Yami snapped the magazine into the gun while the pilot walked towards them and froze when he saw Yami arming himself with gloved hands, and he held his own hands up high over his head, frozen in mild terror. What was happening?! The CEO was being threatened?!
"Speak," Yami said calmly, aware that he'd frightened the pilot, but it couldn't be helped.
"Uh… Do I need to call…911?" The pilot stammered in accented English, and Yami gave him a tired glare.
"Why? Are you ill? What did you come here to say?" Yami demanded, feeling Seto tense in the seat and tried to give him a reassuring pat, but he dodged Seto's hand and hissed at him, "don't touch me. You're drunk."
Offended, Seto slowly withdrew his hand and rested it into his lap, biting back more tears. Okay. Yami was dead.
He didn't know who this man was.
"That…it-we… Please deboard while we refuel, and we t-take off in an hour based on their schedule… trying not to make delays while they clear us—"
"Great. Thanks. Get out of my sight," Yami couldn't find the energy to be polite. He noticed Seto was extremely dejected, and he couldn't help that either. He wanted to cheer the CEO up, but right now, he needed to treat Seto like a client, and not a lover.
Otherwise Mokuba might not come back from it.
He grabbed Seto by the arm and yanked him to his feet, feeling Seto follow him and try to lean on him for support, but he elbowed the CEO in the chest and hissed at him.
"Walk straight. If you're really that drunk…" Yami grimaced and tilted his head at the plane's stairs that were slowly lowering. "Sleep it off in VIP. Come on. Bring your phone—get your act together for fuck's sake."
He bent down to pick up Seto's phone which had been discarded on the seat, and he stuffed it into Seto's blazer pocket, feeling the CEO sway depressingly again.
Dragging him down the plane's steps, they walked quickly through the hallway, straight past a luggage check line with no luggage, and into an air-conditioned hallway lit with soft LEDs mounted into the walls. Glass doors slid aside to let them into a spacious lounge, and the circular front desk blocked their way in.
An ominous black domed camera sat imposingly above their heads, and Yami did his best not to look at it as he leaned against the counter to check them into the VIP lounge.
"Standing reservation under the name 'Kaiba'," Yami said calmly, aware that the gun he wore tucked behind his back might be visible as a lump under his blazer to anyone standing behind them, but luckily, no one was.
"ID?" The woman asked, and Yami nudged Seto, seeing him hang his head and clumsily pat his front for his wallet.
Hissing in annoyance, Yami slipped his hand into Seto's pockets for him and flipped his wallet open, letting them scan the card, and hand it back.
"Your ID please?" The woman asked, and Yami blinked and froze. Ah. This was why they never waited inside lounges.
"My name should be listed under his account as a family guardian," Yami ranted, elbowing Seto in the chest again to get him to stop slumping over. "My clien—…friend here, is drunk as hell. I'll put him in a room and come right back with the physical ID. You can look me up, I'm in there—please, can you stand up, Kaiba? For fuck's sake, how much did you drink? Do you need to throw up?!"
The two ladies at the front desk looked nervous and passed a white keycard over the counter with a quick motion, waving him through.
"Thank you!" Yami called over his shoulder and dragged Seto into the dining area, past all the people sitting by the windows enjoying the sun while he placed the CEO in a corner booth and flagged a waiter down for water.
"This man is drunk. Iced water, please?" Yami asked calmly, and Seto gave him a pained look.
"I'm not drunk—"
"You are. For the sake of my purposes, act drunk," Yami replied, and he didn't sit down. Instead, he scanned the entire dining area for threats…or familiar faces.
The waiter came and left with the water, and Yami stopped Seto from drinking it.
"One second," Yami picked it up and scanned the surface for any odd sheens and then put it back down. "You can drink it now."
He knew he was acting insane, but this was how he treated all his VIP clients.
Rambunctious laughter was coming from the bar, and he immediately noticed something wrong. A woman was sitting alone at the far corner, wearing a beautiful dark red dress with a colored drink in front of her, but her eyes were not focused on anything. In fact, she looked tired, stressed, and afraid.
Her arms were tucked close to her body, and she sat on her hands defensively, the pose completely contrasting the finery she was wearing.
Yami's stomach curled in disgust. She looked like a trafficking victim.
Turning his gaze away, he watched Seto sip the water in the reflection of the nearby chair leg and aimed his gaze back to the men sitting at the bar, eyeing the man with blond hair and thick muscles.
No way?
He slid out his phone to test the theory and called the number he'd been trying this entire time, and saw the man at the bar, laugh at a joke, pull out the phone, see the screen, visibly end the call, and then go right back to drinking and laughing.
Confirmed, he was being ignored, and how convenient that man was here.
That meant this area was dangerous. Another reason why they avoided VIP lounges when traveling together.
"Okay, I changed my mind. You're going into a room with a lock and key," Yami pulled Seto to his feet and was glad he didn't receive a fight. "Stumble into the man we're walking past in five seconds."
Seto nodded wearily and palmed his face, feeling a real headache coming on from all the sunlight, and that made it easy for him to fall into the back of a man who was sitting at a bar stool. The man almost chinned his drink and spilled it.
"HEY!" The man cried, all four men at the bar turned to stare at him. "What's this fucker's problem? Take a shower, you reek."
Yami darted in front of Seto with his hand held across the CEO's chest, respectfully apologizing for him, "my client is drunk as fuck. I'm going to tuck him in like the little baby he is and come buy you all a drink, alright? Excuse us. Sigma."
And he didn't look any man in the eye before he led Seto over to sit down at another dining table.
"Thanks. Stay here for a few seconds," Yami leaned down to whisper into Seto's ear, and he straightened up when he heard heavy footsteps thumping over to him, and he braced himself for a hostile interaction.
"How'd you know my name?" The tallest muscular blond towered over Yami and scanned him with an intrusive eye. "Who sent you? You got a message for me? Or like, what?"
"Hey…! I thought I recognized you!" Yami winked and threw up a rock-on sign with his thumb, index, and pinky finger extended. "Atem. Finally, a pleasure to meet you." And then he dropped his pinky down, making a finger gun.
There was a stunned silence before all four men bent over howling and the tallest blond clapped Yami on the shoulder, shaking him and giving him another up and down look.
"OOOOOOOOOO HOOO HOOO!" he crowed, his blue eyes gleaming. "What's UP my BOY?! Hey, you really saved us back there, huh? What, 2016, summer in Vegas? What rooftop, huh? All I heard from you was, 'you're welcome, ya owe me' right as the guy bled out over me! Like, DAMN! Okay, round of drinks on me, huh? HUH? Buuuddyy?"
Yami was shaken so much, he swore his gun might come untucked, so he hastily moved his hand to rest it against the butt to calm himself down. This man, Sigma, was a despicable human who he only 'saved' out of convenience for himself…and his client at the time.
Seto pressed his hands tighter to his temples, realizing he might really be hungover, because these loud guys were making his eyes throb. He let out a tiny groan and thunked his head down on his forearm, acting drunk as Yami instructed him to.
"Who's this?" One of Sigma's henchman sat down beside Seto, and Yami tensed, grimacing and swatting him away.
"Don't go near him. He'll throw up on you. This is my client who I'm trying to refuse," Yami answered slyly, shrugging. "I don't hit jilted lovers, so I'm babysitting this client until his payout clears while he sobers up. Look at this poor fool."
"Gaw, what, fifth divorce? She take your houses and eight cars?" Sigma goaded the swirl of brown hair on the table, and he received a weak middle finger in response that made him laugh again.
"Killin' bitches…is a waste," the man announced to the entire dining room which was slowly emptying, because people were annoyed they were being loud. "Put 'em to work for you. Make her pay it back, y'know?"
Seto felt a real swirl of nausea rise up in his throat, and he leaned back in his seat, clapping a hand to his mouth and Yami rushed away from the table to grab Seto a paper bag he'd been eyeing behind the bar, and returned just in time for Seto to hurl into it.
All the men backed away in disgust, and Yami noticed the woman with the pretty dress sitting at the edge of the bar didn't even look at them. Even the waiter was horrified, but the woman at the end was completely glazed over, not even making eye contact. Definitely one of Sigma's girls.
"Okay, he needs a bath, some milk…a pepto, a massage," Yami listed, helping Seto to his feet while he staggered heavily on one side. "Some fresh air maybe?"
"Some pussy maybe?" The other henchman leered, and Yami showed all his teeth in what he hoped was a smile.
"Money better spent than using it on me—hey, wake up and stop being so fucking depressing," Yami shook Seto roughly for appearances, and Seto dropped his head forward glumly, thinking it was easy to act depressed when he really was depressed.
"Give him a girl. How about that one? She's…new," Sigma lowered his voice and nodded at the woman sitting dejectedly at the bar. He sat down at the table they were all standing beside, while all four men copied him and sank into the dining chairs, looking serious.
"Can he even get it up?" Yami scoffed, elbowed Seto again and rolling his eyes. "He might be gay with how many marriages he fucks up, right? Hey. Say you're gay. Say it. Say it. This guy will say anything while drunk—say it, you fuck."
"I'mmm gay…" Seto slurred and he sagged forward into Yami's side with a clumsy step. "I need a toothnnmbrush…mmmouth tastes like shit."
The men chuckled in amusement, and Yami rolled his eyes again, his arm going sore from how Seto was leaning into him for real.
"Okay, well, he reeks and I'm not about to get thrown up on. Be right back, gentleman," Yami nodded at them and led Seto down the hallway towards the suites, his blood secretly boiling.
He slapped the card against the reader and shouldered the door open, leaving Seto by the bed and scanning the room briefly before going over to draw the blinds, throwing the room into darkness.
"Sleep it off. Thanks for throwing up on cue," Yami answered, and Seto hung his head between his legs, a sour taste in the back of his throat as he declined to answer. He felt like shit. And he wondered when they would switch back to speaking in Japanese.
Yami's fluency in English might rival his own. Scary.
"Shower, drink only water, and …I'll check on the status of our jet," Yami continued to rain orders on him, making him feel like he was back at work. "Don't leave this room. Call me if anything strange happens. No one should bother you in here. You're safe, and stay that way, got it? …Kaiba, please answer."
"Yes, got it…" Seto said numbly, and a glass of water was handed to him after Yami stopped bustling around the room, making it 'secure'. "Thanks."
He took it up and pressed it to his lips for a sip, raising his eyes to look at Yami, but he was gone, already out the door and closing it softly behind himself. Fuck.
Yami walked back to the dining area to face off with the group of traffickers, his skin burning with a familiar feeling of cornering his prey, and he leaned against the bar right beside the sad-looking woman, waving the barkeep down to order a round of drinks for everyone.
"Vodka shots for my table there, in those location-party glasses," Yami said, nodding at the shot glasses on display in their sign for 'happy hour travel-themed drinks'. "Vodka for every glass except for San Francisco and Tokyo."
The woman beside him tensed when he said 'Tokyo' and Yami spared her a glance, deciding to help her in that instant. If this was Mokuba, Seto would want him to do everything in his power to make sure he was fine. This was no different. He truly was broken.
"Hey, you're cute. What's your name?" Yami asked as he watched the bartender methodically fill all their shots, making a huge show of pouring. He noticed the traffickers were peeking at him, talking to their product, so he called over his shoulder, "Drinks on me!" And he rested his gloved hand on the woman's forearm, seeing her stare at it with dark eyes. Okay.
No reaction…? Was that odd?
He gave it a squeeze which he hoped was suggestive and realized he didn't know how to hit on women anymore. Being with Seto for three years had really changed him.
"No…Englishu. Sorry." The woman whispered as she edged her hand away, and Yami grit his teeth tensely when the waiter passed the tray across the bar, not making eye contact. Ah fuck. The barkeep had been paid off too. He was in a hostile territory.
He swept the tray of alcohol up and gave the woman the shot glass of Tokyo, and walked away, grabbing San Francisco for himself before thunking the tray down at the table, giving the men a toast.
"I'm here to party," Yami said with a grin, tossing it back and making a sour face, gasping as he patted his chest for the act. "Fuck! …My first shot on the job. Hey, can I have her?"
He jerked his elbow at the girl in the dress who was sniffing her drink cautiously, and Yami jumped in fright when the henchman closest to him shouted out in Japanese, "drink it, you dumb broad! Get drunk for this man!"
The woman flinched and her fingertips whitened around the shot glass for a moment before she raised it to her lips and tossed it back, acting like it was alcohol, and that gave Yami a leap of hope. So she was lucid enough to cooperate.
That meant she could take other silent cues from him.
"Oh, I love Asian girls," Yami said callously, pulling out a chair beside the man and giving him a playful elbow, feeling it being slapped away with a hiss. "She's so pretty. Where'd you get her? I might wanna keep her for a few months for my client to stop bothering me. How much?"
"You speak this asian's language? We snatched her from a university medical center, so she might be a fancy doctor, who knows?" Sigma grinned, wiggling his shot glass. "Another, on you, and I might give you a discount… Atem."
"Let me talk to her some more and see if she'll want to fuck my client," Yami said, trying not to shake as he stood from the table and edged the tray of shot glasses off the surface. "My Korean is a little rusty."
"She's a hentai bitch," the man beside him grinned evilly, and Yami wanted to smash the entire tray of glasses into his face, but he told himself to hold out.
"You're the most sweet-talking murderin' gent I've ever met, no wonder everyone loves you," the leader declared, his eyes glinting. "Yeah talk to her all you want. Was gonna ship her over to the middle of Nebraska but you can have her for your client. I'll give you my number—but, oh, onnne second buddy, you got a bidder." The man held his phone up and lowered it, "12 million, US dollars. And the guy says he's on his way here. Got an offer that can beat that?"
Yami blinked and shrugged. "Maybe you and I can work out a deal. Let me think."
And he walked back to the bar, setting the tray down beside the woman's arm and calling to the bartender again, "vodka shots! Same as last time and…" he reached across the woman's arm to grab her empty shot glass, lowering his voice. "Special order for Tokyo and San Fran. Hurry up."
The barkeep nodded and tucked the tray under the bar to fill the two shot glasses with water first and then made a huge show of pouring the other drinks. Nice. Even when being paid off for silence, the barkeep knew what he was after as well.
Sigma must operate regularly here then.
"He come here often?" Yami asked, his ears humming with a dull sound he associated with pure rage.
"Don't know who you're talking about—"
"That muscle man and his disgusting cohorts," Yami spat quietly, feeling the woman tense beside him and glance down at his body, obviously seeing his gun tucked against the back of his belt.
"Maybe. Dunno. Twice a month, maybe. I dunno, don't arrest me," the bartender replied with wide eyes, pushing the tray back over with a panicked air. "Are you FBI? …I-I already said I'd do it!"
"Who is your contact," Yami asked gruffly, and he shook his head, throwing his 'vodka' back with a giant show and saying loudly, "re-fill this one for free! That tasted like water."
And he heard rambunctious laughter behind him.
The bartender took it up and placed it under the water tap, picking up the vodka bottle up to make a huge show of pouring it into the glass while the alcohol ran off the back of his hand, and he handed the water shot glass over with a nervous bob of his head.
Yami passed the woman the Tokyo shot glass again, grinning for appearances because he knew the men were watching, so he snuck his hand around her waist, touching her intrusively but making sure to turn his head so his lips couldn't be accidentally read as leaned in to whisper in her ear, making sure to speak Japanese, "full name? Are you sober? Have they given you anything and do you have any form of ID?"
The woman swallowed thinly and heard her captors call out behind her, "drink! You bitch!"
So she lifted the glass of water up and tossed it back bravely, knowing this spiky-haired man was here to help her. Otherwise, why would he give her shots of water while giving the other men alcohol? She'd seen the bartender pour it out.
"Shizuka," she replied, bowing her head and handing the glass back to the spiky-haired man with dark eyes, seeing him snatch it up and set it back over the barkeep's counter.
"Refill. You know the drill," Yami said in English, and he switched languages with ease without looking at her. "Last name, please, if you can remember it."
Yami grabbed the tray of drinks and bussed it back over to the men and gave them all a wink and leaned down to whisper, "she didn't fight me. How do you fucking do it?"
Sigma grinned manically and made the 'rock on' gesture. "We got bumps, always keep ket on hand and bitches are scared of knives. They don't speak English but they know when something is poking them, y'know? AHAHAHAHA!"
Yami smiled coldly in return and nodded at the man's burly hand wrapped around his phone, "I take off in an hour. What's your bidder's status? I'll gladly pay 12 for her."
"You got outbid, sorry, so have your fun with her at the bar there before the guy arrives," the leader replied with a menacing wink. "Thanks for getting her drunk. You sure know how to work them."
Damn, whatever, Yami rolled his eyes and shrugged, walking back to the bar for a third round of shots and watched the bartender take all the glasses back and act correctly without instruction.
"Katsuya," she said instantly when he paused beside her. "Shizuka Katsuya. I'm 20 and I'm a nursing major at Todai. They drugged me and grabbed me out of my lab…. Please help me."
"No relation to Jounouchi Katsuya or…what?" Yami asked with a tired eyebrow raise, thinking nothing would shock him anymore. He accepted the tray of shots over the counter, and heard a trembling, "…yes! My older brother is on the task force—"
"Stop talking. Stay alert, drink water to flush your system," Yami leaned into her to bite her ear suggestively, seeing her flinch, and he raised his gaze to the bartender, ignoring the whoops and howls behind him at the table while he gave the man orders, "keep giving her water but don't let them see, or you're dead too."
The bartender nodded firmly and grabbed the woman's empty shot glass, wondering how many times he could fill it discreetly without being noticed…
Yami walked back to the table, vibrating with a strange feeling he couldn't identify.
Anger? Maybe it was shock.
Why didn't Anzu bring it up to him? Right, because Mokuba…
"Awwww, don't do the pouty…." The men goaded, and Yami set the alcohol down, watching them all reach for it, and he decided in that instant that they would all die.
"I want her," Yami announced firmly, and the leader gave him a leery smile.
"She's takennn… I got 12 mil in my account with her name on it so… Nah, bro."
Yami narrowed his eyes.
"Then I'll just replace him," Yami said smoothly, pulling out the chair again to sit down. "Tell me how it works. You said you owe me one, well, I'll take this as payment."
"I said, nah, bro," Sigma replied with a hostile glare. "You don't fuck with my product just because you like this one. I'll get you another one. You want Japan or Korea? I'll even do it for half-price. 6. Becuz I owe you one, get it, scud?"
Yami swallowed the bubble of rage that was climbing up his throat, and he rested a gloved hand on the table with his hand splayed out to show he was relaxed, "you misunderstand me. I'll take her buyer's life. You keep the money. I want. That one."
The men at the table oo-ed at him, and the leader rolled his eyes.
"Then you better figure it out, rockstar," the man replied with a nod, waving over a man who was carrying his luggage in through the doors of the lounge. "Cuz he's here right now."
Yami's eyelid twitched in fury, and he stayed sitting, his mind racing.
This was Joey's sister. He couldn't leave this place until she came with him, otherwise he'd never see her again, dead or alive.
"You need to accept my offer," Yami hissed, curling his fingers into a fist, his heart racing in his throat. Fucking lug heads. "You get free money. I get your product. I'm stealing from this loser, get it?"
There was a tense silence.
"…Okay." The leader at the table said with a sudden nod. "I like your idea, Tiny. You come in with us as her handlers. We always make sure the first transaction goes down well. You can hit him then. Call it a gift from me, yeah? Then we're even."
"Deal," Yami growled as he tilted his head to the side and felt a rush of triumph. Idiots.
The man was being checked in by the front desk, and Yami decided he'd had enough of looking at their ugly faces.
"What room?" He asked nonchalantly, and the leader slapped a white keycard down on the table, sliding it across the way.
"109," the man replied, and Yami snatched the card up and stalked away, reminding himself to keep his body language calm, but it was hard.
He hurried down the hall and paused, hating how Seto's room was two doors down. Damn. Maybe that was too close.
No, it was fine.
He could always erase feeds.
He shouldered the door open and noticed the room was laid out exactly like the one Seto was in, except backwards. It was fine.
Now if I were to ever hit jilted lovers… Yami mused. He dropped down on all fours and glanced under the bed. There was a big enough gap for him to fit, so he inched underneath it and laid flat on his back, feeling the gun pressing into the small of his back. He waited, listening to his own heart pounding in his ears while he stared at the bed springs above his head.
He raised up and inched the gun out of his belt and slowly reached down to his calf for the silencer, quietly fitting it onto the barrel while he heard more laughter and loud talking come from outside the door.
Sigma and his goons were idiots. If they knew anything about what he did, they ought to know never to leave him inside the room first, unattended.
Sighing, Yami tucked one arm behind his head and pressed the barrel of the gun upwards into the mattress through a set of springs, hating how he might have to move from this position to hit the man.
His phone buzzed.
He pulled it out to see it was Anzu and not Seto, so he silenced it.
The men filed into the room, chatting loudly and making Yami tense. He knew why he hated 'loud talking' now. He could tell his therapist that when he saw her again, maybe.
But he was pretty sure everything he was doing now was undoing the months of healing he'd been able to achieve.
Author's note:
oh nooo not shizukaaaa D:
...
... alsoooo
the weather has been wild lately! i hope everyone's been staying safe!