The Magicians' Realm Chapter 126: Severed Threads, a yu-gi-oh fanfic

Chapter 126, everybody! Yeah like I warned y'all before, these end chapters are going to suck.

Friendly reminder that asking for a lawyer is not an admission of guilt, and it's actually recommended that you have one present whenever you're questioned by the police. Room 101 also doubles as a reference to George Orwell's 1984, and is 'the worst room in the world.'

References:

Original characters, + setting © Kineil D. Wicks (myself, not the girl in the story)

Teana had the sinking feeling she was dying today.

She was tied to a chair in an interrogation room, the same room and chair she had seen in several of the bad threads—try to compose herself, sort through the threads—if Thomas Montgau was the one who came in, her chances were good. Anyone else, and she might as well write out her last will and testament.

How had this gone so wrong? Had it always been out of her control? Or had she caused it by trying to stop it, by looking at the threads and doing her best to stop the worst of them? If she had never told Detective Pleasant about Kineil's death—

Painful thump—Kineil was dead, and so were Hephaestus and Vulcan; their threads were gone, severed, and so were Idgy and Jack's. And then Max, who had gone down screaming at Administrator Serpine pointing at him—

He's not dead but he'll wish he was.

Start at the doorknob turning—please be Montgau, please be Yami, please be someone good—

Felt her heart sink at the man coming in—that face was attached to no good threads.

"Well well well, don't you look guilty," the guy said, sidling in, something about him feeling slimy.

"I want a lawyer," she said quickly—maybe stalling would help—Yami needed time to find her—

"And that just cements it," the guy said, leaning forward. "Where's Skellington?"

"I want a lawyer."

"Answer the question, then you can get one."

"That's not how the law works."

"It is today." Grip her jaw painfully, the contact making several threads twang—"Where is Skellington?"

"You don't want him," she told him.

"Oh we do."

"You don't want him," she maintained. "He's going to kill you when he finds me." That much was seared across her mind—this man's death was going to be painful, literally torn apart, and she barely recognized Yami through his fury.

And you know why he's going to be that way.

"Lady," the guy said, letting go and circling. "If you don't answer the question there's not going to be anything of you to find."

She was trembling, hands gripping the handles—there was a way out of this, try valiantly to grasp for the one good thread—

But she had gone too long without an answer—the man belted her across the face, leaving her gasping, more stunned than hurt—and then the pain started blossoming across her face.

"Now," the man said, putting his hands on hers and squeezing hard. "You're going to tell me where Skellington is, and you're going to tell me now."

Yami—telling this man had a few threads where she got out of this alive.

Telling this man left no threads where Yami did also.

There was one—she didn't say anything, held on—Yami would save her. He'd save her, they'd flee, never stopping until they hit the Western Chaos Coast—she had to hold on to that thread—

Hold on through another brutal slap—

Another one—

A yank on her hair—

Another slap that made something in her head snap painfully—

She had to hold on to that thought, had to hold on to that thread.

Yami will save me.

The man swore. "Tell me where he is right now!" Unhinged, something in his tone—

"You're afraid," Teana said, realizing. "You know I'm telling the truth, that he'll come after you—you know what he'll do to you once he's found you. Once he's seen me, and what you've done to me—"

And then the guy struck her again—

And she felt something break.

*\*/*

Greg Montgau had puzzled until his puzzler was broke.

The Administration was in full swing, preparing for Halloween tomorrow, but there were some things naggling at the back of Greg's mind, worrying his nerves like a dog worried a bone.

Yami had told him that he was the one who had put the scroll back, but Greg knew his son's magic imprint, and the one on the scroll didn't match his son's—it didn't match anyone he knew, or anyone still in the records. There were several pages missing, and he reasoned that somewhere in those missing pages was a match, but there was no way to know.

Greg leaned back in his desk chair. Perhaps Yami's magic was maturing further, strengthening itself and thus changing his imprint. Greg didn't like that notion: it meant his son was growing up without him. He could just hear his father Edward now: "I told you to play catch with the boy!"

That prompted a scowl. "I did play catch with him," he said out loud, although he knew full-well his father couldn't hear him; he was with his wife Kitty visiting his brother's family, and they wouldn't be back until tomorrow afternoon at best.

He cracked his knuckles nervously; Yami had been acting strangely lately, and so had Yuki—both were unnaturally subdued, something that was definitely out of character for them. Yami had been trying to tell him something, Greg was sure, but he wasn't sure what.

He tapped his fingers for a few minutes and then stood up; he had to find out what was bothering his sons.

Erskine Ravel stuck his head in.

"There you are!" he exclaimed. "Come on! There's a few more things we have to get finished!"

Greg followed him, a new problem nagging at his mind like a swollen tick. "Does something seem weird about this Halloween?" he asked.

"I noticed that too," Ravel mused. "But the Administration said they wanted this Halloween to be the biggest ever—I don't know why, but I do know they're planning something."

Greg looked at his fellow Grand Mage; although he was the Head Mage, he—like the Head Administrator—had other fellow Magicians directly under him, to assist in day-to-day duties. He appreciated the extra help: today, for example, was one of the days he definitely needed it.

"Bigger bonfires, bigger reveling, especially after the bare September and absent Harvest Festival," he muttered. "Something's off."

"But what?" Ravel asked.

"I don't know," Greg admitted. "But I aim to find out before midnight tomorrow—you know what that means."

Ravel nodded. "I'll help any way I can."

"Good."

And the two Magicians continued down the hall, planning to stop whatever sinister undercurrent they detected.

*/*\*

Thomas was steaming as they came back from the latest raid.

His attempt at trying to deflect some of this had gone sour, no lawyer was willing to touch this and risk the Administrators' ire—this was a culling, and the average denizen of Delvaire was cowering in their home and praying this would all be over soon. And then what he heard on the teleradio—

Head Mage Skellington had tried to kill the Administrators. He was a danger to society, him and his followers, and needed to be stopped.

Sumbinix had hijacked the radio station and was trying to assure the populace, citing the various raids on those who had liaisons with Skellington—which, judging by the list, was most of Delvaire and a goodly chunk of the surrounding area. The Gypsian camp was a smoking ruin, the Revue was still burning solidly, and many other homes had been raided, the people inside dragged out and loaded up into the meat wagon.

It was a perversion of everything he had ever stood for, and every time he tried to buck and rage against the system an Administrator was there to punish him for it. Good men made to do this, made to kill themselves if he stepped out of line—

There had to be a way to stop this, a way to get to Skellington specifically and end this—

The beau. Teana. She was in an interrogation room at base. If he could get to her, reason with her, get her to help him—use her as bait, and then when Skellington came—

Skellington had tried to kill the Administrators—Thomas intended to succeed.

"Oh boss you're back," Purvis said, looking up sharply from the ledgers he was going over—"Nervous" Purvis, everyone called him, small and wiry with glasses, too young to be caught up in this.

"I'm interrogating the beau," Thomas told him. "Is she still in room 101?"

Purvis' expression wasn't a good sign. "She—Scumbers is in there with her—"

One of the Administrator's goons. This was bad.

Barrel for the back rooms, for the first interrogation room—

Scumbers turned, startled at his sudden entrance—

Got shoved against the wall as Thomas zeroed in on the crumpled woman tied to the chair, tugging the ropes free as he tried to rouse her.

"Teana? Teana, can you hear me?" Thomas asked, putting a hand on her to check for a pulse—he wasn't a doctor, nor a medical man by any means, but he knew what he saw wasn't good.

And so he rounded on the one responsible.

"What did you think this would accomplish!?" he thundered—if he were a Magician, the lights would have all blown.

"I thought—I thought I could get her to talk—"

Thomas dismissed him for the moment, opting instead to scoop Teana up and speed out of the office and to the hospital, pausing only to toss one order back:

"Make sure he doesn't go anywhere," he said, jerking his head. "We have a little present for Skellington."