Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! or Vampire Hunter D.
Sometimes I wonder...If I did not say how long it would take me to post it, would I post a chapter sooner?
Sorry. Life, you know?
Anyway, enjoy!
Chapter Sixty-Seven: Decisions
Bakura sat with his hands in his lap, trying his best not to grip or twist his fingers during their occasionally bumpy ride that took them to their destination. The mechanical thing before him resembled a horse to some degree but lacked the elegance and heart of one. Literally. Its metal skeleton clopped along on padded feet that hid the sound of its hooflike structure, the core of its engine whirring an electric purr. He glanced up at the stony figure beside him, his visible eyebrow cocked.
Greylancer caught his gaze and his lip curled in minimal good nature. "You've yet to see one of these?"
"What is it exactly?" Bakura asked, "An attempt at a horse?"
"You aren't far off," Greylancer replied. "This is a prototype that has been making its rounds. Unfortunately, I cannot say I enjoy it much."
"Oh?"
"We are looking to improve the world we live in." The vampire's forehead wrinkled in thought. "To make what He wishes of it. It is sensible to make modifications—but not outright inferior duplications."
Bakura leaned against the wooden back of his seat; interest piqued. "Inferior? This seems like a quiet, and very fast ride."
"If one is looking for a fast and quiet ride, why not clear the roads faster and create a better car? If we desire the aesthetic of a horse, shouldn't we be using horses?" Greylancer posed while motioning for his man to turn upon another dirt road. Ahead, if he squinted, Bakura could see the absence of stars on the horizon. A growing construct was currently being built, and he assumed that this was where they were headed.
Scratching the back of his head, Bakura shrugged at the other's question. "There are a lot of reasons I can think of not wanting the real deal. Food, upkeep, smell, etc…"
"Much of that could be mitigated if they just made them cyborgs. Although," he paused, "that no doubt frustrates the remains of those sympathetic to the True Nobility World faction. They were never fond of a little adaptation."
"The what now?"
"A former collective of vampires that were small minded, impetuous, and considered it best to wipe your kind from existence—against express orders of such attempts by someone far wiser than they. Only a year ago, they attempted to go against His will and exterminate every human with something they had developed. It had to do with a radiation that would solely affect human genetics."
Bakura gawked at the man, and Greylancer offered him his first real smile.
"So many things your kind misses in their struggle to tread water after a self-inflicted wound. No worries. The core has been eradicated. I am just cleaning up the remaining sympathizers when I can."
"My Lord is too humble to admit it, but he is the one who destroyed them all in the name of the Sacred Ancestor!" the manservant crowed.
Greylancer's face dropped to an immediate scowl. Bakura observed this and recognized that this individual acted on what he felt was right, and not for the sake of praise. A noble mentality, and a pity that they were on opposing sides in the long run.
He had also been correct in his assumption of how dangerous he could be.
In less than thirty minutes they arrived at an encampment that surrounded a growing structure that spoke of metal beams, rebar, and not a small amount of decorative stone waiting in the wings. Even without seeing the schematics, Bakura could recognize the beginnings of a modernized castle. Since the skeleton of the place was still being built, stories stacked upon impossible stories, his unknowing warden guided him in another direction, to a tent that hearkened Bakura's mind back to history class. A military-like tent wiped of all color by the night was fashioned near the entrance, and just beside that, there was a staircase that seemed to sink deep into the ground.
'That is where they sleep,' he thought to himself, and to the entity within. A whisper of an affirming grunt was heard, and it was for the best. Greylancer had turned toward him once more; it was no time for internal discussion.
The young man was checked over before entering the encampment any further—his blade and gun removed from him, reviewed, and handed back over no worse for wear. From the look on the vampire's face, he supposed that the human seemed less of a threat than anticipated. Six regular shots and a steel short sword bordering dagger length. What lasting harm could be done in the face of someone like the Noble Greylancer.
"It is still too early to obtain the verification that I need," he started, guiding Bakura to a canvas seat within the austere interior. In a gesture of what he assumed was politeness, Greylancer twisted on a lamp that hung above them to help the human see what properly lay within. He then waved off his attendant, who removed himself as requested without question, although a soured look spread across that one's face as he did as he was bid. "So, while we wait, I would like you to give me what you would not on the road."
"That being?" Bakura asked, feeling the heat of his breath hit his mask, a contrast to the chill within the innards of the grey-green tent. He hoped he would not be asked to remove it. All bets were off if that were the case. Short hair or no, he doubted this man would miss his scar, and whatever other tidbits of a detailed description that man could offer. Generally, his disguise worked best on, far away, or with those less inclined to memorize appearances.
"A full account, if you would, of how you came to this place. Humble beginnings and all."
"That way you can compare it to what I say later," he returned with a nod.
"You may be cleverer than what I gave you credit for."
Bakura shrugged. "Maybe."
His tweaked retelling of their history came to him as easily as an improvised backstory to one of his many NPCs—and it soothed Bakura to fixate on the comparison. If he imagined himself playing a game, the concept of his life-or-death situation became easier to bear. No, Greylancer was not talking to Bakura Ryou, a man on the run with the "Vampire King's" son, but to Dream Eater, the devoted ally of one Amelia Lupei. A person who had simply wanted to live a little and had now gotten caught up in a mess not of his doing.
Time would tell if he was to be believed. So far, Greylancer's face was unreadable. It took much of Bakura's willpower not to begin shaking in the presence of the deepening chill—of the night or his good graces, who knew? In a gesture he had not taken in ages, his thumb found the irregular bump of the inward facing pin he always kept close to the chest, and he dragged the side of his pad against it in small strokes to calm himself.
When the battery-run clock beside them struck 3 A.M. Greylancer proceeded to uncover a worn radio-like contraption. Parts looked scavenged from older iterations of the machine, yet the hint of its innards through plated vents shined the glossy new look of progress. With a twist from a knob at the top, a small CTR screen attached to the device via a confusing array of wrapped wires clicked on. The warming screen crackled with the familiar static sound of the past that inspired a nostalgic pang within Bakura's chest. Atop this, a camera situated upon a stunted tripod glowered down on the two beings in the room, its red light snapping on the second the television did. Electricity was occurring somewhere, but while he could hear the construction work progressing outside, he could not discern the sound of a generator.
He must have had quite an expression upon his face, for Greylancer nodded, and there was a touch of a sneering smile as he continued his business. The vampire detached the microphone from its hanging position and clicked the button on its side three times. A bit of feedback filtered through, producing an interesting pattern: *click* buzz *click* buzz *click* buzz.
Maybe a message, but honestly, it sounded more like an attempt to garner someone's attention—in an annoying fashion.
"So, you can try to be funny, after all," Bakura muttered, knowing the man could hear.
However, Greylancer ignored the comment and spoke a few technical and acronym-like phrases into the microphone. A fuzzy sound scratched out from the speaker before a familiar voice returned the garbled code. "Hand me over," they said after they were through, and the light from the television blipped from low static to a scene from within an office. The face to match the voice appeared on the screen as the receiver of this call sat down.
The microphone jumped from the vampire's hand to Bakura's in a quick exchange almost too fast for his eyes. He stared at the rounded thing in confusion, looking back to Greylancer, who only nudged him to center him in the camera's eye.
"She awaits your response," he stated coolly.
Bakura pressed the push to talk button, looking at the whole of the machinery in surprise. He had expected more from the ones who would call themselves Nobility. The grainy texture dancing about the screen lit his face before it fizzled in and out, creating a confusing vision. If she had the same type of relaying device, or if he did, Bakura would be in the clear. This would cover any real defining features that would betray him. Still, he knew there had been larger, better equipped televisions on the market before all had gone to hell—but this was all they had to use? His face shifted beneath the mask; a wide grin teased upon the visible cheek. "Amelia!" he crowed into the piece in his hand. "Is this really a thing? Are you there? You aren't just a recording, right?"
"Dream Eater," her voice resonated through the speaker in a fizzling wave. "It is good to hear your voice."
"I wish it was under better circumstances," Bakura said, rubbing the back of his neck. There was a desk behind him with a few stacked books and metal containers; he leaned against it, using his hip to prop himself as he crossed one ankle over the other. Greylancer moved around the table, watching his face, circling like a bird of prey.
"Likewise. Tell me, why did your previous mission fail? I've heard nothing from you or those who you were to be in contact with."
His gaze dropped to the floor with unfeigned devastation. "The person you told us to meet was dead. We managed to feign ignorance, but something—or someone, we think—tipped the locals off that we were somehow related to your contact. We were attacked shortly thereafter."
"How did you manage to defend yourselves? Certainly, that would have been quite a number of people to go against."
"Ryuji…"
The warping projection of her face pinched in sadness. "I had heard. I am sorry to hear he is gone, and for your loss. I know you two had grown quite close."
"If I had known—"
"Let us not dwell on that matter. So, he defended you to the very end, but still, with the population that area originally boasted, how did you manage to flee? Not everyone came, I am guessing?"
"No. We had many of our own turn on us. However, we managed to escape thanks to your friends that you sent along with us," he said perking up a bit. "In those surprise crates of yours. Although we haven't seen them in a minute. They went to go find more of your people, and we were supposed to meet up again, but then before we reached our designated rendezvous point, we were made aware of another presence."
"Of?"
"Them. The pair you were searching for. But they weren't a pair any longer. That's what caught our attention."
"Their numbers grew? To what size?"
"We never got a definite count. They scattered as soon as they were found out, but I've been tracking your guy for quite some time now."
She nodded, pressed her fingers together and then to her lips, and went quiet in thought. Bakura waited, tapping the side of his foot on the dirt floor, feeling the laser-like gaze of Greylancer bore through him. He was not worried yet; nothing he had said had been contradictory to his previous tale.
Finally, she spoke. "This is wonderful news to round out the bad. We may yet achieve justice in some form. Lord Greylancer, you are right in your insistence that he needs to speak with him. This is far too important for me to relay second hand."
Now he was worried.
"You can vouch for him?" Greylancer asked, coming back around, and taking the microphone from Bakura's hands.
"I vouch for Dream Eater, yes. No mimic stands before you; he is the real one. This person has done me many favors that I do not believe anyone human and duplicitous would have risked. He has a family, you know."
"Forgive me for questioning," Greylancer grinned, but it read as sinister in the dim light rather than mirthful. "Your track record in trust has been marred as of late."
"I beg of you, don't remind me," she snorted. "Dream Eater, have you really not seen our former ally Arthur lately?"
"No," Bakura replied, his response a little sudden as Greylancer jabbed the microphone in his face.
"Well, if you do, dear, please kill him for me? This is quite a thing to put on your plate, I know, but it is for posterity. We have lost good and honest people because of his choices, both you and I."
"I…Of course."
"There's a good boy. Now, don't be a stranger! And Greylancer? If possible, do outfit him. He looks absolutely ill-equipped for the task."
"We will provide what is within our means," the vampire beside him said.
"May the glory of the Sacred Ancestor bring about a new night—"
"—and may we be there to aid him in his endeavors," Greylancer finished before the pair signed off.
Surreal. That was how Bakura felt as they hung up with his first hurdle. The atmosphere of the tent had somehow both lightened and tensed further. The paradox of emotion was a cocktail of his horror in who he would have to speak with next, and with Greylancer's relaxed aura. It seemed Amelia's word still swayed minds even this far from her base of operations, although she was (based on his observation) slightly lower on the power scale than the one before him. Whatever the situation, Bakura knew that what was now about to occur would be thought of as an "honor"—although, as he tried not to grind his teeth in apprehension—and he would have rather been anywhere else at this very moment. He hoped that D and the others were doing well. He hoped they did not worry.
He hoped D was not angry.
This time, instead of clicking and speaking in coded language, Greylancer switched over frequencies and cleared his throat before pressing the button, stating, "Greylancer, Section 3, reporting in, over."
An unfamiliar voice came over the speaker, less garbled than the last time, but the screen did not flicker with an image. It remained peppered with its snowy static. "Base 1 hears you, over."
"Request correspondence with His Majesty, over."
"Reason, over?"
"Regarding Issue #156234-D, over."
Bakura waited throughout the long procedure of confirmation clutching his hands until they strained white at the knuckles. No video so far, good. Less distortion within responses, bad. If he had been wrong…well it did not matter now. He had made his choice.
Still, he wondered if that whole numerical "issue" was a recent development. Was it something that denoted a relation to Bakura's adversary, and if so, had he really had that many problems? Was it how many developments he had had to deal with regarding his son? Or was that how the boy's name was known…? No.
He could not think like that.
Tempering the involuntary rage, Bakura swallowed hard when Greylancer finally received confirmation. They would be talking with the man himself.
There was a buzz, a shivering wave of static, and then a familiar voice crackled over the rigged together radio.
"Greylancer. It is odd to receive a call from you at this time, considering your duties, although the interruption is plenty welcome. Apologies for the lack of visual, I am currently not in the main office."
The static snapped to silence. An answer was needed.
"Forgive me for any disruption I may cause, Great One," Greylancer began. "I know that you have been busy and have just returned from your travels, but this is an important aside from my responsibilities, I assure you."
"You don't need to be so formal, Greylancer. Your family has done me a great service, especially you. Go on."
"I have someone here who claims to be on the trail of your son's kidnapper."
Palpable silence filled the room. Then a chuckle emitted from the speaker. "It's a bit more complicated than that, but I'll humor you. How did this…individual…know my child was missing?"
"He's a human under the employ of Lady Amelia Lupei."
Another moment of chilling silence. "Interesting," he noted finally. "Well, that one has one step over our lot in loyalty, wouldn't you say?"
A laugh escaped Greylancer much to Bakura's surprise. "As you would. I thought it may be best to hear what he has to say via the source himself, rather than miss anything in the retelling."
"Wise choice, as always."
Once more the microphone was urged into Bakura's hand. Summoning all his fortitude, he grasped it in one hand and offered his unknowing captor a nervous little grin and a thumbs up.
"It's not every day we 'humans' get to talk to this guy, right?" he asked in a conversational jest.
"No," came the curt reply.
"Well, wish me luck!" he continued, laughing as if this whole situation was a joke. Inwardly, his blood felt cold, his heart pounded. He felt as if he were about to start sweating on the spot, hot, sick at the old and unexpected memories that resurfaced; lights dancing in his hazy, dazed vision. Pain. That voice murmuring something in curiosity, amusement, or disappointment. Heat like the desert flared behind his eyes and he blinked them fast to set them watering. He had to contain himself. Greylancer was watching.
Hide in plain sight…
"So, you're the big important guy, huh? Honored to meet you, Sir? My Liege?" Bakura chattered, hoping his inflection would be bolstered by the terrible audio and remain undetectable. "Sorry, I don't know what title is appropriate, but I could try on a few more for you if you'd like. The name is Dream Eater. No fancy title to my knowledge."
"Dream Eater?"
"That's right! Dream Eater at your service, your Great Grand Big Guy-ness."
The line went silent for a moment, and Bakura could not read whether he was amusing Greylancer, or just pissing him off. Still, he felt he was getting back into the role he had played when he had been Amelia's lackey.
He recognized the amused inhalation of air from his previous experience with the man and held back a shudder when the sound from the other end kicked in once more. "And who are you traveling with, Dream Eater?"
Even coming from the grainy sound system, his voice boomed. Bakura maintained his neutral face and answered as if there had been no pointedness to the question.
"Currently, I travel with three of my adult companions…not here presently, of course. That is in addition to my child, my niece, and two children that belonged to friends that perished while we were escaping that whole betrayal mess." The lie that was not much of one slipped from him with ease.
"Currently?"
"Well…people did die," he clarified, surprised at his own flat and blunt tone. "And my sister went with a portion of us that split off in the opposite direction. We're supposed to meet up in a few days and compare notes with what we've found, signs of them, the lack thereof—or if we've already dealt with the problem."
"Hm. What did Lady Lupei relay to you regarding this problem?"
Bakura clicked his tongue just behind his teeth. "Ah, she said something along the lines of 'four people' who 'have done an affront to The Great One' and specifically that 'His own son had been stolen away' by the head person in that gig. I'm sorry, my memory isn't one hundred percent accurate on the asking, just that she said it was something to be done." His jovial tone dropped as he added Amelia's account for what the "offending" group would look like and then finished with, "I take my job very seriously sir, even if I've been told I don't take other things serious enough. She helped my family. I owe her something, and I suppose, by proxy I owe you."
"I see." A pause. "Describe our guest's appearance for me, Greylancer. If we ever meet, I wish to know who I am looking at."
Greylancer did as requested, and Bakura found his portrayal at odds with how he saw himself. Honestly, if it were not for the mask that might spark more interest for its simple existence, he might have passed as any other person. How much had he changed?
"Why the mask?" There came the obvious question.
"It was a gift from Ame—I mean Lady Lupei. I lost an eye before arriving at her city and she devised it for me as a gift for my work. My group also tends to wear masks as we would rather not pass around illness—considering how far we've traveled—so it is a two-fold thing."
"Your summation, Greylancer?"
The look on the other's face went thoughtful. "He is purposefully obnoxious at times to be sure, but I would not have wasted your time if I did not feel he were earnest with his intel."
"Then let it be known, Dream Eater, that my son was taken by his own volition, an interesting turn of events for you to hear, I'm certain. Many see this as a kidnapping regardless, whereas I see this as a childish experiment gone on too long. He needs to be returned home—his person unharmed. Unfortunately, I fear that he has gotten too attached to save him from heartbreak. The boy is intelligent and has a good moral base but is also willful to a fault. Thus, he might fight you. Along with this, he seems to have developed an interesting new talent I have been unable to pinpoint its origins or to reproduce. So, if you happen upon him, and he knows you are after him, do be careful. The last thing we need is the loss of a sensible sort, and he will try to take you down.
"Moreover, there has been a change in party composition from your last orders. My son was no longer with his original 'captor' when I last saw him. When this separation occurred, I am not certain, but I cannot say I am pleased."
"Oh?" Bakura cut in, his curiosity getting the better of him. He ignored the look of shock in Greylancer's eyes—easy enough to spot when the rest of the man's face did not budge—and continued. "Why aren't you? Wouldn't it be better if he were away from the one that took him in the first place?"
"I knew that man enough to know my child was…generally safe. Bakura Ryou rightly understood his own life was not as valuable and would have made some attempt of defense at the expense of it. As of now, those my son is surrounding himself with ended up requiring more of his aid than he theirs. I find this a massive failure on his impromptu caretaker's part, and I am a bit tired of suffering his existence. He's been a thorn in my side for too long, and he can't even perform his duties—simple duties that he took on by force, I may add—for my son. Only a fool would leave him in such inept hands."
"Ah."
There was a brief pause, and Bakura guessed the vampire was composing himself. There had been a surprising amount of stifled rage in that voice. A rage that he similarly beat down within, along with the mounting guilt for the partially deserved tongue lashing. He had made mistakes he needed to own up to…but how dare this failure of a father point it out to him.
Then the buzzing sound of speaker usage clicked on once more. "Still, if you think you are on Bakura Ryou's trail specifically, you should be wary. He also has a fascinating trick I am looking into, so if he does decide to show his face once more, take him out before he has the chance to slip away. I cannot quite explain it, but if used it could have a catastrophic effect on more than just you. I have no grasp of the area of effect such a thing may possess."
Bakura cleared his throat. "What, does he have a bomb or something?"
When the other spoke next, he could hear the remnants of laughter in his voice. "No, I think not. It is a little more on the supernatural side."
"Great. So, knock him out before I bring him to you."
"Oh, no. End him. While I may have use yet for what remains of him after you deal with the issue, the one called Bakura Ryou is not to be left alive."
"Understood." Was his stomach cold? Hot? Burning? All he knew is that it felt heavy.
"This is for your safety of course. I would rather he not wake up in your care and kill you and your family. Take care of it quickly, for your sake..."
Elsewhere, where the depths of exhaustion consumed like the pit that was the night, a ragtag band had finally slowed their march. D squinted at the ruins of the map in Albert's hand and assessed that their hustling group had just entered the remains of a town that…
"Damn it," he grumbled low in time with the others' vehement cursing.
…was completely blotted out by a dark stain.
"Could Mokuba have taken a little more care as to where he was 'dropping ink by accident'?"
"Maybe it was an actual accident?" Theo guessed. "If it's honestly this worthless."
"No," Jounochi said, running a hand back and forth through his hair. "If Arthur saw what he saw, then it makes sense. This was probably one of the routes marked on another map. By 'accidentally' ruining it, we can't be sure where they might have been marking the rest at, unless we knew what we were looking for."
"But if it's where they might have gone, isn't it technically marking it?" Claire asked. "If you're really trying to throw people off, why not just dunk the whole…where'd he even get ink like this, anyway?"
"Yeah," Amami agreed, "If you're not trying to be specific about it, shouldn't it be all over the place? But then again it wouldn't look much like an accident that way."
"And to be fair," Albert stated, "is anyone going to look too hard at a messed-up map?"
"If they're looking for a clue based on another map, maybe," Theo added in.
"I'm really thinking about that ink though," Claire said. "Did he break, like, a lot of pens?"
"A bit irrelevant, don't you think?" D began before having to sidestep a swipe at him.
"Look," Jounochi said, distracting them from an impending bickering match by pointing to the blackened space. "Most of the ink is spilled this way. It looks natural, but it doesn't actually hide where we can guess the end of our travels are. Once we reach the water's edge, we can just follow the coast until we find a road that takes us towards Istanbul. That would probably be what they expected Bakura to do."
"All it requires is just going south," D muttered, nodding, still sidestepping but no longer emotionally invested in Claire's building annoyance.
"And what would need to be blotted out?"
"Places that might be obvious to rest at. Bigger cities that head south."
"Easier to hide by stumbling into smaller towns."
"And an empty map would just seem like a stupid keepsake," Claire interjected breathlessly.
"But if someone knew there were possible routes…" D said.
Albert snapped his fingers. "Then it could be assumed that the bulk of them would follow what's inside that giant ink stain. If we continue to travel where it seems like we have no direction for, we have some probability of running into one of the groups!"
"But only if they stay on route."
"Or travel at a slower speed than we do."
"One person may travel faster than a group, so long as they are not injured," Arthur joined in. "But that's not the issue now, is it? We have a whole new problem, so can we focus on that?"
"So long as I can say that all of this was convoluted as hell," Albert said, waving his hand at the creased paper before him.
Jounochi shrugged. "We figured it out eventually."
"Yeah, but only after how many months, and how could anyone have been sure that Bakura would have on his own?"
"Either by a lot of faith, or they really were ready to make that sacrifice."
"Focus!"
"Agreed," D chimed in, holding Claire away with his foot and wanting to be done with this conversation. It did little good for them now.
They stored their camping gear in the remains of one abandoned home and pressed on.
Within the remains of a community bombarded by warfare lay freshly constructed buildings of a more defensive nature. A curious mix of modern and old; the aesthetic of ancient castle contrasted with the modern plates affixed to its upper towers, in perfect position for the sun to shine upon them at all points in the day. A date could not be prescribed to just how new this had been developed, but the general appearance and the scent of what wood was utilized in the structure hit D with a strength that denoted "recent".
It was also heavily guarded on the outside.
"What rotten luck," Jounochi grumbled, his face crushed as he followed the sliver of a shadowy outline that stood at attention near the entrance.
"You are sure that they are here?" Albert asked and received a nod from the vampire.
"Yes. From what I was able to gather for you before heading your way is that this building is sister to another some miles away that is about halfway through construction," Arthur said. "There could be a chance that some could be moved to that one—"
"Barring that they still live when the time comes," D said darkly.
"Don't say that!" Amami whispered, shuddering.
"—to weaken their resolve in their separation," Arthur ended flatly.
"And you saw them being dragged into there?" Theo asked.
"Those I named."
"Then the sooner we get them out of there, the better," D said, adjusting his coat sleeves. "Let's discuss our options."
Etsu had managed to fall asleep once more in the midst of their hushed debate. D had offered to play the decoy, but that was shot down before he even finished his pitch. A frontal assault would be suicide, although Arthur inferred from the plans that he had been made aware of before his defection that any opening would be just as guarded, if not more so. Each idea they ran through seemed to be more unrealistic than the last, and fatigue built its hold on each of them as the minutes ticked by into hours.
"Ugh," Claire grumbled. "If Bakura were here, he could have just done that weird monster thingy he can do, and we'd probably be in and out before anyone noticed!"
"We could go back for him."
"We might not have the time," Jounochi said, motioning to Arthur. "He said this was urgent. We need to help them now."
"If we sit here and argue, we run the risk to have wasted just as much," D countered.
"Or that they just spot us here," Claire said, rolling her eyes.
"If we wait until day?"
"Then why wouldn't we just go get Bakura?"
"Oh, just make a damned decision already!" Albert hissed. "If we don't have time, we are surely fucking them over more by waffling like we are. You've shat on all of our ideas," he added, swiveling to face the vampire, "so what would be your plan? Or did you just show us to taunt us that some of our own are stuck in there?"
"Why would I waste my time on that?" Arthur inquired coolly.
"Who knows? But if we are going to get your help in this, we need you available. Waiting for day is a no go. D…what time is it?"
"Nearing three."
"So, we have at most a few hours before the sun rises. We hold D and Arthur in the wings—they're our muscle. Jounochi, his dad already has seen you, right?"
"Yes?"
"Then you're going to be with them." Albert tapped his temple as if he were trying to categorize something in an invisible file cabinet. "Theo…Your arm isn't what it used to be, but technically you are stronger than me. You take care of Etsu and Amami if anyone comes this way. Claire will set up her rifle and be your gun and our sniper, if necessary."
"What are you going to do?" Jounochi asked.
Albert shifted. A grimace set upon his face as he faced it back toward those standing guard. "I…am going to go knock on that door."