Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! or Vampire Hunter D.

Hello everyone who is reading this! I have no idea who is...if anyone is...stats being broken as they are.

First off: Happy Halloween! I hope that you all have a good one, and that this serves as a little treat when you are winding down.

Next on the docket: BIG Trigger warnings for this one. We are going full tilt into some of the gnarly VHD shenanigans, more than the usual gore that shows up, such as seeing more results of forceful experimentation, pregnancy (adult characters for necessary story movement/progression into the VHD world etc...), mentions of suicide, and other true horror things.

Normally, I'd say skip certain areas, but...it's all sort of...everywhere this chapter. And it's all necessary, sorry to those a little more sensitive to some topics.

By the by, if anyone would like to give me a treat and just even review with a "Hi! I'm still reading this!" that would be sweet of you.

Now...Enjoy!

Chapter Seventy-One: Allegiance

Not having anyone following him did make the journey there easier. With his hearing abilities, he was confident of the origin source's direction, and so cut a straight line over the varying and difficult terrain without pause. His hand railed against him for a few miles but soon enough the repetitive grousing became a mind-numbing buzz, and he was able to ignore him. The sound he had previously heard to cause the fevered pace he kept did not repeat, but the closer he got to his supposed destination, it was unneeded. The scent of heated metal and other industrial components in this otherwise wild world became hint enough. The fact he could also smell what constituted as no more than an echo of stored and aging blood confirmed it.

He had found another outpost.

D pressed his body against the grey bark of the tree nearest him, aware that it was doing little to hide him from anyone watching. Yet, he did not feel that he was being watched. Tilting his head down, he could not hear any strange click or whirr from nearby foliage denoting a monitoring camera. No human fragrance touched him either, at least, nothing recent. He scanned the area with a scrutinizing gaze before moving forward, searching for where the sound originated from.

The light of day warmed the scene as evening loomed. Picturesque and unbothered, a pathless area led the boy to roam among the grassy hills and sidestep the shallow beds of overeager leaves that had left their stations too soon due to harsh weather in pursuit of his quarry. While not the familiar evergreen forest that his trio had wintered within in the west, and not quite like the one by their cavernous lodgings, the place held its charm. If he was not searching for some strange, invisible fortress, he may have been content to stay. It would not have been a terrible place to wait for Bakura—he could hear the skittering of animal life in the brush, and he bet that with all the lush life that surrounded him he must be almost within hearing distance of a river. The chances of being found here were just as good as anywhere else. And if he was never found? Such a cozy place would not be so bad to settle into and become a hermit.

Unfortunately, residing in a hermitage was not for him. His mind already turned with self-imposed goals, finding the location of the fort being only one of them. He still had to uphold his promise and help Bakura…and in turn, work with the boy in his "dreams" to repair the damaged relationship in that not-dream world. The longer he travelled, the more he became certain that peace was not meant for him. Oh, he longed for it; longed for those simple days where the worst of his worries were cups of bad tea and spitting out animal fur after he solved his hunger in the short-term. Was it too much to ask for?

At least his friends tolerated him, their little "not a person" that had enough tact and self-control to be of use. D bit his lip to rouse himself out of his thoughts then. Even his daydreams were poison. He did not know how long he could maintain such behavior. Each time he revisited a world he had been so used to in his youngest days, far back enough that they just faded into hazy nothings, the more he was appalled and frightened of turning into the same. It was bad enough to think it, and he dared not speak it. His hand had finally stopped long enough to take in a breath of air. That silence was too good not to relish.

In his search, D had been careful not to muss up the surrounding vegetation just in case someone was to pop up from the ether and track him down. Yet he had seen nothing at all to indicate that there ever had existed something to create such a sound as he had heard. The silence was cozy, but also unhelpful. The metallic smell had reached its zenith as well, for if he wandered too far at any of the points in the clearing that he had just meandered into, it would begin to fade. Craning his neck as he glanced over each shoulder, he realized that if there were to be a gate, some type of structure had to be visible, and there were nothing but trees and brambling bushes that welcomed him. He stomped his feet in childish agitation.

It was in this way his foot connected with metal that lay hidden underneath a swath of old plant life that had bunched together in a natural pile to decay. He paused, becoming so still as to seem a statue, and once he was certain no one had been alerted, he carefully lifted his foot to see what he had struck.

A round grate greeted him, its silvery checkered maw leading down a gullet of darkness with no proper end in sight, even to his eyes. Its diameter was a little larger than his foot was long, big enough that he would be able to mash both legs into it if he removed the grate, but small enough that he would get caught up at his thighs were he to try sliding down it. It felt so out of place in a realm of groves and thickets. As he reflected on this, he noticed something else. A small trickle, more like dragging droplets of moisture were sliding down the piping, originating from the soft earth that surrounded the fixture. He lifted his head and twisted it left and right, inspecting the land once more. He must have missed something.

The land was mostly flat, perhaps just sunken enough to create a small pool during a heavy rain that would give rise to more of the grasses that already coated the area; or inspire burgeoning saplings. A pretty future of nature's full return to power. Undisturbed, that was. This manmade intrusion was some kind of drain that would slow or annihilate such aspirations.

Why create a drain? Why waste that sort of time, effort, and materials? The boy pondered an answer. Drains meant some type of building. There was no building present, but he had sensed something that stated such a thing did exist nearby. There also had to be more drains if it was something large enough to match the sound he had heard—the boy searched and found there were multiple nigh imperceptible pipes that led down into nothingness. This meant a faster draining…maybe weight was a concern? Weight…and tree roots would cause damage to buildings if left to grow at their leisure…

The boy angled his attention down at the ground beneath his feet. He then kneeled and pressed both his ear and the palm of his left hand against the earth. The exercise left him oddly centered. "Listen," he commanded the pouting thing that lived within that appendage.

They both did so, and both heard the same thing.

"Is that…?" his left hand began.

"Electricity," he said with conviction. "What I heard wasn't below ground, but this affirms without a doubt that we're in the right place. Something was built below here."

"But where's the entrance?"

D frowned and stood once more. Without answering, he stalked off to his right. This was where he had seen a natural decline in the ground begin as he had continued up the hill to the point where he had found the strange drain. There might have been a road there or maybe this hill was more mountain than it appeared. He remained careful of surveillance as he picked his way to what indeed was a ledge that looked down upon a well-kept road. There he analyzed the wall of stone that faced said road and realized that the scent of what he had been looking for was here as well.

"The laboratory or fortress is underground somewhere around here," his hand noted. "I mean, I guess we should have figured that one out—it's a favorite."

D did not respond. Rather he kept searching for an entrance. Where was it hidden? Would they open the gate again? Had it been a malfunction?

"I know you are just dying to know what's going on in this little neck of the woods, but that doesn't mean we actually need to die for it," his hand continued. "If you really are adamant about going it alone, we could just leave. Y'know, live our lives, stay out of this whole mess. Or, or, let me run this one by you—once we find the door, you knock on it, give a little apology, throw your father's name out there and ask to go home."

"The moment that you have something useful to say, say it," D murmured. "Otherwise, shut up."

"As wonderful a conversationalist as always."

"Why bother when you never stop talking?"

"Ouch," it mocked.

He just turned the palm to face him and stared into the corkscrew like visage that rested there. D then sighed and placed it against the sharp ledge they lay just beyond, using it to brace for the bulk of his weight when he leaned over to get an even better view of the rocky mass. A true grunt of pain was released from it, but he did not much care. Something had caught his discerning eye. There was a seam!

Somehow, by whatever ingenuity they possessed, those who worked for his father's cause had managed to use the rockface (or created something that looked enough like it as a replacement) to hide the very wide entrance of their base. A regular trap-door spider contraption. They must have had their pick of any poor, unaware soul that crossed their path this way. Observatory cameras certainly lined the crevasses going to and from this area. No one stood guard, however. Nor was there any sign of a method to open the entrance from the outside.

D was tempted to crawl his way down to try and pick at the massive doorway, to see if there was some sort of latch or button that would undo it, but both common sense and the resumption of the very sound that had previously drawn him there held him back.

He leapt away from the ledge, flattening himself against the ground while a rumbling screech shook the earth beneath him. The caws and tweets of birds rang out as they flitted away in fear, and the same went for the squeaks and squeals of animals hiding in the underbrush. He could hear the natural whirs and sliding of the door in its assigned slots, but certain points of the transfer sounded like they needed to be oiled badly. The boy wondered in silence if it was age or weather that affected the hinges and gears so. Once the disharmony ended (faster than he could have ever guessed), D braved glancing back down the ledge to see who would emerge.

No one did. The secret lair lay bare to the world with so much fanfare, and the only interested creature present to bear witness seemed to be himself.

He waited. And waited. And waited. No one, not a thing emerged. He could not sense anyone or anything immediately below him.

The boy shifted. Stood. Began side stepping along the edge, keeping his attention on the entrance that he could see. Somehow, he doubted the place was empty, but no one had come to check. Was this the trap? No, it would be too obvious…his mind raced with possible answers. As it did, he continued to sidestep until he reached a place that would have a good viewpoint no matter how high or low that he went. He then tore his eyes away from the entrance and climbed down the side of this rocky protrusion, amazed that no one ever once exited the entrance.

"Don't do it," his hand cautioned when he took his first step upon the cracked and tar-repaired asphalt. "Don't!" it hissed while he stepped toward the entrance.

"Damnit!" it cried in muffled aggravation, as he balled his fists for the run that would take him the rest of the way there.

When he reached the mouth of the underground structure, he pressed himself against the rock wall once more. He felt an adrenaline rush from acting so much on his own, and wondered when the crash would come. Drawing on the high he had, he craned his neck to just barely peek inside. Nothing had stopped him so far, so what was the harm?

What greeted D was a near-lightless room, which mattered little to him, and the screen of a nearby control panel that blinked in and out of unentered commands. An electric smell hit his nostrils, and he gathered that a malfunction might have been the actual cause of the gate's lifting. He also held a good hypothesis for what might be causing the problem. If he let speculation rule, and assumed this outpost was only monitored by vampires through the sheer lack of response to the floundering system, then…

No one would be awake just yet.

The boy snuck into the observable room and crept up to the monitor. Delight raced through him. What lay before him was a mess. The whole thing. Apparently, his efforts had far-reaching consequences, which would undoubtably slow all work for some time.

"Good luck trying to complete any of your tests now, Father," he whispered into the air with a self-satisfied smirk.

"And that strange ship that was in that desert area?" his hand questioned.

D paused in his glee. "I'm sure it was handled already," he replied after a moment of introspection, waving dismissively. "They wouldn't be wasting resources on all of these experimental projects or the construction of new stations if they didn't have the situation covered."

"As if he has never been known to multi-task."

"For five seconds can you just be optimistic?"

"Hey. I'm your injection of factual information. I can't always be a gem to be around."

"I find your humor sorely lacking in quality, so at present I would prefer a little positivity toward my thought process."

"Last I checked you didn't like me lying to you. You're going to have to make up your mind here, D."

"I'm really losing my patience with you."

"Patience? Huh! Like I haven't had to be patient with your bullshit since we've left the damned lab in Japan!"

For a flash of a second, D recalled that his strange meetings with "the Darkness" tended to lack the presence of his symbiont, and he bemoaned the general inability to have the same instance at present. Then he recalled how beneficial it was to actually have the obnoxious creature by his side, and he quelled the acidic aggravation with the bitter pill of reason.

"Do you think since this door is open that the other locks may be undone?" he asked, ignoring its previous assertion. He eyed his palm with a threatening, stabbing glare, daring it to press on with its complaint. The katana was still strapped to his back after all. Maybe he could have temporary relief, even if the physical pain would be an obnoxious aftereffect.

"…Maybe?"

"Maybe?"

"You could try tugging on the door, although I don't know why you'd want to."

D nodded. He then moved to the nearest door in question. "Because there might be people inside that need our help."

"That need—Do you not remember what brought you here in the first place?! You were chased out by the very batch of people you stuck your neck out for last time!"

"I remember." And he did. It stung like salt in a gaping wound.

"So why even bother?"

His right hand was on the cool metal of the door. If he pulled it to the side, it might open. Or it might not. Either way, his mind was made up. Thus, he said nothing.

But in his mind and heart ran a simple but familiar phrase, "This world deserves a chance."

This laboratory boasted smaller accommodations, although the technological advances were more robust. As D passed by dead cameras hanging forlornly against their mounts (emergency generators likely reserving their energies for more important duties), he marveled at the idea of how automated the whole process was. There were mechanical arms built into the ceiling for unexplained purposes, that had built in routes by way of ceiling tracks. Emergency lighting dotted the floors, with just enough glow in their flickering bulbs to provide a proper pathway suited for vampires. The doors rested uselessly closed, only needing a shove to shift on its tracks and offer him access to whatever rested inside. Some of what resided within were medical materials stored neatly in labeled drawers, or cleaning agents lined up behind clear glass containers. In others lay operating tables with darkened screens, the scent of sterilization and blood permeating the area. Gurneys outfitted with straps lay on ends of the hallways, some attached to the sides of the walls, to be pulled along to whatever room the one in charge willed—probably reading the patient's file as they walked beside the moving table. All meant for the ease of the scientist and/or surgeon assigned to the area.

As he creeped further into the silent lab, he descended stairs and passed by other less interesting quarters. Studies with medical books (not that those were dull, but irrelevant to his purpose there), pages of disorganized notes, or notes neatly labeled with tabs, filled these places, decorated either with austere efficiency or excessive amounts of warm decorative furniture. He poked his head into what constituted as a sitting room, probably where the occupants dined in the comforts of plush chaises or love seats atop a wine-red carpet, clearly meant to be the nicest, most relaxing area available. He could see a tap where he did not doubt (from scent alone) recently stored blood would pour forth from, and the crystalline glasses that would hold it nearby. Considering the long coffee table, D also guessed they would bring the occasional human to binge on, letting them lay prone or unconscious upon the low surface, while they filled themselves as they pleased. He quickly left that area.

The first human that he came across left him speechless.

Perhaps it was because they were barely recognizable as a human that sent him stumbling out of the door, or because their lifeless form warned him of the statistical probability of what he would find if he continued his search and rescue operation. Regardless, he found himself with his back pressed firmly against the colorless wall that faced the interior of the prisoner's cell. The being in his hand let out a mean little snicker in response to his gut reaction, but silenced just as quickly once it realized that D intended on entering that room in full. With each complaint went another step, as if the warnings were inspiring the opposite response.

"Is this person alive?" D asked, hovering his left hand over the body once he had gotten close enough.

"Would you still consider this a person?" it inquired back.

D drew his lips into a thin line.

"Just asking."

"Are they alive?" he pressed, letting his flesh skim the pallid brow of whatever this individual had become. He smelled death, but that was also around every corner. He heard nothing, no heartbeat from the body, or breath of air. Still…

"Not in a way that most people would count it."

"I see."

"So…planning on killing it, or not?"

"I…don't know." The boy removed his hand and clutched it close to his chest. He struggled with the thought of deciding that for someone before him, unconscious, and nonconsenting, especially to the prior work done on them.

"You do realize your little jab at your father may have killed a few people, right?"

In retrospect, he did. While he had only intended it to affect the site they had been at prior, clearly the breach had hit other systems, and laboratories like these. If the gate was failing, and most of the power lost to the floors he had traversed down, what was to say that it had not cut off life support for someone else? How much stored wattage was there to fund the life-giving machines of the most tested "samples"? Would that death be better? Cleaner? Would they have even been aware? He did not know.

A groan hit his ears, but it was not from the person before him. It echoed a floor below. Called to him like no sense here had been able to do. He recognized that groan. That voice.

Leaving the poor undead being behind, D bolted down the hallway, down the stairs, and around corners where the groggy sounds of others began to awaken. Some sounded human, some not. Most of them sounded female.

Although not the one that he was after.

He employed his unnatural talent to bypass these unfortunate souls without a sound (just for now, he repeated in his mind) until he managed to pinpoint where the familiar groaning and soft whining was coming from. D paused at the mass of metal that housed the sounds, fingertips pressed at the ridges of the sliding door. He did not want to frighten who was inside, but he also did not wish to risk alerting anyone else of his presence just yet.

"This is why making a plan before you make a move is a good thing," his hand chided in a hush. "You're getting sloppy."

This mocking reprimand went ignored as usual and D, taking a deep breath, rolled open the bulky steel door to face the occupant there.

All pretense of stoicism fell from the child when he caught sight of what lay secured to the hospital bed. A bedraggled head of dark hair rocked to and fro upon the pillow as far as the belt around their throat would allow; sweat beginning to pool at the hairline as each second of wakefulness seemed to inspire a panic. The bed began creaking as the form rocked against their fastened straps, and D sensed something that sent an alarm to all his systems. He had felt this before. This very presence staring at him through a fog—or in the close quarters of an arsenal room.

"Impossible," he mouthed. That would have meant some type of radiation was at play. Yet, not enough to kill? Or something else. Something worse.

All he knew was this was not a success he was looking at.

"Mokuba-kun?" he ventured, his voice growing strength alongside his outrage.

The figure shifted to look forward, and D bit back a gasp. He had never seen Bakura in such a state, and the man had been under observation for years longer than the one before him. The prisoner's eyes gleamed with a catlike glow, and once they set upon him, they seemed to widen unnaturally.

"D…kun?" came his belabored whisper, with some of the air passing though sharp teeth that had sprouted from the upper gums to overtake the more blunted human canines. A longer portion of his bangs fell across his face, and he groaned again. His arms fought uselessly against his bindings, but D did not know how long that would remain true. Each movement seemed to beget a greater strength than the last, and there was something uncanny about the slight difference in length of both appendages he noticed from this angle. An IV drip linked to a darkened machine snaked from its hanging bag to said patient's lanky arm, drawing D's attention to the strange welts that peppered the sickly skin that faced him. The boy could not see the state of Mokuba's remaining leg; just that there were lumps under the covers on either side that hid his lower half from sight.

He wanted to ask what happened, but he already knew. He wanted to ask if he was okay, but clearly, he was not. He wanted to do anything to end what had to be an immeasurable amount of discomfort but did not know how.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked, unable to think of anything else.

"He..help me," he begged, fingers darkened by internal pooling blood flexing as if to beckon.

D nodded and moved to undo one of the restraining devices. Mokuba's head shook harder. He gave him a beseeching look, his face creasing with its intensity. "No…" he said, his voice clearing of whatever anesthetic he had been pumped with. "No. Just," his eyes flicked to just over the boy's shoulder, to the hilt of that favored weapon, "do this now. Fast."

"What!?" the boy exclaimed. He darted away from Mokuba's immediate vicinity, like being close enough would act as an agreement. "Why? Does it hurt that much?"

"Please…"

"What about your brother?!" he tried to reason, his panic breaking through at the end. "If he's here—"

"No," Mokuba negated. "He's not here. They took me away, to use me against…" He stopped and began breathing at a rapid pace. D hurried forward once more and undid the belt that held his neck to ease any claustrophobic feeling. "Please. I'm not. I'm not okay. I don't want him to see me like this!"

"You don't want Kaiba to see you?"

"It's not his fault. It would be better if he didn't know. They said they didn't kill me, they said…because he had promised anything to make sure I lived. He asked them to make sure I didn't die. But I had to be taken away for insurance.

One day they told me that he couldn't…couldn't give them what they wanted. But they said they told him I would still live because he tried. He tried. He didn't know what he was asking. What they were planning. One day it was like a hospital. The next…what they did to me and…"

D listened to the choppy story with a horror that had set his face to an unmoving neutral. It was as if his body could not decide if his anger, sadness, or fear should take precedent, and had settled on the concept of a numbness he did not feel. The agonized yowl that came from Mokuba sliced through his heart worse than any jab at his person. It reminded him too much of watching Bakura, dazed and always asking why. Talking to some figment of his imagination that he hallucinated as his sister or of when he fought until they quelled him enough in the operation room itself. But Bakura had never spoken much about what he remembered happening to him, and D had only ever known the practices in theory. Of course, he saw what remained of the failures, but he was never allowed to get close. Not until now. He had never known the experiments personally. Not until Bakura…and now Mokuba.

'My mother?' came the flittering thought, but it died as fast as it took flight with the next thought. 'There are probably others now.'

If they had taken Mokuba and done this to him, they had definitely taken the others. He trusted that ignorance and the omission of which group they were truly a part of would save their other aliases and those hiding under them from any direct damage, but this had spawned a new, much larger problem. It was not just Yugi and Mai that needed their assistance. It was all of his friends.

D snapped to attention to hear Mokuba rattle on with, "—I can't let them use my brother. I can't let my brother see what I've become. I'm a monster, I'm a—"

"Wait!" he commanded with such a force that the young man silenced instantly. The sound of the others in adjacent rooms quieted as well, like chided children for shouting too loudly in the house. "You are not a monster," he continued, "and you know your brother needs you."

"What?" he asked, shaking his head. "Can't you see—"

"Do you think I'm a monster?!" D questioned. "You know how I've felt this whole time, but do you really think I'm a monster?"

Mokuba looked at him with those eyes whose pupils shined in orange, yellow, and green. He tentatively shook his head.

"Think about it, then. You know me, and you say I'm not a monster. Me, the one born this way. No matter what happened to you, or what might happen to you on the way to our destination, while strangers might disagree, you will never be a monster in the eyes of your family. Your brother will always love you; he will want to see you again. The last thing he would want is for me to find him, and then explain that I…well, that you asked for that. No one in our group is going to think you are a monster because they know the truth. They'll know it's you."

'This is the first time I've so blatantly lied to a friend,' D reflected, undoing the man's other shackles. The dazed look on his face denoted that Mokuba was trying to reconcile these words amidst his dizzy haze. 'Not because I think he is a monster—that's all my father's peers' work that has made him look so different—but because he is different now. He will always be considered different…not a person. Because that's how they perceive me and Bakura-sama.'

Maybe it was easy for the one on the table to forget, and it would be best for the current situation if he did, but D could not. He remembered the cramped quarters of the below deck storage, and of the tears he let spill the first time he lost a friend to what he was.

'Yeah,' his hand agreed internally, 'It's better to remember that. Especially since you keep hanging around those people who would turn on you the moment they needed to. Stop letting yourself get hurt by things you can't change.'

D sighed in exasperation and chose not to respond in kind. Instead, he rolled down the blanket, and assessed what, if anything, had been altered below the waist. To his surprise, he did see two legs before him. One was Mokuba's regular leg, and the other…it was like the muscle had taken on the shape of tree roots above where his knee once had been and ran along the just barely visible metal bars beneath it, the silvery piping acting like bone. This amalgamation plunged to the foot area into something that did not quite look like a human foot but would be stable enough to run on if needed.

The boy observed this with scrutiny. Maybe not a success, but they had held plans for him, if they were working to replace what he had lost. Exposed muscle would be an issue unless they had done something to make it less vulnerable when presented to the elements—although depending on who oversaw the procedure, there might have been an element of torture involved. From what he had seen, he would not put the idea past ones who were so ready to violate every other thing that an ethics board would balk at. The thought made the boy sick, but the emotion just continued to filter into that strange numbness when presented on his face.

"So dizzy," Mokuba said as he sat up properly. His arms hung limp between the legs he now could spread. "So nauseous."

"What else are you feeling?" D queried. Leaving him to sort out and reacquaint himself with the additional mobility, the boy rummaged through the room to see if he could find anything of worth that would either explain the experiment performed, or what lasting changes had been made to Mokuba's structure.

"Hungry…"

"Oh? Even though your nauseous?"

"Yes. I…sorry. Hard to speak right now. Everything is spinning, and it hurts to talk."

"Refrain from it, then," D said. He chewed at the side of his cheek. Nothing. Nothing of worth at least. A general patient's chart was there, but instead of the familiar codes, it seemed that they were using some other system to monitor progress. He moved to chuck it against a wall in irritation, and restrained himself, instead placing it back where it belonged.

"You're…very calm?"

A laugh that would have been more distressing than amusing caught in his throat, barely touching his lips as a momentary lift. "Not at all, Mokuba-kun. But we need to be calm to get everyone out of here. Do you know if you were the only one taken?"

Mokuba waved his hand in place of his head to express a negative. "Jessica. Don't know where she is."

"How long ago, show me with your fingers, were you all captured?" D asked and nodded when the man lifted the necessary fingers. "So, give or take the tail end of winter. Were you separated soon after?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not…your fault."

'I'm not strong enough to stop my father, nor clever enough to argue him out of this foolishness,' he thought, 'so technically it is.'

Yet, he did not say that. Instead, he asked, "Can you move? How are your legs?"

"This one," he said, tapping his non-modified leg, "feels fine. This one," he added, still tapping it on the thigh, "itches. But it could be worse. It might hurt when I stand on it. Dunno."

"They haven't tested it out yet?"

"No."

"Try," D said, offering his hands out to steady him.

Mokuba did make the attempt, and D was pleasantly surprised to see that he could stand upon both without immediate pain, but that joy was short lived when Mokuba swayed and groaned seconds after, lifting his new leg and placing most of the weight on his other one. D moved to help him back to the bed, but this time Mokuba did shake his head, even if it made him turn green from the effort.

"We have to leave. Got to get Jessica, and go…before they find you…"

"Us," D corrected. "Before they find us. We are all wanted now."

"Yes, that," Mokuba said with a half-smile.

Walking to the door took the man a lot of effort, and it did not take long for D to recognize he would have to constantly stabilize him until they found some other means of transport. A wheelchair would have been preferable; he did not want the man exerting himself any harder than he already was. They were at the door by the time he realized that the safer idea would be to locate Jessica and a mode of transportation first, when he heard some strange banging start up from a floor or three below. He ceased his movement, letting Mokuba rest the bulk of his weight against him, and ignored the heaving that came from the man's gritted teeth along with the rapid beating of his heart, letting that and the sounds from the other rooms filter out save for that one point of interest. It was large, whatever was below, and from the bizarre squealing sound of something sharp dragging along (or through) metal, it left the boy pressing his tongue against his bottom lip, snapping it back into his mouth with a sigh in exasperated resignation.

"Mokuba-kun, I know that you want to go. But I feel it best if you stay here until I find our other friend."

"Can't let you go alone," he argued. "It isn't safe. What if someone else has been…like me?"

D shook his head and lowered the young man to the floor. "It isn't safe, you're right. But it will be less safe if I'm carrying you. Wait by this door; I'm going to look for Jessica, and a way to move you. As soon as I find one or the other, I'm coming back, and we are leaving. Here," he pointed to the usually automated door, "use your weight to hold this door closed, and open it for no one until you hear this knock." The boy tapped out a pattern softly against Mokuba's palm.

"I…want to argue. But I can't fight you," Mokuba said with a pained laugh. D returned it with the hint of a smile.

"No. So stay. Wait. I'll be back soon."

As he moved to leave, Mokuba grabbed his wrist. "Don't die on me, D-kun," he requested, his eyes pleading, wide and gleaming in the darkness, his grip surprising in its strength. D could feel how the individual bones pressed into him, and how the longer nails bit into his flesh much like how his own could.

"I won't," D vowed. He tilted his head and pulled the rim of his hat down just a touch. "I've still got to get you to your big brother and get back to Bakura-sama."

"Nii-sama," he whispered, releasing the boy.

Mokuba contemplated his palms then, and D left him considering his position behind what now felt like a pitiful defense—no more like wet tissue paper hung to dry in a doorway. The urgency of the sound below spoke of something trying to rip itself from whatever held it…and it sounded LARGE. He supposed that whatever was being processed here would be coming in many forms, and although his internal clock assessed the sun would have yet to set, the current predicament he found himself in kickstarted enough immediate resolve to forego his previously careful approach.

This time he barreled into another room, his katana drawn and in a defensive position. The person looked humanoid in appearance, and stopped their whimpering long enough to let out a frightened squeak at how the boy forewent any courtesies or introductions, and simply cut away their bindings. They stared at him in shock, each action tentative as they moved to rub their freed arms. D glanced out of the arch, hearing the sound below amplify with each second, and turned back with directions and a command he would repeat nine times on that floor alone.

"Leave. Don't waste any time. You won't find daylight around much longer."

He could sense that floor clearing while he made his way to the level below. He did not think much about the varying stages of transformation each one had shown. There was no time. He could not make these judgements yet, nor did he want to. Inwardly, he judged anyone at Mokuba's level still had some chance of living, even if it were just in a commune together. The thought of a complete appetite shift did not cross his mind until much later. By then, there were other more pressing matters to attend to.

Thundering footfalls of something pacing just below his feet sent reverberations up his legs, and if he had not already been on high alert, he may have tripped out of sheer alarm for the ear-piercing roar that rattled the vents on either end of the hallway. D hurried his pace, ignoring once more the pleading of the thing in his hand that now demanded they just leave. The risks were too high, even for him. Yet, he had to help whoever else he could on his way to finding Jessica, and even if this floor was quieter than the ones below, or the previous one above, he would still check each room.

Glass vials and refrigeration greeted him in the initial room he searched. There was not a person to be found. What did pepper the walls were, at first, cryptic medical pictures: notes beside varying forms of greater and lesser sizes of organisms that if he squinted looked almost human…or almost tadpole in nature, other dark grainy images that sent chills through him as realization began to dawn, and finally, one that looked much like the second batch of photographs, but with defining enough features that D backed away so quickly he hit the table with the various vials, knocking them to the ground to begin their slow, impotent drying. That…that was a picture of a baby!

"An ultrasound of a baby is what you are looking for," his hand offered oh-so-helpfully. "Now that we've seen this, can we just nix the rescue plan? You know the chances of finding her—"

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" D fired back, each powered with more vitriol than the last. He knew of many of his father's plans, and he knew enough to know the man had considered a few successes until the boy's own birth, by which whatever had happened during much of that muddied time had deemed him more of a success, and enough of a success as he grew, to consider the rest (some that had even come to adulthood before his conception) failures. This laboratory must have also taken part in similar experiments, but perhaps with others? Suddenly the boy felt dizzy as half-remembered flickers of laboratory walls filled with similar images, but more developed, or completely empty, or crossed out flooded his mind ("You?" his father's disembodied voice muttered a response to a childish inquiry regarding any similarity to the photos, "No, you were different. That's why you were a success."). He had always wanted more like D—more successes. That did not happen unless such research continued. And a singular bloodline left a species unhealthy…

No. The illness that roiled within became worse. Pulled the boy to his knees and he found himself vomiting what little he had in his stomach onto the floor to mix with whatever had been in the tubes. What were the chances? He shook with his sick anxiety, wiping his hands on his pants with obsessive insistence that something remained. Mai? Perhaps not, that pair had been found recently, elsewhere, and he did not know what that fortress had been known for. Yet, what about where Mokuba had been housed previously with his brother? What did that mean for Anzu? Yugi's mother? Furthermore, Jessica—

"Jessica!" he shouted, rubbing at his mouth now. He was back on his feet faster than ever, pulling open doors and finding many chambers vacant. The first door that had an occupant floored him even harder. It was one thing to know about one's father's dealings as a child. It was another to put morals to it, and be confronted with the costs of those choices, as one got older.

This woman was not Jessica. She had dark black hair, comparable to the boy's own, her fluttering eyes colorless in the absence of light. Unlike Mokuba, who had ineffectively pulled at his bindings (or Bakura who had always thrashed until they sedated him thoroughly), she delicately tugged at where her arm and wrist were bound, as if confused. This was the first time that D questioned if the stories regarding the love his father had said he and his mother had once shared were true—perhaps his mother had instead been as confused and lost as the woman before him. This woman whose stomach denoted she was the one that would hold the scientists' most ardent attentions.

"Who is there?" she called into the darkness, and D realized there was not a single light around to aid her. The faded hallway dotting that had led him there would at most have created a shadow where he stood, but in this lower level, the generator seemed to be preoccupied with powering other things. He could now see her shaking, and the way she clenched her jaw to still her voice as she added, "I heard the door open. What is going on? What is that sound?"

"I…ma'am…" he faltered, unsure of how to begin.

"Is that a child?" she asked, more to herself than to anyone else. She cocked her head with a reserved slow motion.

"Yes. I am a child, and I am trying to find my friend. I'm trying to get them out of here, and I will try to help you out of here, too."

"Did something happen? Where are all of those—" she paused and shuddered. D furrowed his brows, the rest of his face pinching in empathy for the woman while she clearly fought with trying to describe her captors.

"Nothing is working right now. But that's good!" he tried to soothe, "There's still daylight outside. You'll be able to escape because of it. Where are you from?"

The question seemed to touch something within her, and her eyes filled with tears. He glanced awkwardly down at the ground as she began to sob. After a few seconds of it, unable to bear it any longer, he opened his mouth to change the subject. She, however, had other ideas.

"Sorry. It doesn't matter. The place where I am from is gone," she explained. The woman sniffled, and D blew air in a soundless whistle as she controlled herself. "But what are you doing here?"

"Like I said," he replied, clearing his throat, "I'm helping some friends escape."

"But you sound so young."

"…" he did not know how to respond to that, so instead he asked, "May I undo your arms and legs?"

"I—yes. Please."

It took a little longer as he tried not to startle her, but she did get to her feet faster than Mokuba, even with how far along she was. He asked her to stay put within the room for now, and not to mind the sound of whatever was going on below, but that he swore, after he checked the rooms on this floor, that he would come back and guide her to safety.

"I promise," he pledged. "So please stay here."

"You can see in the dark, can't you?" the woman asked, waking up to the concept that her savior may not be of the "normal" variety.

"Yes. But I'm on your side."

"Are…are you like what this baby…my child will become?"

He paused in deep thought before answering honestly. "I don't know."

"I see."

He left her there to search for any others.

Two more rooms were empty, and one held the corpse of a woman who looked like she had taken fate into her own hands the moment she woke up. He closed the door with bitter resignation on that one. How could he blame her, when he just had to take a look inward and see a similar wish for just being what he was. The room after that had another woman, a redhead this time, who did not look to be in a way, but quietly accepted his help with little pushback and less questions. He guided her to the woman down the hall and hoped that the two of them would not concoct any ideas of early escape, if only for their sakes.

There were a few other sealed areas left, and D felt the beginnings of wakefulness, the promise that the night would soon be upon them taking root, so he hurried his search with renewed vigor. Evening had finally arrived.

Dead. Dead. Two doors left.

D faced the next door, debating what state he would have preferred to find Jessica in, and toyed with the idea that, perhaps, with luck, she had never been on that floor in the first place. Pushing these speculations aside, he placed his right hand on the decorated metal and pulled once again. Imagining his desired situation would do him no good here. He had to face reality.

And there she was. Lying there, like she was asleep and that nothing in the world, not the bellowing from below, nor the snapping of his fingers to check her wakefulness, would bother her in her repose. Still, he did not smell the familiar scent of blood or recent death. Which meant—

"Jessica!" he hissed through a whisper, although he could not fathom why he whispered, "Or Cindy? It's me, D!"

"Thank fuck," came her quiet reply. Her eyes shot open, and she tilted her head up (for these women had not been held at the neck as the others above them had been) to squint at him. "Where are you? Get me out of this stupid bed."

"Cindy," D said, somewhat relieved (she seemed okay…maybe she was?) and rushed to her side, sliding her out of her leather bindings with less concern for their clattering against the metal frame.

"We're both listening," Jessica said, stretching each freed limb with relish as the boy released them. "Strange thing; I can't remember a time in my life where I really felt one with any of my decisions, or one hundred percent comfortable with who was in charge at any given moment. Some things were too tough to handle. There had to be that hard grip to pull through. Some things required a softer hand—and I'd worry I'd apply too much pressure. So much of my life...being unable to express our choices to one another, to get on the same page, no matter who we talked to. And in the end, all I ever wanted to do was help people, you know?"

"Yes, I remember," D said, nodding. Then he stopped once he realized she could not see him. "If it's anything, I have seen that. You tried to help us in your way when we first met."

"Yes. I was used to babysitting…and on the other hand I liked being a nurse when I could, but…there's one thing I never told anyone when the world went to—" She motioned to the enclosure around her, but he knew she was expressing on a wider scale. "That thing was how I got to that point. I got there…Army-wise. There was a time that I didn't even remember that. Anyway, it got me out of the house. Cindy found structure; Jessica found peace…for a time."

"Mhm…" he intoned, glancing around the room as he still monitored the sounds below. They were running out of time, but if his assumptions were correct, she deserved every second of reflection amongst friendly company.

"What I saw in my time with the Army was awful. Terrible things have happened around me. In either side of the job that I took part in. Think my therapist—when I finally went to one—had said at one point I had 'exacerbated the problem'." She snorted at that. He watched her reach her hands out and went to her side, but it was hardly necessary. She found her footing easily enough. She also looked untouched, but that meant little in this environment.

"What's crazy, I guess, is when I think back at all that has happened to me, I'm reminded of how a part of me wanted a simple life. A house, children of my own," she said, and he could not tell which one was speaking. "This—'place' is…a bit much."

"Did they—"

"Did they what?" She turned and looked at him without seeing. "Don't worry your head about what did or didn't happen to me. Right now, I have to get you out of here. You didn't have to come all of this way for little old me."

"This all was a bit of a surprise," he confessed. "I mean, I would have anyway, if I had known, but both you and Mokuba are here. I want to get you and everyone else here out. There are two other women down the hall, as well. I'll need your help with guiding them. One of them is very pregnant."

Her face had remained good-natured throughout his explanation, but he saw her expression chill the moment he mentioned the other women. Her eyes flicked around blindly, seeing invisible examples of who he described in the lack of light. For a second, he questioned if it was best that they all meet. What possible uttered assumptions might trigger unfortunate reactions from any of them? What were the chances they had all experienced the same things, or none of them? How would he handle their reactions to Mokuba? He shook his head. That was a non-issue. He had to risk it.

"Wait right here," he said, "I have one more room to check out, and then I'll guide you back to the others."

The woman shrugged. "Better to be safe than sorry. I'm sure you don't need me stumbling around in the dark to slow you down right now. Just be careful."

D bit his lip. "I will."

"And if you see a flashlight—"

"You'll be the first to know."

She smiled at him before leaning against the bed she had just vacated, her hospital gown crinkling. A reminder that he also needed to find them proper clothing if they were to run at their best. Turning his attention to the last room, he offered her an unseen wave.

When he reached the door in question, he finally let his focus broaden to assess for more than just the boisterous thing below. A faint bubbling poured forth from within, but he also heard a nearly imperceptible rhythm to pair with the beating of the confines below coming from just behind him, in the room he just left. His own cautious positivity that he had clung to until this moment after finding the woman once more dropped. Pressing his right hand to his chest, he kept time as he opened and observed the empty room, save for the tube that took up the middle. Something small and fragile looking floated in that greenish, darkened liquid, connected to wires that no longer infused it with what made it live. A singular monitor flickered on and off, as the computer it was linked to rebooted and failed time and time again. It appeared that D's actions had taken a life, and the mixed guilt and righteous fury that ran through his being felt insurmountable.

He wanted to apologize. To say that he knew the gesture would not mean much if anything at all. There was an urge to explain, even, why this might have been for the best. He wanted to know who he should tell, who had begun what still was not fully formed, but with the constant metal bending strikes from below and those that lived who needed him now, pragmatism called that it was a useless waste of time. With that, the boy took one last look at what could have been, and he exited yet another impromptu tomb. He walked back into the room with the faint beating, took Cindy's hand, unwilling to entertain the questions that wanted to pour from him, and moved on.

They had just gotten to the room with the others, where they had all shared very quick and awkward introductions, when a heavy clanging rang from below. A shrieking sound followed that was such a pitch as to make the ground beneath their feet vibrate and the more delicate materials that hung about the room tinkle while they clattered against one another. While Cindy stood alongside him, the other two knelt down close to the ground in fear, holding onto each other's arms for comfort. A move that made complete sense given what they had been through.

The ground continued to shudder under D's feet, and combined with the thumping sounds, it seemed like they were trapped within some oversized metallic drum; however, he gathered that he was the only one who felt the reverberation of the thing's footsteps based on how minute they were in comparison to the noise they produced and how the others only seemed to flinch at what they heard. Through all this, his internal clock continued ticking away, leaving him very aware of the dwindling window of time they had left. He hoped that whatever was making its way up the stairs was friendly, so that they could get out of there with little fanfare.

Wanting to be sure, he snuck over to the doorway with a clenched left fist to save himself from any unwanted outbursts, and edged the door open a touch—just enough to have one eye observe the hallway—leaning his vision into the gap at a slant. The entrance to said hallway attached to the stairwell appeared before him as clear as it had been when he had climbed it. He shushed the others when (he thought) the redhead had begun to whimper and then waited with bated breath for a change. It did not take long to see what was coming up those stairs. Once going, it kept a respectable pace, and from his cursory glance—

—no, it was not particularly friendly.

This must have been someone's pet project, some sick design to cause havoc amongst the human species that still remained. He could wrap his head around no other reason to invite such a creature to exist. Even in this darkness it maneuvered with obscene grace for something its size.

Whatever it was took up the bulk of the stairwell but could bend enough that it could enter the very area they were in without much fuss. It had feathers, this monstrosity, and large claws upon its hands and feet. D would have argued it was some type of dinosaur come back to life, but it also had features of other creatures—the skin beneath the feathers was covered in spotted fur, its upper skull was as boxy as the head of a horse, but its eyes were forward facing like a bird of prey. They flicked around the area from their protruding sockets, hungry, expectant. Its snout was as long as borzoi, while its mouth hung wide like a crocodile trying to cool down on a hot day. Along its extensive jaws, its teeth began as sharp as its possible snapping predecessor and ended as blunt as human back molars. Its tail, while thick and stocky enough to balance the weight of it, could sway much like a cat that was far too agitated.

All in all, a horrible sight, and one that had not quite yet seen him. He could not see the beast's ears, but he did watch its eyes search the empty hallway, a faint glimmer much like what he had seen in Mokuba's emanating from them. Its claws clicked against the latticed metal flooring, its massive form hunched in the hallway, its tail whipping back and forth, smacking into the nearby walls and doors. There was a boom as its tail smacked into the wall just beside them when it passed by, jolting the items upon the counters and shelving around the quartet once more. D watched concern draw upon each woman's face, and it was at that moment that he realized, no matter what occurred afterwards, their survival had been squarely placed on his shoulders.

He wished he could usher them closer with words, or that they could see him if he waved. Anything. By the apprehension that surrounded them all, it would only take one surprising move for someone to give a shout of surprise. Even if he managed to stifle such a cry, who knew how well this thing could hear, or what behaviors would attract its attentions best?

Still, sitting there until they were found was about as helpful. He sidestepped away from his vantagepoint since its eyes no longer hovered over his position and sidled up to Cindy, the only one who he felt would handle the shock well. He tapped her twice on the arm and felt her tense, but not scream. He then tugged on her gown as a request for her to lean down so that he may convey his plan. She acquiesced but overcompensated so that he even had to hunch slightly to speak into her ear.

"Something is there," he whispered as pronounced as possible, "Big. Looks dangerous."

"Can it see us?" she asked with the forcefulness of a simple breath.

"There's a high chance it can see in the dark. Hasn't smelled us yet. Help me keep the others quiet and follow my instructions."

He paused then, listening to the snuffling that occurred outside their door. It was slightly further down the hall and had not seemed to cease with that voiced instruction. Not wasting time, he further elaborated on what he would need from her and moved her to a point beside the redhead. He leaned down to speak to the huddled form of the first woman he found and began,

"We need to be as quiet as possible—"

"—we don't have much time—" he could hear Cindy repeat what he had instructed as he uttered the same line.

"—hold my hand and the hand of the person next to you—"

"—stand when you feel me pull you up—"

"—walk slowly, and carefully—"

"—but run when you hear the signal—"

"—be careful on the stairs—"

"—and the most important thing—"

"—don't stop for anything."

D reflected on the veritable blindness of the others during their recitation of their only means of escaping, and that he would be the only one able to protect them and navigate their path forward. As such, when he pulled the woman up, he grabbed for some free-held medical instrument that rested on the counter above her head. The beginnings of a plan were hatching.

Walking to the door was daunting, even with its proximity. D could hear that with every step, the creature's focus was being drawn away from whatever it had been sniffing before. If it turned its head at the same time the boy peered out to check, any hope of coming out unscathed would be negligible at best if his instincts were correct. So, he stilled their progress by allowing the woman at his back to bump into him and held in a grateful sigh that she had not made a noise doing so.

Once the snuffling resumed—it sounded like it was in the room of the dead woman—D pushed the door open just wide enough for them to escape from. He used every ounce of calm to perform this natural silent ability of his, and then some, to lean out with the necessary bravery to check what the beast was looking at. Its lower end was still poking out of the room he had suspected it of entering, and an unpleasant and muffled crunch of a testing bite made way into his ears.

While he had nothing to offer as way of stomach contents, he still had to swallow back a foamy threatening of panic. Knowing everyone needed him to be at his best, he pulled himself together by gnawing on his lower lip to just shy of breaking skin. The thing was busy for now; he wasted no time ushering the others to the stairwell, constantly checking over his shoulder at its position. Once he touched the railing with what fingers did not grip the device, he looked back past the women once more. The creature he monitored was shuffling backwards out of the room, and the scent of blood was heavy in the air. Time to shift tactics. He pulled the heavily pregnant woman forward, placed her hand upon the metal bar, and whispered, "Feel for each stair and then go up." He then moved the others past him with a gentle push, too aware that what he was doing could backfire.

Yet, there was no other choice. He had to. The creature was clamping its jaws with little tosses of its head, and if he did not distract it, moving prey may become more enticing than the colder variety it had scavenged from. He raised his hand high in the air, cocked back his arm, and as he noted the flickering faint color of those cold eyes begin to twist the way of his slow-moving party, he lobbed the device straight at the large glass tube inhabiting the end room.

The instrument plunked against the clear surface, and before the splintering of glass and gushing of liquid could commence in full, the beast was upon it. D beheld its progress as it leapt into the air at what remained standing, and he hoped it would settle for the noise it was creating during its thrashing and crashing rather than the nervous tapping of feet upon the metal stairway. He backed upon each step, supervising the thing's progress as he made his ascent. So far, so goo—

A thudding came from above as someone hit the stairs hard, causing the steps and bar to shudder. A cry of surprise rang out, with additional tripping clangs as another stumbled upon the first to fall. D froze on the landing just before the turn to disappear out of sight. He was staring straight at the creature; the creature likewise had locked eyes with him. Expletives filled his mind with each second that he failed to bolt, to bypass them all and get to safety, some choice words his own, most originating from the thing residing in his left hand. Yet, his feet remained planted. The hilt of his sword was in his right hand. His heart knew this was what truly called to him, and likewise knew his luck was being tested beyond the strain of prior experiences.

The first cry of apologies came as the monster before him sprinted his way. He found it fascinating in that moment, how his body seemed to vibrate with his fear, but how each muscle felt like stone. He was the wall that it would have to break through to get to those he had to protect. There was something about that call that he wanted to answer. Something within him was just so hungry. Yet, he was still just a child. A terrified child.

"Just run!" he ordered to those a level above him.

"This is insane!" his hand blurted as the clanging grew to a cacophony about them. The thunder of the footfalls from above was proof of the others heeding his command just as the creature was nearly upon his position. That vicious and hungry expression bore into him, almost willing him to remain frozen in fear. In response, he clamped his clamoring appendage upon the hilt just as he had been taught. A second or two, and its breath would assault his cheeks with its hot stench.

"Fuck it," the boy uttered with abandon, no less afraid, but riding the strange wave that swathed him as he held his stance. "Let's see how much of a success I really am."