were enjoying themselves, almost, seemingly waiting for someone famous. A celebrity? Perhaps a politician or two? Maybe even one of those models who kept appearing at every execution.

"Everyone," a single, lone voice called out.

They all stopped their clamor, and turned. A young girl stood there, with a petite smile on her face. Black hair came down her shoulders, with sparkling, green eyes to go with it. Her ivory skin contrasted so dearly to her bright red lips, a feature they all found enchanting. She was in that same, black dress again, as she had been for the past few decades, with her signature rose attached to her own neck. She paused for a moment, taking in their enthusiastic reactions, their claps, before she nodded, the pleasant air easing their tension. "How is everyone tonight?"

Good, they all seemed to say.

"I trust the Jack of Diamonds is doing well?"

They all snickered.

The girl smirked, before looking up toward the moon, her eyes softening at its eerie glare. "You know, there's something I don't understand about this world. Seems everyone these days is only after the title, nothing more. Can you believe it?"

They snorted in disgust.

"I can't believe it either. Especially with Fallen closing in, this is no time to start fighting amongst ourselves. But still, they all persist. I even heard from one of the knights that Drevis was making his move. And after all this time, after everything the witch has done for him; an utter betrayal, in my opinion."

Yes indeed.

"He should die, shouldn't he?"

Yes, he should.

"And yet, despite all that, I still feel sorry for him, as for everyone else caught up in their own foolishness. I don't understand the obsession they have with this," she said, swinging her arms wildly in front of her, the empty space passing her with ease. "I mean, if he wanted to, he really could destroy them, you know?"

Yes, he can.

"Speaking of which," she added, "what about that woman?"

Woman?

"Yes," she said dully, her amiable smile immediately disappearing from her lips. "That woman. She's always around him, and really, it's getting out of hand."

Only silence.

And yet, the young girl snorted. "He doesn't have time for such things. And he already has two Queens."

Ah, her.

"Anyways, she'll be dead in the next few weeks," she muttered, that innocent light coming away from her eyes. "There's no reason why he should spend so much time with her."

At that moment, quiet laughter echoed throughout the warehouse. "Looks like someone's jealous."

She narrowed her eyes, and turned to the voice. She froze then, her mouth snapping shut, the color drained from her face. Her haughty smirk disappeared, replaced by a fearful gaze that held none of the confidence she had before.

The Black Rose.

And yet, as soon as she saw him, her lips parted slightly, her eyes wide with shock, she turned away, scoffing at the ludicrous thought. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, the disgust already evident in her features. "Of that thing?" she muttered. "Don't make me laugh. And don't use that form either; you look ridiculous."

The creature laughed, as it settled against a nearby column. Suspicious eyes surveyed the pawns around her, but then he turned back to her, a cautious smile dancing on his lips. "Ridiculous? From the looks of things, you seem to like staring at him a lot. Normally, I'd blush, but…"

"Just shut it," she barked, causing the pawns to flinch. With an amused grin, it stared out at the others, then looked back at her. "I take it they're your spies? What would the commander think of that?"

"You're one to talk," she stated icily. "Salem, you're facilitating the game, aren't you?"

"Now, now, no need to get so testy. I swear Ophelia, one of these days that devotion will be the end of you."

"Funny."

"And when that happens, I'll be sitting right beside you, laughing my ass off-"

"What is it?" she demanded then, resting the urge to slap the creature, if only to keep what little dignity she had left. "What could be so important-?"

"This game," he repeated arrogantly, perfectly imitating her tone just moments before, "is supposed to weed out all the weaklings, for when we fight Fallen again. And besides, you supported the idea, didn't you?"

He grinned at her wince, and continued. "As for that woman, well, that's none of your business now, is it? What are you anyways? A knight? A pawn? How long as it been since you've conversed with our lord anyways?"

She was taken back. "I-!"

"And who knows? This could get interesting," he explained further, folding his arms in front of his chest. "Everyone wants the title, or, at the very least, the position of Queen. Who wouldn't give an arm or leg to be that close to the Black Rose?"

She didn't answer.

"Well?"

"Get out," she said in a hard voice.

Salem rose his hands, that irritating, relaxed expression on his face. "My, how boorish. No wonder he threw you away-"

"Get out." she said again, the beautiful moonlight fading from her completely.