I think I probably could have combined the previous installment with this one, but this scene in particular seemed important enough to stand on its own. I always think of my stories in chunks like this, and honestly I can't claim to really have a system.

I don't.

I work on instinct more often than anything else.

It usually works out, though.


.


Roland burst into the room, sidearm trained, only to find his employer.

Seto Kaiba was not only awake but stood tall and imperial over the huddled ghost of a man Roland had hoped he'd never have to think about again. Somehow, even dressed in simple cloth pants and a hospital gown, with disheveled hair and eyes like fevered lamps, the man had never looked more like a conqueror.

Roland lowered his weapon. "You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days," he said.

Seto turned. Flinched, almost imperceptibly, as he shifted his weight and twinged his bad shoulder. "We're going to have to rethink our strategies," he said. Whispered. His voice was barely there, a raspy mimicry of his usual baritone. "I doubt I have to tell you that, but I used up my energy on this," he gestured to the lump on the floor, "so please forgive my inability to filter what few thoughts I have."

Roland gave a breathless little chuckle. "Understood, sir."

He hovered a hand near the light switch and waited.

Seto nodded.

When light flooded into the room, Roland's initial guess was confirmed: the mass on the floor was Daimon. The old master's right hand. A syringe sat almost innocently by the claw of his right hand. The man was breathing; slowly, shakily.

Seto followed Roland's eyes and grimace. "Get that old demon talking," he growled. "I don't care how you get the information out of him. Bribe him, threaten him, hang him by his ankles. Whatever he knows, I want to hear it."

"Of course, sir." Roland holstered his gun and stepped forward. "Before I do anything else, however, I have to ask: has Aunt Shelly called you recently?"

Seto's lips twitched in something like a smile. "No," said Seto. "She must have lost my number. You know how she hates technology."

The Kaibas didn't have any aunts as far as anyone knew, never mind one named Shelly, but the code was necessary. With doppelgangers running around, there was no way to be too careful about it. Roland nodded with satisfaction and hoisted Daimon up onto one shoulder.

"We've already had one situation today," Roland said. "A smokescreen, I think, to prevent anybody from dealing with this."

"Situation," Seto repeated suspiciously.

"Better you hear it directly from your brother," Roland said. "I wasn't there. I'd advise you to go back to bed, but I don't know how well that's going to work. At the least, consider a change of clothes before you go stalking down the halls, yes?"

"Telling me to go to bed," Seto said, swaying a bit, "might work better than you think." He held his head with one hand. "I'm not in any shape to do much more than I've already done. Doubtless the staff here will have enough words for me already." He stumbled over to the hospital bed, turned around, and fell into a sitting position when the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress.

"I think that much is to be expected," Roland said. "Settle yourself, sir. There will be time to bring you up to speed when you aren't seeing double."

"All four of you can shut up," Seto muttered. He eventually managed to swing his legs back onto the bed; he settled himself back into position, closed his eyes, and tossed his good arm across his face. "Deal with him, won't you? I can barely think."

"Of course, sir," Roland said again.

He watched Seto lay there for a while, wondering if he should feel worried or relieved. Eventually he decided on the latter. He turned toward the door and stepped out into the hallway. He watched two of his subordinates slip in after him, then left.

"You always were talented at spoiling the moment," Roland muttered, as Daimon jostled around on his shoulder. "Wait 'til he's out of commission, then sacrifice a little boy to the cause. You know, if you're that hard up for an opening, I think maybe you're losing your touch, old man."

Daimon didn't answer.