DD: Hey guys! (Look at those double digits!) So this came out sooner than I thought it would, especially given the length. I've beaten my record; fifty four pages and over ten thousand words! I'm so, so sorry for putting you guys through this. Oh, and trust me, there's more to come. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy!
The room was white and smelled like the plastic gloves the doctor had worn before he cleaned Ryou's mom's arm and slid the needle through her pale skin.
A slow, low beep rang through the room every few seconds. A thin wire ran from the machine by Akemi Bakura's bed up to her nose and around her head.
She lay in her bed, watching as Ryou scribbled in the notebook she had gotten him for his birthday. She smiled at him. "Do you like it, Ry?"
Ryou's pencil stilled above the page and he glanced over at his father.
Akemi followed his gaze and gave him a reassuring smile. "It's okay, bunny. He's asleep."
Ryou giggled at the name. "I'm not a bunny, mama."
Akemi grinned. "Oh, but you are," she disagreed. "You're my little bunny." She reached out and ran her fingers through his long, white hair. It was down past his shoulders now; he had refused to cut his hair until she was better. "What are you writing about?"
Ryou looked up at her. "You," he replied. "I wanted to write a story about you with- about you having l-l-"
"Leukaemia?" Akemi suggested, her voice quieter than before. Ryou nodded. She forced a small chuckle. "I'm not a very interesting person. You should make someone else."
"But you are." Ryou's smile grew and he passed his notebook to her. "Look."
She flicked through the pages. In his small handwriting, he had filled in twenty of them. "This is amazing." She muffled a cough. "Are you going to write more?"
Ryou nodded. "Yeah. I want to be one when I'm older."
Akemi smiled. "Good. The world will be lucky if you do." She yawned softly.
Ryou took his notebook and closed it. "Do you want a nap?"
Akemi nodded and opened her arms. "Come here, Ry."
Ryou set his notebook on his chair and climbed onto the bed, lying in her arms.
She kissed the top of his head, holding him closer. "I love you," she whispered, "and I'll always be looking out for you. No matter what."
Ryou only nuzzled into her shoulder. "I love you too, mama."
Akemi smiled. "You're so brave." She swallowed. "My brave little bunny." She began running her fingers through his hair again as they closed their eyes.
Ryou slowly slid to the side as they traipsed into sleep. The thin, clear tube lay trapped between his hip and the bed.
Akemi didn't react to the lack of oxygen.
Neither of them did.
Not until Ryou's father screamed; Ryou woke up, and Akemi didn't.
The Draughtsmen walked. It wasn't safe enough to run at the moment; not until the others were used to the night escapades.
The Artist glanced over at Dove. You okay? He signed.
Dove smiled and nodded, despite his laboured breathing. I'm fine.
Dove had been teaching them all basic BSL. It was a much safer way of communicating on a mission than talking, especially with seven of them.
With signing, even if they were caught on camera, it would be hard to be identified.
If they talked on the other hand, they would have to hiss a name or two to get the attention of one another.
Even if they didn't use ICU names – if they used codenames, or their original names – their voices could be recognised or recorded.
With signing, they could easily communicate with less fear.
The Artist nodded and turned forwards again. He couldn't look away for too long; he had to keep an eye on the front.
They had set up a circle before leaving.
The Artist would go in front, Diabound and Strix on either side, Giraffe and Dove in the middle, and Blue and Polar in the back.
The Artist had worked out what the language crossovers were so they could bring the most languages with the least amount of people.
A few people had been annoyed that they couldn't go; Skele in particular. He had wanted to avenge Grizzly.
But he couldn't. The Artist had assured him that his time would come, and that the best way to avenge Grizzly was to keep everyone safe until they got out.
Reluctantly, Skele had agreed to play lookout back at his coffin along with the others. The coffins had been rigged to stay dark again; but they only had so much time to do it.
The Artist paused and held up his hand so the others would do the same.
Cameras, he signed. Jump where I do.
After a few more steps, he jumped. Strix jumped at the same time rather than the same place, narrowly missing the sensor beam's radius.
The Artist glared at him. "What do you think you're doing?" He hissed. He didn't know quite enough sign language yet, and there were no microphones nearby. "Pay attention; I said where, not when. Mess up and we could easily die."
Strix nodded. Sorry, he signed.
The Artist rolled his eyes and turned forward again, walking. Soon, they reached it.
Ready?
Everyone nodded and the Artist passed out cans of paint – different colours. Red, yellow, orange, green, blue, purple.
Unironically, the rainbow.
The Artist glanced over everyone as he passed them out. Gloves on, faces and heads covered, no glimpse of hair or skin on anyone – even with Dove and Polar's long hair.
Good. Maybe they could escape the mission without another of his own blunders.
He turned forward. Diabound. Go.
Diabound nodded and scaled building using the ledges in the white-wooden walls as footholds. Polar followed him after a nod from the Artist.
At a flick of his fingers, Strix and Giraffe scaled half of the building, using a window pane for a foothold once they stopped.
The Artist, Dove and Blue stayed on the ground. At another nod, they all took out whatever colour can they had been given and began.
Zorc strode through the stark halls, his leader and visitors badges clinking together every few seconds. The sound grated on his spine.
He glanced into the cell. "Her."
One of the six guards with him nodded and stayed by the cell while the others kept walking with him.
After a few more minutes, Zorc peered through another set of bars. "Them."
Another guard stayed, and the others continued.
Zorc paused again, glancing between two adjacent cells. "Both of them." Two guards stayed.
He glanced into a few cells and kept walking. At one in particular, he didn't speak. He just pointed. One guard stayed and the last walked with him.
It only took a few more cells for him to leave the last guard and walk to the room he had been allocated.
They would come to him soon enough.
The room had been set up like a conference room. Six chairs sat in front of a lectern.
Unlike most conference rooms, the chairs had iron staples that locked on and held a person's wrists and ankles in place.
That would have been convenient in schools. Unfortunately, Pegasus deemed it unnecessary.
One day.
Zorc looked up as the door opened and he moved behind the lectern.
Six prisoners were led in, some kicking and screaming, others walking and chatting with the guard, and one just glaring at the ground.
They were all led to a chair and buckled into it.
One of the screamers calmed down once he was chained down, but the other just kept bucking and squirming.
Zorc glanced over everyone he had picked.
Vivian, section twenty two. Rally, section forty nine. Kite, section thirty seven. Cathy, section eleven. Chazz, section three. Valon, section fifty.
Zorc grinned, at Chazz more so that the others. "My, how the mighty have fallen."
Chazz scowled at him. "What do you want?"
Zorc ignored his question and glanced over them all. "Grimm." He pointed a remote control lying on the lectern at the screen behind him. Chazz's mug-shot appeared. "Arrested for assaulting a shop owner."
Chazz's scowl deepened. "He was being a fucking perve!" He protested.
Zorc ignored him and pressed another button. Cathy's mug-shot appeared. "Sphinx, arrested for breaking and entering into the animal shelter and trying to liberate the pets – for the third time."
Cathy held his gaze evenly.
He clicked another button. Kite's mug-shot appeared. "Zip, arrested for being out of your unit three times in one month – and being in another section."
Kite glared.
Another button revealed Valon's mug-shot. "Dingo, arrested for driving a stolen motorbike at unsafe speeds around the ICU, damaging property, and resisting arrest."
Valon grinned, his eyes lighting up at the memory. "Yeah, that was a fun way to start the week."
Zorc pressed another, and Rally's mug-shot appeared. "Scooter, arrested for mimicking the Artist in the icuSquare."
"And I'd do it again," Rally muttered under their breath.
Zorc pretended not to hear them as he pressed another button. Vivian's appeared. "Draco, arrested for assaulting one of the club workers a few nights ago – your sixth assault in a month."
Vivian shrugged, peering down at her nails and flexing her wrists as best as she could with the cuffs. "What about it?"
"All six of you are going to be stuck here for a while," Zorc said, pressing another button. "Unless you happen to be interested in helping." He turned and pointed to the screen. Vivian looked up from her nails. "As you know, the Artist has been plaguing us for a few months. In the past few hours, we have been led to believe that he has rallied a few more people under his control."
"Like a group of wannabes?" Chazz raised an eyebrow.
"Not quite." Zorc glanced at him. "They're not mimics like Scooter. They work for him."
"Or her," Vivian cut in.
"Or them," Rally added.
Zorc shot them both a warning look. Rally shrank back but Vivian held his glare with a cute smirk.
"As I was saying-" Zorc glanced back at Chazz. "-this makes them all the more dangerous. With masses come power." He changed the direction of his gaze, focusing on each of them in turn. "With small bits of power come demands for more, and more, and more. We can't let them have even a smidge of the power they're clawing for."
"And where do we come into this?" Valon asked. "Some sort of antithesis to the thesis?" Zorc's lip quirked. "You're kidding."
"What?" Vivian frowned. "Ant- what?"
"He's basically saying he wants us to be the villains," Cathy muttered. "The good guys have a group, so the bad guys want one to even the score."
Zorc glared. "Excuse me?" The room went quiet. "Excuse me?" His glare focused on Cathy. Her eyes flickered down. "The Artist is the villain here; disrupting the peace, brainwashing, murder, need I go on?"
"The Artist never killed anybody!" Rally insisted.
"The Artist was the only reason that Grizzly from section seventeen died," Zorc snapped. "If it wasn't for them, he would still be alive, and graduating next year. He would have been one of the first to leave the ICU once we have the technology to make Mars inhabitable. He would have lived if it wasn't for them."
Rally looked like they wanted to argue, but looked down, fists clenched.
Zorc sighed through his nose, his glare easing. "But, essentially, yes. An antithesis to a thesis. We want a group to counter the Artist's group; undo any threats they have caused, instil a sense of security again." He smiled. "But, of course, it is your decision."
Vivian bit the tip of her tongue, head cocked. "Do we get anything for it?"
"Reduced jail sentence, payment if you continue once you leave," Zorc listed.
After a moment, Kite shook his head. "As good as it sounds, I've done enough. I probably wouldn't be much of an asset. I'll just do my time."
Zorc nodded. "I see. Very well. I hope you don't regret your decision." He looked at the guard who had escorted Kite and nodded.
The guard walked over, toying with a wire in his hands. No one paid attention.
Until the wire wound around Kite's neck and the guard pulled.
The chair was fastened to the ground, and caught between the pull of the wire and the chair, blood began seeping from Kite's neck.
"What are you doing?" Rally struggled against the cuffs.
Zorc didn't react to their scream. Vivian was watching the scene with an almost awed expression. Valon was cringing and Cathy was reacting similarly to Rally, although silently. Chazz had closed his eyes and seemed to just be trying to block it out.
Once the gurgling noises and struggles stopped, the guard released the wire.
Kite slumped forwards, a narrow line cut deep into his throat, still spilling warm blood.
"You know what to do."
The guard unfastened Kite and picked him up. The others gave him no assistance as he carried the body out of the room.
Zorc turned to the remaining five. "His death will be written off as a suicide once one of the guards finds him lying on the floor in his cell with a wire tied around the pipeline connected to the roof – just high enough to do the deed." He grinned. "And don't think he was the only expendable one. If we lose any more, we can easily replace you with a quick tug, and you'll be joining him in the furnace."
Rally swallowed, their face pale.
Zorc's grin grew. "So," he purred, "what'll it be?"
Ryou looked pale. Far paler than usual, even for him.
Bakura frowned as he neared his boyfriend- gods, that sounded so good, even to think. "Are you okay?"
Ryou looked up at him and nodded, offering a feeble smile. I'm fine.
"You don't look fine." Bakura's eyebrows furrowed.
Ryou shook his head. I am. I'm just not feeling great. I'm probably tired.
Probably tired. Yeah. Yeah, he had been on the mission last night so that made sense; he had only gotten about three hours of sleep.
"If you want, I'll bring you to the nurse's office," Bakura offered as he dropped his bag by his desk and sat down, turning in his chair so he could talk to Ryou. "You can say you've got a stomach bug and he'll let you lie down and take a nap."
Ryou offered another feeble smile. That sounds good, but I have a test in Geography later.
"Screw that; I'll cover for you," Bakura insisted. "It'll be fine. You can always retake it in the next class."
Ryou hesitated. I guess… He shook his head. I'll think about it.
Bakura nodded. That was fair.
The room fell silent. Bakura twisted in his chair to see Zorc entering the room.
The picture was on the board, but everyone had already seen it walking into the building.
Sprayed across the main building were the words, 'Individually, we are one drop. Together, we are the ocean. – The Draughtsmen.'
Anzu had protested about the name, saying that it was sexist, but having no better suggestions, she had been overruled.
Surrounding the quote were multiple others. Bakura only knew Ryou's from the slight slant; he couldn't read them.
The large one was the only one written in Japanese, which had caused a flurry of rushing towards any and all language students to try and translate it.
A few section seventeeners had gone with the flow to provide some sort of disguise. Bakura hadn't bothered; he wouldn't have, even if he didn't know what was going on.
"The Draughtsmen," Zorc said slowly. "The Artist, whoever they are, formed a group of followers." He pressed a button and the picture switched.
It was dark; almost too dark to see.
There were silhouettes of a few figures a few feet from the camera. A sensor camera, probably. It was close to the ground.
Bakura saw Atem shift out of the corner of his eye.
Ryou was staring at his desk, his breathing a bit shallow.
"If any of these assailants are caught," Zorc continued, "they will meet the exact same fate that the Artist will meet."
Ryou collapsed, falling out of his chair and hitting the floor.
"Shit," Bakura cursed, whipping around and crouching down beside him.
Zorc raised an eyebrow as Bakura checked Ryou's temperature and pulse. "What happened?"
Bakura bit back a snarky response. "He fainted," he grunted, gently tapping Ryou's cheek continuously. "He should go to either the nurse or hospital; he was feeling sick this morning."
Zorc sighed but nodded to Marik. "Call the icuHospital and get them to send in an ambulance; he could have a concussion."
Shit, he hadn't even thought of that. What if he had one? What if it did permanent damage? What if he didn't wake up?
Bakura's tapping grew faster and harder.
"Necro, cut it out." Marik crouched down beside him. "He'll be okay."
"You don't know that," Bakura muttered, not even taking the time to shoot him a glare.
Marik placed a hand on his shoulder. "Come on; you know you're overreacting."
Bakura's tapping eased, but didn't stop. Was he? Yes, he was. But still; he didn't want Ryou to die. He didn't want another person to be taken away from him. Not again.
Not again.
Gods, please not again.
It didn't take long for the ambulance to arrive. Bakura had to stand back when they lifted Ryou onto a stretcher, but he followed them out into the courtyard as they carried him to the ambulance, and he climbed into the back with one of the paramedics.
The paramedic opened his mouth to argue, but closed it again. Not even Zorc had protested.
Ryou woke up as they reached the hospital with a flashlight shining in his eye. The squirming and struggling that had ensued had only stopped because he saw Bakura.
Inside, all anyone wanted to know was his section, date of birth, medical history, and whether or not he had ICU Health Insurance.
When they found out he had been given an exemption from work by not only Zorc, but Pegasus too, he was being tested by a doctor in ten minutes.
Bakura hadn't been allowed into the room.
It was only when Ryou had been wheeled to a private ward in a wheelchair that Bakura was allowed to see him again. Ryou had only been in the bed for ten minutes when the doctor came back with the results – a smiley-smiley 'nice' doctor who cared more about upsetting someone that he did about results.
"Is the room okay for you, Dove?" He asked as he walked in, a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other.
Ryou nodded, his eyes fixed on the clipboard. What are the results?
The doctor frowned. Bakura scowled. "He wants to know what the results are."
"Ah, yes." The doctor peered down at the results. "Your fainting spell seems to be nothing more than anaemia; we're going to place you on five hundred micro-gram iron supplements – two a day, and if it happens again, three a day. Have them with food."
Ryou smiled. So I can go?
"Yeah, can he leave yet?" Bakura asked before the doctor could even look at him.
The doctor cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, looking down at the results again. "Not just yet. We did pick up slight abnormalities in your CAT scan, so we want to run a few more tests." He gave Ryou a nicey-nice smile. "But it's unlikely anything will come up – we just want to be certain. Provided nothing comes up, you can leave tomorrow morning."
"I'm staying with him," Bakura cut in.
The doctor gave Bakura the same nicey-nice smile – it made Bakura want to punch his face in to see how durable the smile was. "I'm sure we can make arrangements for you to stay in the guest room."
"No; I'm staying in this room with him." Bakura narrowed his eyes. As did the doctor.
After a moment, the doctor nodded and the smile returned full force. "Very well, sir. I'll have one of the nurses bring in a blanket and pillows. I'm afraid we don't have a fold-out bed or blow up mattress. Will the armchair be okay?"
Bakura glanced at it. It was pink, too floral, and made him wonder whether muddy boot-prints would look better over it. "Yeah, that's fine."
"Excellent." The doctor's smile grew and he looked at Ryou. "We'll begin your testing after lunchtime. Have a nice morning."
Malik clutched the paper bag in his hand as he pushed open the door, even though a sign clung to it reading 'No food or drink allowed'.
"No food allowed," was the first thing he heard when he walked in.
Damn. The garlic in the samosa must have smelled stronger than Malik realised. "I'm not going to eat it."
The man behind the counter scowled at him and pointed at the sign, his round glasses slipping on his papery nose. "No food allowed," he repeated. "Can't you read, kid?"
Malik gritted his teeth. "Yeah, I get it. I'm just here to pick someone up and then I'll leave with my food."
The attendant sighed through his nose and gave Malik a forced smile. "Welcome to Stamps'n'Stuff. How can I be of assistance, comrade?"
Malik couldn't help the grin that tugged at his lips. "Comrade?"
The attendant shrugged. "Store policy; owner's some section two 'the world is great and let's not misgender anyone' person."
Malik's grin grew. "So you decided on comrade."
"It was either that or captain." The attendant folded his arms. "Now what do you want, comrade?"
Malik couldn't stop grinning at the name. It made him feel… good. Well, better. "I'm just waiting for someone who works here to go on a break."
The attendant raised his eyebrows. "I'm the only one working here today."
Malik frowned. "You're sure?"
His eyebrows arched further. "That I'm the only one here? Yeah, I'm sure."
Malik shook his head. "Well, he said he was working here today."
The attendant sighed and walked over to a calendar. "What's the name? Maybe you mixed up dates."
"Giraffe."
The attendant paused, then shook his head and turned back to Malik. "Nope."
"No, what?" Malik frowned.
"No, there's no one of that name here."
Malik's frown deepened. "You mean this week?"
"At all," the attendant corrected, "or if there is, they didn't work in the last two months or this month, and aren't scheduled to work next month."
"You're sure?"
The attendant pulled down the calendar. "You can look if you want."
Malik scowled and slowly shook his head. "It's fine. Sorry about that."
"It's fine, comrade." The attendant pointed to the door. "Now if you're not picking up anyone, no food allowed."
Malik rolled his eyes and left the shop. The door clanged shut behind him. Odd.
"Phoenix!"
He looked up as Marik ran up the path to him, grinning. "Hey." He returned the grin. "Where were you?"
Marik held up a bottle of red lemonade as he slowed to a halt. "I figured you'd want a bottle." Malik's favourite.
Malik only smiled and nodded. "Left work early to get it?" Marik hesitated. "I went in to pick you up and you weren't there." Marik's face was beginning to pale. "It was weird; whoever was in there was saying that no one called Giraffe worked there." Malik raised an eyebrow.
Marik shook his head. "I wonder why." A feeble attempt at a laugh escaped his lips.
Malik nodded. "Yeah, he was saying that no one called Giraffe had worked there in the last two months either – but it was only two weeks ago that you told me you were working there."
Marik swallowed. "Yeah. Imagine that. Must have been a computer error. Can we go for lunch now?"
"They had no computers in there," Malik interrupted. "It was all written down."
"Well maybe they took down my name wrong," Marik shot back – too quickly.
"You said you were working today," Malik insisted. "Even this morning, you text me and said it was a slow day and you couldn't wait for lunch."
"So?" Marik put a hand on his hip.
"The guy in there said that no one but him was working today." Malik shook his head. "Giraffe, why don't you just tell me what's going on?"
"Why don't you tell me what's going on with you?" Marik shot back.
"No." Malik scowled. "No, we are not turning this into me. This is about you, Giraffe. What's going on?"
Marik glanced around – no one was close enough to hear their conversation. "Just-" He pursed his lips and pushed the bottle of lemonade into Malik's chest. "Just go to the section twenty nine club tonight," he muttered as Malik caught the bottle. He turned away. "Enjoy your lunch."
"No, sir, your phone isn't broken," Yugi assured the boy standing in front of him.
"But the screen keeps getting really hot," he insisted.
"Yes, because you've got too many apps running in the background." Yugi tapped into the settings. "See this option?" He pressed the apps button and a list of apps came up. "These apps are using up battery and overloading your phone. When you use one and finish, you go into settings, then apps and tap it." He tapped Pokémon Gone to show him. A menu came up and he tapped close app. "It'll save your battery life and stop your phone overheating. And if you close all of your apps while playing Pokémon Gone, it'll also save battery." He smiled and turned the screen off. "If you do that, your phone should last you another year, provided you don't break it."
The boy's eyes lit up as he took the phone back from Yugi. "Thanks! What do I owe you?"
Yugi checked the clock. It had taken him half an hour, so it should be five hundred Zira. "Two hundred."
"Aira?" The boy asked.
"Zira," Yugi corrected.
He smiled and took a two hundred Zira bill out of his pocket. "Thanks," he repeated as he handed it to Yugi.
Yugi returned the smile. "No problem."
Once the boy was gone, he slipped the two hundred – plus three hundred of his own money – into the cash register.
"That was nice of you."
Yugi jumped at the sound of the voice and looked up to see Yami standing at the counter. Then he smiled. "Yeah, maybe."
"You just saved him three hundred Zira." Yami shook his head, grinning. "That was nice."
"If you say so." Yugi grinned. "Let me just grab my coat." He disappeared into the back room as Yami nodded in agreement. "Panther, I'm going on lunch break," he called. "Your turn up front."
Mokuba sighed and saved whatever figures he was working on before standing up. "On it. Enjoy lunch."
"Thanks." Yugi grinned and made his way out to Yami again, grabbing his jacket off the coat-hook as he left the room. "Ready?" He asked as he shrugged it on.
Yami nodded in agreement. "I have some pizza back at my cube, so we can either head back there or go to the bakery."
Yugi chewed his tongue. "What kind of pizza?"
Yami grinned. "Hawaiian, or margarita."
Yugi stuck out his tongue. "Margarita. Definitely margarita. Hawaiian is utter muck; I don't know how you can eat that."
"Hey, I like it," Yami laughed as they left the shop.
"Yeah, but why?" Yugi shook his head, giggling.
"I like pineapple, I like ham, I like them together." Yami shrugged. "So why wouldn't I like Hawaiian pizza?"
Yugi rolled his eyes. "You're such a dork." They walked in a comfortable silence the rest of the way to Yami's cube.
Once inside, Yami took Yugi's coat and hung it up. "Do you want some coke, milk or water?"
"Coke," Yugi decided, sitting at the table. "I could use a bit of a sugar-rush for my next shift."
Yami hummed in agreement as he slid the pizza into the microwave. "Yeah, me too. I swear, people enjoy wasting my time in there."
Yugi grinned. "I bet they send you to get stuff just to look at your ass."
Yami rolled his eyes, his face heating up. "I doubt that many people want to see me bent over."
"Okay, how many people send you to get something on the bottom shelf a day?" Yugi asked.
"About five."
"How many come back again multiple times?"
"About five."
"And altogether, how many people?"
Yami shrugged as the microwave let out a 'bing'. "I don't know. Forty?"
"Then my theory sounds accurate." Yugi's grin grew.
Yami's face heated up, and he hid it by busying himself with taking the first pizza out of the microwave. Once he was certain his blush was gone, he grinned at Yugi and placed the pizza plate on the table. "Are you saying you find my ass cute?"
"Most definitely." Yugi's grin matched his.
Yami's face heated up again and he placed the Hawaiian in the microwave to hide it. Was Yugi- nah, it was just part of them messing around.
"How'd work go?" He asked as he waited for the pizza to finish heating.
Yugi picked up a slice of his own pizza and took a bite. "It was okay. I didn't have to do that much; just stack a few boxes and help one or two customers. A bit of a slow day."
Yami nodded. The days were getting slower throughout the shops in the icuMall as Halloween neared. They'd speed up again after Halloween – on the way to Christmas. "Think it'll be busy during Christmas?"
Yugi paused, mid-bite. "I don't want to be here by Christmas," he mumbled.
Yami sighed softly. "I know." His statement was interrupted by another 'bing' and he took the pizza out of the microwave, sitting across from Yugi. "We'll get out. Especially with everyone else in on it."
Yugi finished his bite. "I'm not so sure," he mumbled, "that telling them was a good idea. It's much harder communicating with a group of people, and missions are harder to get through without being caught. They're treating it like it's a game."
"Then tell them that," Yami urged. "Tell them that it's not a game and if we're caught, we'll die."
"They know that," Yugi sighed. "They just don't seem to realise that there's no coming back from it. That-that Zorc won't let them live."
Yami noticed the pause – and the way Yugi tensed. "You okay?" Yugi nodded. "You sure?" Yugi hesitated, then shook his head. "Do you want to talk about it?" Yugi shook his head again, but faster. Yami reached over the table and took Yugi's hand. "You can tell me if it'll make you feel better." Yugi's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Is it about Zorc?" Slowly, Yugi nodded. "And the other day when you came back to your cube when you got sick at school?" Another slow nod. "What happened?"
Yugi shook his head. "It was a long time ago," he mumbled. "I was a kid."
"That doesn't mean that it can't hurt." Yami squeezed his hand. "I was a kid too; that doesn't mean that I'm not hurting about stuff from my past."
"But that wasn't your fault." Yugi blinked hard a few times. "It wasn't your fault."
"And this was your fault?" Yugi nodded. "How?"
Yugi shook his head. "I should have known. I should have picked up on it or-or something. I should have guessed that something was wrong, I-"
"Yugi," Yami murmured, "you were a kid."
"I still should have known." Yugi closed his eyes. His eyelashes were wet now – Yami could see water pooling under them. "I should have known."
"What should you have known?" Yami tried.
Yugi's eyes scrunched up. "What he was going to do," he choked out. "That-That it wasn't a dream. G-Grandpa p-promised but-but he li-lied…" He stifled a sob.
Yami quickly moved around the table and knelt by Yugi's chair, wrapping his arms around him. Yugi buried his head in Yami's shoulder. "What did he promise?" He murmured.
"H-He said that-that I was sleepwalking," Yugi sobbed. "That I h-hit my head and-and that it was a-a dream, but it w-wasn't…"
"What wasn't a dream?" Yami murmured, his arms tightening around him.
Yugi sniffed and curled closer into Yami's body. "Z-Zorc," he whispered. "H-He-He…" He took a deep breath. "H-He r-raped me…" He swallowed. "I-I was about four or five an-and he picked me up f-from school and-and on the way home, he…" He sobbed. "He did it an-and knocked me out. He l-left me in the car and when I-I woke up I was in h-hos-spital and-and Grandpa promised that it-it was a d-dream…" He clung to Yami. "I s-should have kn-known…"
Yami shook his head. "You couldn't have known, Yu'," he murmured, holding him closer. "It wasn't your fault." Yugi only sobbed harder. He was going to kill Zorc. "You're going to get through this, Yugi. And I'm not going to let you do it alone. Okay?"
Yugi tried to choke out an answer, but only nodded when words failed him.
Yami's arms tightened around him. "I promise."
The lights flared in Malik's eyes the second he walked into the club, burning them. Every time he blinked, negatively coloured shapes would dance behind his eyelids.
The music boomed as one of the section twenty nine boys danced on-stage – a trashy show tune, but his audience were far too drunk to care.
Why had Marik sent him here?
Malik huffed and made his way over to the bar – if he was going to be here for a while, he wasn't doing it without getting at least a little tipsy.
The bartender winked at him. "What can I get you, sir?" He was wearing a classic female black-jack dealer costume with long red hair.
"Vodka on the rocks," Malik muttered. The bartender nodded and Malik frowned when he caught sight of his nametag. "Delta?" Akiza. He recognised him from school.
Akiza grinned at him and nodded. "Yeah, that's my name. Why?" He slid the drink over to Malik. "Know me?"
"From school." Malik took the drink. "I thought you were a girl."
Akiza nodded. "I am." She grinned.
Malik frowned. "But you look-"
"Doesn't mean I'm not a girl." She was frowning now. "And if you're going to start anything, I do have the ability to call security on you."
Malik shook his head. "I'm not starting anything." He took a sip. "So, do you crossdress?"
Akiza clicked her tongue. "No, I-" Her eyes flickered to the side before she answered, almost on instinct alone. "I'm trans."
Malik blinked. "What?"
Akiza rolled her eyes. "I'm not here to be an informant. Check it up when you get back to your unit. I've got work to do." She strode off to the other side of the bar.
Malik watched her with a small frown, but a change of song made him look up. Wolf in Sheep's Clothing. That was one of Marik's favourites.
When he saw the boy in booty shorts and a crop top with wolf ears and a matching tail, he almost didn't recognise him. But the blonde hair and tan skin were a dead giveaway.
He was sitting in someone's lap, his body twisting and curving to the beat of the song. The other boy – he couldn't have been much older than Malik – was grinning up at him as he slid a few notes into Marik's back pocket. Malik saw the hand hover over Marik's ass for a moment before returning to its owner's side.
Akiza chuckled and Malik turned to see her leaning against the bar. "I take it you're waiting for Akela?" Malik nodded. Akiza shook her head. "I don't know how he does it, but he rakes in more than anyone else here – though that isn't saying a lot. No one here makes a lot."
Malik frowned. "Why not?"
Akiza shot him a look. "Strippers and lap dancers don't get pay cheques, honey. They all work off whatever they can get from people sitting here."
Malik scowled. "That's stupid."
"Yeah," Akiza agreed, "but that's the system."
Malik rolled his eyes. "I thought you weren't here to be an informant."
Akiza frowned. "Well maybe I just don't want to spend every moment of my life justifying its existence."
"Never said you had to." Malik scowled at whoever's lap Marik was on and downed the end of his drink.
Marik locked eyes with him as the song ended and, after collecting what seemed to be a rather mediocre tip, made his way over to him. "Hey…"
"So, Akela?" Malik asked, raising an eyebrow.
Marik looked away. "It's just a job, Phoenix."
"Yeah; a job that you're better than."
Marik sighed. "Please don't do this…"
"Do what?" Malik's scowl deepened. "Get annoyed because my boyfriend is a lap dancer in a strip club?"
"It was the only job I could get." Marik folded his arms.
"Oh yeah?" Malik folded his arms, more defiantly. "What about that stationary shop?"
"I never worked there, Phoenix, I-" Marik took a deep breath as the next song started – some lyricless trash. "Can we talk about this later? I'm still working."
Malik rolled his eyes and took fifty Zira out of his pocket, handing it to Marik. "There. Now I have you for the song, right?" Marik nodded. "What were you thinking?"
Marik sighed. "I got laid off about three months ago when the Artist started up – the owner decided seventeeners weren't worth the trouble – and I couldn't get any other job in twenty four hours."
"You could have sent in a request," Malik protested. "They could have given you two or three days."
Marik shook his head. "No one was hiring seventeeners at the time; you know that." He slid a thumb into his pocket. "Nowhere but here. And you have to give a month's notice before leaving. I can't do that; I can't time if a job placement will open up a month from now or tomorrow. I can't quit, Phoenix. I'm not risking it."
"But what about working behind the bar?" Malik tried. "With Delta?"
Marik scoffed. "Yeah right. They get paid even less than we do. This is a section twenty nine club. I'm barely getting by on the highest wage." He looked up as the song ended. "I need to go." He hesitated, leaned up to kiss Malik's cheek, and then leaned back without doing so. "You can go if you want. You don't have to stay."
Malik shook his head. "I'm waiting for you."
Marik glanced at his empty glass. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
Malik gave him a small smile and nodded. "I won't drink anymore, okay? I'll be fine."
Reluctantly, Marik nodded. "Okay." He leaned up and pecked Malik's cheek, then turned to Akiza. "Keep an eye on him."
"Yeah, I've got him." Akiza shot him a wink.
Marik gave Malik one last smile before disappearing into the crowd. "You hurt a hair on that sweetie's head for this and I will kill you," Akiza muttered.
Malik shook his head. "I wouldn't-"
"Yeah, I've heard that before," Akiza snorted, "and I've helped patch up bruises and cuts after those promises. Your word means nothing to me. If I see a bruise or cut on him and even suspect it's from you, you're going down." She narrowed her eyes. "What's your name, anyway?"
Malik hesitated. "Phoenix."
"You don't sound certain."
Malik just shrugged. How could he explain that he wasn't certain?
"These designs are amazing," Mai murmured as she glanced over them. "Superhero costumes, right?"
Miho grinned and nodded. "Ye'; there is one for e'eryone."
Mai smiled at her – her designs were the only things Miho seemed confident about anymore. Her stutters were worsening every day; except when talking about designing.
It was one of the few things that still seemed to bring her happiness, and Mai loved it.
"I love this one." She pointed to a purple leather costume – a dark purple skirt, a light purple corset, dark purple gloves, dark purple boots, and a light purple mask.
"That one is your'," Miho said, her grin becoming a smile. "Loo'."
She pointed to the corner and Mai glanced down to see several colour codes scribbled in the corner. "What are these?"
"Col'urs," Miho replied. "Spr'y can col'urs that match the ou'fit."
Mai shook her head. "I'm confused."
"There is one for e'eryone," Miho repeated, "to wear on miss'ns. That way, no one can be c'ught, even if they're seen by c'meras."
Mai's eyes lit up. "That's a great idea."
"No it's not." Bakura was beside them, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded and his eyes closed.
Mai frowned at him as Miho's smile began to melt. "And why not?"
Bakura sighed and opened his eyes. "Yugi? Can we get this started?" He asked, ignoring Mai's question. "I told Ryou that I wouldn't be long."
"Hang on," Mai protested, her back straightening and her frown deepening. "Why isn't it a good idea?"
Bakura's gaze flickered to her and back to Yugi. "It's just not."
"But why?" Mai pressed. "If we used them, we'd be able to go on day missions and cameras wouldn't recognise us!"
"Bakura's right, Mai," Yugi cut in. "Miho, while the thought was a great one, it just wouldn't work."
Miho closed her notebook and looked down with a small nod. "No one's telling us why it's not a good idea." Mai glared at him.
"Because it's too risky." Yugi walked into the middle of the circle of chairs, arms folded. Eyes were either on him, or Mai. "Her design teacher will see the designs and recognise them. The designs will probably have personality aspects that the leaders will notice, for instance, you wearing purple. They don't cover every inch of skin and hair like our current ones do, and they'd be too shapely. If they manage to go off body shape, it wouldn't be too hard to figure out who's who."
"We could stage a break in," Zygor offered. "Make it look like the costumes were stolen."
"I need to make 'em any'ay," Miho mumbled. "I's a pr'ject."
"No," Yugi insisted. "We could get caught way too easily. What if someone ends up leaving DNA?"
"You mean like you did?" Otogi accused.
Yugi shot him a hard look. "Yes. Exactly like I did. And if it wasn't for Akefia getting caught, and Atem both mixing up the codes and deeming it unlikely to be the Artist's, I would have been killed. How likely is it that they'll be able to save our asses again?"
Otogi looked away.
Yugi sighed. "I'm sorry, Miho. I'm not saying it was a bad idea; I just don't think now is the time for it."
Miho forced a small smile and nodded. "Tha's okay."
"Are we done?" Bakura drawled. "I need to go."
Yugi sighed. "Yes; we're done. Everyone knows their jobs for the next mission?" Everyone nodded. "Then the meeting is over."
He, Bakura and Yami quickly left the room. Marik and Malik followed. Once they were gone, Mai closed the door – she had wanted the latter two to stay, but they had left too quickly for her to stop them without alerting Bakura, Yugi and Yami.
"Hey, we need to go too," Bonz protested.
"Not yet." Mai folded her arms. "I think we should try the costumes."
Miho bit her lip. "Bu' Yu'i said-"
"That he doesn't think it'll be a good idea," Mai cut in. "We need to show him that it will be." Miho still looked hesitant. "Show them your designs, love."
Miho slowly opened her design book and passed it around.
Heru flicked through some of the pages. "This seems risky," he mumbled. "I love the designs, but Yugi's right."
Otogi snatched the book from him. "Well I think it's a good idea," he countered. "This way we can go on a mission in the day and even if we're seen, we won't be found out."
"What about the DNA stuff?" Sid asked.
Honda glanced at the designs from over Otogi's shoulder. "We could fix that with a head covering or gloves," he suggested. "And Yugi went three or four months with his head and hands uncovered without being caught. We could manage."
"Wait, we're doing this without Yugi?" Mana's eyebrows arched. "Nuh uh. No way. That's potential suicide."
Anzu chewed her lower lip. "Maybe," she mumbled, "it'd be a good idea."
Shizuka's head turned in her direction. "You can't be serious," she mumbled.
"We could show Yugi that we're capable of doing missions alone," Anzu pointed out. "It might take some pressure off him."
Seto scowled at the designs as they were passed to him. "Count me out." His being the first vocalisation of not wanting to do it was met by wide eyes. "As Mana said, this is potential suicide." He passed on the notebook and turned away. "Are you coming, Mokuba?"
Mokuba hesitated. "I… I'm going to stay," he decided. "It could be fun."
"It isn't meant to be fun." Seto glanced over his shoulder. "Katsuya? Shizuka?"
"Yeah, we're coming," Jounouchi agreed, helping Mana guide his sister around the chairs.
"Atem?" Seto raised an eyebrow.
Atem looked away.
Seto nodded and the four left the room. Bonz hesitated as Sid followed them, but when Zygor and Keith didn't move, neither did he.
Miho looked up at Mai. "Good idea?" She didn't sound certain.
Mai gave her a reassuring smile. "It's a great idea. Now, how long will it take you to make the costumes?"
Ryou squeezed Bakura's hand like a lifeline as he waited, his leg jerking in an incessant tapping.
Bakura reached over and placed a hand on Ryou's knee. Ryou stopped tapping. Sorry.
"It's okay," Bakura murmured. "You're nervous; I get it."
Ryou sighed and nodded. Yeah. A bit.
Bakura smiled and pecked his cheek. "It'll be okay."
I know but I want to get out of here. He began tapping again, but Bakura didn't stop him this time.
"At least you're out of the bed," Bakura reasoned.
In two weeks, Ryou had only been allowed out of his bed a few times to shower – and even then, he had been advised against it.
I guess, Ryou agreed. His hands fell into his lap and he dug his toe into the white, tiled floor.
Bakura reached over and began toying with a strand of Ryou's just-dried hair. "You should let me cut your hair at some stage."
Ryou raised an eyebrow and glanced at him. His leg slowed down a bit. I didn't know you liked styling hair.
Bakura shrugged and toyed with his own French braid. His 'bat-wings' had been fluffed together to one side in order to make it seem more of an intentional style. "Yeah, well… I do."
He had started taking to it when Miho's make-up got too shaky to wear up on stage.
He had to help Yami and one or two others every day now – thankfully not Akiza anymore. Her make-up had always been way too detailed for Bakura to feel confident doing, and now that she was in a section twenty nine club, he no longer had to worry about it.
Then one evening, Miho had styled Yami's hair wrong and Bakura had done his best to amend it.
He had to trim Yami's hair back a bit to get clumps of gel out of it – which Yami had protested about until he actually saw his hair.
Now, Bakura helped him with his hair every evening, and he occasionally saw Yami wearing it the same way at school.
Ryou smiled slightly. I'd like that, he agreed. I've been wanting to get it trimmed for a while.
Bakura tilted his head. "Just a trim?" Ryou nodded. "Why not go short – or at least shorter?" He picked up a strand of Ryou's hair. "Maybe shoulder or chin length?" Ryou shook his head. "Why not?"
I just don't want to. Ryou let his hands fall into his lap again. Bakura knew that he didn't want to continue the conversation, but he kept going.
"Why don't you want to?"
Ryou sighed. Please just drop it.
"Why?"
My mom. Ryou closed his eyes. I used to keep it long for my mom, when she was sick. I haven't cut it short since.
After a moment, Bakura nodded. "Did she get better?" Ryou hesitated, giving Bakura the answer. "I'm sorry."
Don't be. I'm glad she didn't have to go through any more of that pain, Ryou insisted.
"I know." Bakura took his hand and squeezed it. "But it still hurts."
Ryou bit his lip. Yes. It does.
The door opened and the smiley-smiley nice doctor walked in, carrying a clipboard – and yes, he was smiling. "Hello again, Dove."
Ryou waved as he sat down behind the table separating him from Ryou and Bakura.
"Well?" Bakura asked, eyes narrowed.
The doctor glanced at the clipboard, as though he didn't already know what it said. "We've looked at all your symptoms; increased fevers, fatigue, frequent lung infections, loss of weight, enlarged liver, easy bruising, nosebleeds, petechiae, etcetera. From your blood test, we found a heightened level of T-cell activity, which suggested a few possible illnesses. We took a few more blood and tissue tests, as you know, which proved positive." Ryou nodded. "We then took a bone marrow sample five days ago, and it resulted in a positive diagnosis as well."
Ryou swallowed, and Bakura squeezed his hand. "Are you actually going to tell us what he's got, or are you going to spout medical jargon all day?"
The doctor looked at the clipboard again and flipped a few pages. "He has a form of seemingly genetic leukaemia." Ryou's eyes widened and his breath hitched. "We can begin treatment quickly, provided-"
He couldn't hear it – any of it. Did it even matter? Probably, but Bakura seemed to be sorting it out.
Even if it was meant to matter, he couldn't bring himself to care about it.
Leukaemia – just like his mother.
The Draughtsmen crept, sans the Artist. Crystal had done herself proud – it had only taken her two weeks to finish the costumes enough for them to be mission ready.
She was planning on finishing the finer details later – once the Artist saw that the plan was a good one. But for now, they were without deep pockets or gloves. It wouldn't matter anyway.
Ready? Polar signed.
They had agreed that she was to lead the mission; she had been the one who pushed the idea. The others nodded.
Polar adjusted her mask and they walked. One or two had capes that flapped a bit behind them, but one sharp look from her and they clung to the sides to prevent the noise.
There was only six of them – and none of them had been the ones to stage the break-in. Just in case.
The design room window had been broken, Crystal's designs and one or two others taken, and the room messed up a bit.
The school would probably say something about it the next day – maybe offer cinema tickets to anyone who could tell them who did it.
Wild accusations would fly around and one victim would be blamed with no proof and probably sanctioned for it.
Polar had made everyone promise not to be the ones to throw the wild accusations. It had taken Skele a bit of convincing, but he had eventually agreed to it.
They finally stopped at the icuMall again – where the Artist had staged his first ICU-wide stunt.
Diabound, Panda, Shrew, left, Polar signed. Strix, Lion, with me, right.
Their signing was still only sub-par – Dove hadn't been let out of the hospital yet. Test after test was being run on him, again and again.
The six split, Diabound, Panda and Shrew taking the left side of the building while the others worked on the right.
It took a while – longer than expected.
They weren't as used to the cans and letter sizes or spacing as their usual leader was, and without him, their coordination was off.
But they managed it.
"Don't leave anything behind," Polar hissed as they re-grouped. She didn't know enough BSL to sign it – and they wouldn't have known what she was saying, even if she did. "Bring absolutely everything."
A can clinked to the ground and Panda fumbled for it. Diabound reached for it at the same time and they crashed.
In the collision, Panda's foot hit it and the can rolled into one of the sewers.
"Leave it," Polar snapped as he went to go after it. "It'll be fine. No one will find it."
"But-"
"We don't have time! We need to go now!"
Reluctantly, Panda nodded and they began walking again. Then running.
Jump when I jump, Polar signed as a sensor approached. She jumped a second late so they would jump on time.
The sensor turned orange for a second before reverting to green and they kept going.
"The cubes are grey," Shrew mumbled as section seventeen came into view again. "Two minutes."
"We'll make it," Polar muttered. "Split. Now."
They divided and sprinted for their coffins. The sensors were off that night – nothing had happened for a while so Pegasus was beginning to cut funding for section seventeen security again.
Big mistake.
Polar slipped into her cube and under the covers just as the glass turned clear again.
She slipped her mask off under the covers and opened one eye to see Panda feigning sleep in the next cube. Good. They made it.
Slowly, she took off the costume and slid it under her bed, careful to keep it out of view of Zorc's coffin.
She would hide it better in the morning – once the Artist cleared their mission and praised them for a job well done.
She smiled softly and relaxed in the bed – she wasn't bothered to put on her pyjamas again, leaving her in her bra and underwear.
They did it.
The communal breakfasts had started a month previously – an attempt to stop the Artist doing quite as much at night, or at least to pick out who looked more tired than usual. Not every day at first.
Just every Sunday.
Then every weekend.
Then every second day.
Then every day.
Ryou was sitting at the end of the table with Bakura, Yugi and Marik, picking at his food.
Yugi had been smiling when he entered the hall, but he wasn't anymore. Neither was Marik.
Malik sat down beside Marik, his usual breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast lathered with spices sitting on a plate at his seat. "You okay?"
Marik spared him a quick glance and nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine." But he didn't let go of Ryou's hand. "It'll be okay, Dove."
Ryou offered him a feeble smile. Yeah. Maybe.
"What'll be okay?" Malik frowned in confusion.
Bakura shot him one of his famous 'shut-the-fuck-up' glares as Ryou looked down.
After a moment or two of silence, Yugi spoke, "Dove's sick, Phoenix."
Malik shrugged. "Yeah, he's been sick since we got to ICU. Anaemia, mutism-"
"It's different this time," Marik cut in. Before he could expand on it, an image from a projector flickered up onto the wall.
There seemed to be one in every room of the ICU now.
On screen was a woman wearing a superhero costume; a light purple corset and mask with a white trim, a deep purple skirt, thigh-high boots, elbow-length gloves, and a beret. In her hand was a silver can of spray paint.
Yugi's eyes widened and he shot a glance at Mai across the table. She wouldn't look at him.
Another flickered up; a tanned boy wearing a bandit mask with periwinkle eyes, a red cape, a dark blue skirt and sandals – and a golden sash. Again, a silver can of spray paint.
Next was an image of a boy slightly smaller than the last with grey-blue eyes, a light blue cloak, white pants, and a silver sash. Covering his head and face was a type of mask that ran past his neck.
Next, a boy about the same size as the first with tanned skin, a wide mask that wrapped around the back of his head and pinned down his hair, sunglasses, a tunic, a royal blue cape and sandals with a silver can of spray paint.
Then, a boy barely taller than Yugi dressed almost identically to the last one.
Finally, a burly boy with a Phantom of the Opera mask, a tux, and another can of spray paint.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Zorc called from the back of the hall, "the Draughtsmen."
The next image that flickered up was a shot of the icuMall. It looked like a bad imitation of the Artist's stunt – fifty feet tall, all across the building.
We aren't limited to the dark anymore.
Repeated, and repeated, and repeated, twelve or eighteen times.
They should have chosen a quote. They should have chosen a quote.
Fuck, they shouldn't have done it!
Malik's eyes flickered around. The eyes alone should have given Heru and Akefia away, but he supposed that the darkness would have turned the investigators off using them.
Atem and Heba, not so much. The only reason that Malik knew it was them was because Atem looked away and Heba was the only other boy of Yugi's height.
Mai, they knew. They knew her from Miho's design the other night. And the purple – everything was purple.
Zygor was so easy to spot. With Ushio dead, he was the only one left aside from Keith with that body structure. They should have known. They had to know. Maybe they were blind? No, something was going to happen.
Those fucking idiots.
They all turned when they heard someone hit the floor.
Bonz ran to him, and Keith crouched down beside him. "Panda, calm down! What's wrong with you?"
Zygor shook his head, writhing on the floor. He sucked in shallow breaths of air, and spat out choked gasps. Froth gleamed at the corners of his mouth and he clawed at the ground.
"Let this be a lesson to you," Zorc continued as Zygor struggled for air. "The Draughtsmen are not infallible, and neither is the Artist. We will find you, and you will suffer the consequences." Zorc waved a hand. "DNA was found – a can in a sewer with Panda's finger prints on it. Rather careless, wouldn't you agree?" Zorc let out a choked wail, his eyes and face going red. "I thought so." Zorc smiled. "There are a group of ICU inhabitants like yourselves outside the ICUPD that are dedicated to catching the Draughtsmen. You're all free to join if you want. The name will be the ATRA – Anti-Terrorist Republican Army." He left the room.
Instantly, there was a mad rush for Zygor.
"Move!" Seto boomed. The crowd already formed reluctantly parted to let him through. Yugi followed him and crouched down beside Zygor. "Poison?"
"It had to be," Yugi agreed. "A strong one."
Seto quickly took Zygor's temperature and checked his eyes. Red. "He's only got a few seconds."
Yugi shook his head and met Zygor's gaze. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.
Zygor's hand shot up from the floor and clasped Yugi's arm. The corners of his lips curved up and he tried to force out a few words, but all he got was air.
He spasmed and arched off the ground a few times, and it took Seto, Yugi, Keith, and Bonz to hold him down.
After one last jerk, his body stilled and he stopped choking. Seto pressed two fingers to his wrist, then his neck, then his temples.
After a moment, he stood up. "He's gone."
Yugi squeezed his eyes shut. His shoulders were shaking and he took Zygor's hand, squeezing it hard.
"Calico?" Marik murmured.
Yugi slowly stood up, roughly wiping his eyes. "A meeting tonight," he muttered, his voice sounding strained. "An hour after curfew. Don't you dare be late."
DD: Whelp, yes, I just killed a second person in less than ten chapters. I don't think I've done that before. I feel great! (I swear; I'm not a serial killer.) Hope you guys enjoyed! Please review. See you next time, Killer Queens!