“We need something nice to cheer us all up,” Jounouchi said out of the blue.
Yuugi looked up from the list he had been studying, barely able to stifle a yawn. Recently, they had managed to intercept a truck loaded with provisions for KaibaCorp., and they had plundered it - without killing the driver. He was just a poor man, being forced to make his deliveries, his family taken hostage by Gozaburo’s Elite Troops. The tyrant could afford new groceries, the Resistance couldn’t, and the new provisions were a great relief to their almost depleted stock. To Yuugi’s surprise they had hit a transport with lots of long-time preservable goods: honey, tea, rice, lentils, flour and sugar. Shizuka had been ecstatic and had baked a pie in the middle of the night. In silent celebration of this small victory, adults and children had eaten pie, with many still feeling the effects of the adrenaline from attacking and robbing the transport.
However, it had been some time since Otogi’s last transmission and their hearts weighed heavy with fear for his fate. Jounouchi had talked to Yuugi in private about it, as mentioning Otogi’s name around Shizuka caused her to become hysterical. She was convinced he had already died and it was hard for her to deal with the situation. Most of the people in the basement tried to cheer her up or distract her, but that worked only for so long. Jounouchi himself refused to mourn; until he had seen Otogi’s dead body with his own eyes, he wasn’t going to believe that his friend was gone.
“We sure could,” Yuugi said, “I had hoped that Honda-kun and Anzu-chan would be back by now, but I was a little too optimistic.”
“Yeah,” Jounouchi answered, “it’s not like they can hop onto a plane and be here in just a few hours. We should do something to distract ourselves, and not talk about Generals, transports, Items, Gozaburo or whatever else.”
“What do you suggest?” Yuugi asked. Jounouchi’s enthusiasm was contagious, and he knew that everyone could use some cheer. Isis’ dark and unsettling visions, Otogi’s uncertain fate and the general bleakness of life and the foreseeable future took its toll on everyone. He stood up, straightened himself and tried to work out a crick in his neck, looking at his friend.
“Do we have eggs?”
“Eggs?” Yuugi frowned. Jounouchi was never the one to suggest toying around with food, as he knew very well that they couldn’t afford spilling or wasting it.
“Yes, eggs! We still have flour and sugar, right? We can make pancakes! The kids will love it!”
“Jounouchi-kun, that’s awesome!” Yuugi’s face lit up. “I think we still have some, I’ll go check it immediately!”
On his way to the stock room, he ran into Shizuka and told her of the plan. She immediately offered to help with the pancakes, hurrying towards the kitchen. Yuugi checked the stock and found a dozen of eggs. Content, he raced back to the kitchen as well where Shizuka had already started preparations, a handfull of small children gathering around her, chattering excitedly. Jounouchi helped his sister out, but was smacked with the ladle whenever he tried to ‘steal’ a pancake; Shizuka’s hearing was too fine-tuned for him to out-smart. She always knew when he tried to pull a trick like that, and he was just teasing her anyway - the one who was sharing the most, was Jounouchi himself.
“This was a great idea,” Yuugi said, looking at the children’s happy faces when nibbling on a pancake. Shizuka wore the brightest smile of them all; she loved making people happy, especially the kids.
“Onii-chan always has good ideas,” she beamed, checking if there was some batter left. Jounouchi ruffled her hair, which earned him another, albeit halfhearted, smack with the ladle. Mock-hurt, he told her that there was only enough left for four, maybe five, pancakes. She nodded and picked up the bowl, stirring the batter some more.
“All right, these last ones are for Isis-san, then,” she said and before Jounouchi could protest, she had already poured some of the batter in the pan.
Yuugi looked up from his plate when he heard noises coming from the hallway. His eyes immediately flew to the compact video screen in the corner, next to the transmitter. It showed the constant feed of the cameras at the door and the hidden entrance in the shower cabin. Any unauthorized visitor would alert the alarm system, but it wasn’t infaillible. The Resistance was quite large, albeit not with active members; Yuugi conveniently counted everyone who opposed Gozaburo’s reign as ‘resistance’, but he and Jounouchi were the real force behind it, and the most active members. His eyes widened when he heard a very familiar voice.
“Hey! What’s with all the pancakes?”
“Honda-kun!” Yuugi yelled at the same moment his friend entered the kitchen, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. “You made it back!”
“Hey Yuugi,” Honda said. He dropped the duffle bag to the floor and opened his arms for a friendly hug. “Having a blast without me, so it seems?” He tugged at one of Yuugi’s golden bangs and shoved him to the side, to where Anzu was waiting. She stood next to the doorpost, also carrying a duffle bag.
“Anzu-chan,” Yuugi said and blushed like a thirteen-year old. Anzu couldn’t help but laugh a little, showing a warm smile.
“Yuugi, come here.”
It wasn’t an awkward hug, but Yuugi’s grip on Anzu was tighter than the other way around. She ruffled his hair fondly. Jounouchi shook his head, even though nobody noticed. Sometimes he wondered why Yuugi was doing this to himself, but apparently his friend couldn’t let Anzu go… not even when she was with Honda. Yuugi would never do a thing to break them apart, but in Jounouchi’s humble opinion, it was just painful to still be in love with the girl who had chosen for his best friend. Yuugi continued to embrace Anzu, tenderly, almost a lover’s touch, while she simply hugged him by wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close.
“Anzu-chan, how have you been?” he asked.
“Everything has been well,” she answered, her voice as melodious as always. She hugged him close for another second before letting go. “We brought guests with us, Yuugi. I’m sure you like meeting them.”
Guests? Confused, he looked from Anzu to Honda and back again. With a smile still on her face, Anzu stepped back and turned around to holler: “It’s all right! Don’t be afraid, you can come in now!”
“Any pancakes left for us?” Honda grinned, rubbing over his forehead. He and Jounouchi always head-butted as a way of greeting each other. It always seemed that he ended up being hurt the most - probably because of Jounouchi’s extremely thick skull, as one had to believe the running joke. He had to deal with his arms full of Shizuka next, as the girl was ecstatic about his safe return.
Yuugi was curious to see who had traveled with Honda and Anzu.Jounouchi came to stand next to him, unable to keep his curiosity down. To both their amazement, the two youngsters whose faces they had seen on a grainy picture previously, stepped into the room.
“You’re Isis’ brother!” Yuugi blurted. The tall, tan young man in front of him scowled at him for stating the obvious, but he nodded nonetheless and started talking with a rather thick accent.
“Where is my sister?”
Yuugi told one of the kids to go get Isis and he focused his attention on Malik and his companion again. They were both dressed in non-fitting, rather disheveled clothing and looked like they could use a bath or two. Isis’ brother had some kind of dark purple cape thrown around his shoulders, probably to keep himself warm. When he turned a little to help his companion putting yet another duffle bag down, Yuugi caught a glimmer of gold, tucked into the waistband of his baggy pants. An Item. He had brought his Item with him! It was a miracle that Gozaburo or a General hadn’t tracked him down already and killed him…
“Sorry about taking so long,” Honda said, his mouth stuffed with pancakes. “We had to be very careful when traveling. It was easy to reach New Paris, but to leave with them…”
“We owe Mai a whole friggin’ lot,” Anzu sighed, and gracefully accepted a pancake. She nibbled on it. Yuugi didn’t know what shocked him more; that Mai apparently had been very helpful, or that Anzu used the word ‘friggin’, which was almost equal as swearing to her.
The young man behind Isis’ brother tried to make himself invisible. He looked very tired, his long white hair matted and brittle. He was wearing a rather conspicuous, buttoned-up black trench coat over what looked like a pair of jeans thrice his size. His hands weren’t visible as he stuck them under his arms, shivering from cold. He was the one with the Ring, but Yuugi couldn’t see if he was wearing it.
“Malik! Praise the Gods! Brother!”
Isis was nothing but a flurry in a dress, she moved so fast that she ran past everyone to reach her brother and take him into an embrace, touching him all over. “Are you injured? Have you eaten? Are you tired?”
“Sister,” Malik tried to get some air, “I’m all right!” His scowl disappeared and was replaced by a brilliant smile, that was meant for Isis only. The woman started talking rapidly to him in their native language, and Yuugi was immediately lost - he didn’t speak any Middle-Eastern language.
His attention was drawn to the white-haired youngster, who seemed to feel uncomfortable now that his shield, Malik, had been removed. His eyes darted through the room as if he wanted to be anywhere else but here.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Yuugi said, “my name is Mutou Yuugi.”
“Bakura Ryou,” he answered, voice soft.
“Would you like something to eat?”
A nod was his only answer, and Yuugi left it at that. He wasn’t going to impose on someone clearly not feeling comfortable. Maybe, after Isis and Malik were done talking and would include him in their reunion, he would get out of his shell. Yuugi went to retrieve a pancake, put it on a plate and handed it to him. As he moved to accept it, Yuugi noticed a faint outline of… something with a round shape under his coat. That had to be the Ring, or so he presumed. Funny how he had looked at his fingers to see if he was wearing a ring.
Anzu was talking to Shizuka in the corner, the girl dead tired from making so many pancakes. Jounouchi’s voice was loud, as he reminisced and bragged with Honda about everything he could think of. Malik and Isis stood in the other corner, the woman still checking him over if he was really all right, if he was really here, really standing right in front of her. For the first time, happiness and ecstacy radiated from her, a similar bright smile on her face, and at that very moment, everything was forgotten about Gozaburo, the Items, the war, the difficulties, if only for a little while.Yuugi hoped they could hold on to this moment as long as possible. He searched for a chair, found one and sat down silently, and smiled as he reveled into the hopeful cheer and joy, warming the atmosphere.
Otogi had a pretty good idea why so many people avoided the lower floors of the KaibaCorp. building. For starters, there wasn’t any electricity down here, a large contrast to the upper floors who literally bathed in light. Second, there was a certain…foulness clinging to the hallway that he couldn’t describe. It might have something to do with the lack of electricity, but the darkness made Otogi feel vulnerable and scared. The flashlight he had brought was small, and couldn’t penetrate the darkness very far; it was unsettling.
He had rode the elevator down as far as it could go, and he took the stairs to the lowest levels. His backpack was heavy with a few bottles of water and packages of food. If he really was going to find the elusive Kaiba Seto down here, Otogi had little doubt that his circumstances weren’t as fancy as, just an example, the Pharaoh’s. Otogi was in dire need of help of this particular Kaiba. He was going to give him leverage to get out of here alive, and this Kaiba was a good asset for the Resistance. One of these days, Otogi’s cover was going to crack, he had no idea how much longer he could hold on. Gozaburo kept him working around the clock, and Noa had become more and more demanding the last few days. He hadn’t mentioned the Mokuba-incident, but Otogi was to meet up with Noa anywhere but his own, private quarters.
His flashlight revealed a row of switches to his left. He touched them, but didn’t flip any of the switches. So there was electricity on the lower levels after all. He assumed that these switches were for the lights and he moved his flashlight up, along the ceiling. Yeah, he could see the bulbs; it looked like someone simply cut the power to the lower levels, and it would probably set off some kind of alarm if he messed around with them. Better safe than sorry, so Otogi left the switches and moved on, advancing slowly.
He swallowed every now and then. Without electricity connected to these levels, the air conditioning and air filter systems weren’t working either. He was sweating like a pig, feeling uncomfortable in the dark, and he didn’t even know what he was going to find down here. Was it wise to put his hope and faith into this unknown Kaiba family member? Could they really help each other? Maybe he would know about the mystical Sennen Items and their locations, or a way to thwart Gozaburo… after all, he had to be held down here for a reason. Gozaburo usually didn’t keep prisoners.
“He-hello?” Otogi called out, voice rough. He had no idea on what level he was, having descended down the stairs, and the strange, hollow echo gave him the creeps. He progressed step by step, keeping his hand on the cold wall, his other hand waving the flashlight around.
“S-someone there? Hello?”
He awoke from a restless dream and gasped for breath. How long had he been out of it? Kaiba tried to open his eyes and shook his head. His body was numb and hurting all over; he had no idea of time, and he was thirsty, not too mention hungry. There was a faint noise, in the far distance, and he heaved a sigh, only to immediately break out in violent coughs. His throat was as dry as sandpaper. He could kill for something to drink. Damn Noa. Kaiba tried to feel his lower backside, but his body barely obeyed him; it was numb from the enforced, uncomfortable position. His legs felt cramped, and his arms stung - he could barely feel them anymore - and the shackles rattled when he shifted around.
“S-someone there? Hello?”
“What the hell?” He wanted to speak, but his voice refused to cooperate and he coughed again, his throat hurting. Kaiba swallowed a few times, but he didn’t have much saliva left. Water, a kingdom for a glass of water… but he wasn’t mistaken, someone was down here, someone was really down here, calling out in these godforsaken dungeons, and it wasn’t Noa or a servant.
“Here!” Another cough, and he tried again. “HERE!” Coughing once more, an idea struck him suddenly and he rattled with the shackles, the heavy chains hitting the wall. Kaiba hoped that whoever had come down here, was smart enough to track the noise to his cell. His heart jumped up in hope, renewed vigor running through his veins, when he saw a flicker of light. It had been ages since he had seen light.
“Here,” he repeated, but his voice was still too gruff and raw to be overheard. He gave another violent tug at the shackles.
“Kaiba Seto?”
A male voice, hesitant, whispering - someone very careful, aware of the dangers. Kaiba grimaced. It wasn’t Mokuba’s voice, to his grief. It made him curious; who had willingly taken the risk to come down here? Noa or Gozaburo wouldn’t be very happy to learn there was someone snooping around in the dungeons. Kaiba knew that his ‘father’ and ‘brother’ had carefully wiped out his existence from every record, and the personnel at the Tower kept their mouths shut out of fear. Someone had been digging, had found out about him. This was his chance. It had to be!
“Who are you?” It annoyed him that his voice was merely above a whisper. The light shone directly into his cell and he squinted his eyes.
“Gods,” the other whispered in return, unable to keep the shock out of his voice. “What have they done to you?”
“Get me out of here,” Kaiba snarled back. Even with his voice shredded and his body operating on the last reserves of his strength, he still immediately took the lead. It wasn’t too late yet to turn the tables around, to find his brother, to accomplish Gozaburo’s downfall…if he was rescued now, it wasn’t too late. Not yet, not yet.
The light danced in front of his eyes and he followed it, despite his sensitivity to the light - now that he found it again, he didn’t want to lose it. Blessed light! He would see real daylight soon!
“Hurry up,” he muttered, but he doubted the other would hear it. He was going to drink a whole fountain worth when he got out of here, and then Gozaburo and Noa would pay. Heaven or hell help him, but they. would. pay.
Otogi stared at the man… boy… in the cell. Kaiba Seto had been clearly left to die here, and the shivers ran down his spine. The putrifying smell came from his cell, and Otogi was sure no one had ever cared for or looked after Kaiba’s personal hygiene. He could only wonder what went on in Noa’s mind to have done this.
His flashlight was the only source of illumination, and he moved it around to research the cell door. To his surprise, the lock was electronical; it needed a code, or perhaps it opened on voice recognition; it looked advanced.
Apparently Gozaburo had rerouted electricity to this level in order to keep the door locked. He ‘tsk-ed’ in annoyance. He wasn’t good at hacking codes. Otogi took a flask of water from his backpack.
“Can you move? Are you all right?”
He was sure Kaiba was saying something in return, but the man’s voice was hard to make out and Otogi didn’t catch more than a few vowels. For what it was worth, he threw the bottle of water into the cell and hoped that it would reach Kaiba without hitting him.
“It’s an electronic lock,” he whispered. “Maybe I can short-circuit it.” There was no answer, so he took that as some kind of approval. Or maybe the man had died in the few seconds they had just met… which made Noa and Gozaburo murderers, but what was new? They killed for power and to maintain it, and weren’t afraid to use violence. Gozaburo was oddly more interested in reaching his goals by intimidation and manipulation, whereas Noa was the orchestrating power behind the Elite Troops, advocating violence. An army of its own, a showcase of their power, but Gozaburo was the one in control. The Elite Troops were to sweep the town and any other area in search for the Items, but by order of Noa, they were also allowed to ‘have fun’ with everyone who trespassed the curfew. A cruel trait, and Gozaburo had only given in because of his son; it was a little taste of power, and it was clearly obvious that Noa wanted more.
Otogi clamped the flashlight between his teeth while he examined the lock. He had a mini toolkit in his backpack and he took it out, readying the small screwdriver to take off the protective cap of the lock. Short-circuiting was his only option, as he didn’t have the materials with him to hack into it. Frustrated, he pulled out one screw, and moved towards the other…and choked when someone grabbed him forcefully at the scruff of his neck. Otogi was pulled backwards with such strength that he fell on the floor and slid over it until he smacked right into the wall, knocking the wind out of his lungs.
The flashlight clattered onto the concrete floor, the light dancing until it was crushed; Otogi winced when he heard the shattering of the glass and the crunching of the metal. He tried to adjust his eyes to the sudden darkness, breathing heavily as pain settled into his body.
He thought there was a scream of pain, of disappointment, coming from the cell, but the next second he moved up his arm to shield his eyes from the extremely bright light, almost blinding him. Otogi wanted to crawl away, but there was no place to crawl to, there was nowhere he could hide down here. Panting, he pressed himself against the cold wall.
“Looks like there’s another rat down here.”
That was Marik’s voice, and Otogi gasped. What in the hell was he doing down here? And wherever Marik was - Otogi groaned when his eyes were adjusted enough to see the familiar bone-white hair - Bakura was never far behind. They both wore their smug, insane little smirks, and he knew he was screwed.
His mind raced, going over his options, his possibilities, what he could use for an excuse… with a bit of luck, he could lie his way out of here. Marik and Bakura might not be able to separate the truth from the lie…
“And such a pretty rat too,” Marik continued, closing the distance between them and grabbing Otogi, hand rumpling his shirt, nails tearing the fabric. “How disappointing of you, you pretty sneaky little backstabber! We don’t like backstabbers here, do we, pretty thief?”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Bakura muttered, and studied his nails while he leaned against Kaiba’s cell door. No sound came from Kaiba, but Otogi didn’t really count on any help coming from him.
“Let go of me,” Otogi hissed, panic starting to well up in him. Marik lifted him up from the ground without much trouble. The man was so strong, and his grip on Otogi was bonecrushing tight. Gods, he would never be able to get out of this alive if he didn’t play it right. If he could convince these two to let him go, somehow, some way… “please,” he added quickly.
Marik simply smiled, a deranged grin baring a fanged tooth. “No can do, pretty little backstabber. I have my orders, and pretty rats aren’t among the ones who can give me orders. You’re out of luck.”
As a last ditch effort, Otogi tried to lunge for the other, but Marik evaded the blow to his head with ease, lifting Otogi up even higher and keeping him at a distance. Marik lifted up his other hand, clawing, reaching for Otogi’s face.
“That is enough, Marik.”
He never knew he could be so happy to hear Noa’s voice - it was pure heaven, even though it meant the situation had taken a turn for the worse. Otogi panted in Marik’s grasp, his eyes fixed on the clawed hand, afraid the other was going to rip out his throat.
Marik growled lowly. “You’re not among the ones who can give me orders either.”
Otogi closed his eyes as the hand moved closer to his face. He was going to lose his eyes, his life, oh Gods..
“Enough,” Bakura said. “He needs to be alive, for now. Let him go, Marik.”
He was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, and Otogi groaned. His whole body hurt, and he saw his chances to survive slipping through his fingers.
Noa was down here as well. They had probably been keeping an eye on him for a long time, waiting for their little trap to close. What more could go wrong?
Noa walked towards him, his eyes narrowed in disdain, but his lips were curled in an unmistakable triumphant grin. Marik and Bakura stepped aside, but as soon as Noa passed, their murderous looks at his back were terrifying. It wasn’t something that would help Otogi now; those two were known for their hatred for almost everything. It was startling however, that he had never really seen them throw these kind of looks to anyone ever before.
Carefully stepping as to make sure no cloud of dust would taint his impeccable white suit, Noa leaned into Otogi to stare him into his eyes, still grinning.
“Who knows, maybe my father will be grateful that I caught a spy,” he said. “Don’t be afraid, Otogi. I’m sure we can… think of some mutual benefits for the time being.”
“Mutual benefits?” He repeated. Maybe, just maybe, his quick tongue and wit could get him out of here. If Noa had been a woman, he could’ve turned on his charm and woo his way out of here. As it was, he didn’t know if Noa was interested in any seduction at all, and he wasn’t about to try it now. “Wh-what kind of mutual benefits?”
“You’re going to make one more transmission, Otogi,” Noa said. “A transmission to your beloved Resistance. You will tell them what we tell you, and in return, you’ll live. For now.”
“Res-resistance?” Otogi knew that the visible horror in his eyes had already given him away. Noa smiled at him, an amused grin as if he had heard the biggest joke ever. He tapped Otogi cheerfully on the cheek as he straigtened himself again.
“Bring him to my quarters,” he said. Marik opened his mouth to protest, but Bakura elbowed him in the stomach.
“Get up,” he said to Otogi, his eyes brimming with danger. He had no choice but to obey, and he slowly moved to get up. His legs felt like rubber. Noa was setting up a trap for the Resistance, and was going to use him as bait. This was going to be desastrous!
He knew that many of his servants working for him asked themselves why he always visited the Pharaoh, and not simply called him to his own quarters, like any of the other Generals. Gozaburo couldn’t care less what others thought; he didn’t mind the exercise of strolling down the large hallway to the elevators, riding one to the top of the building, and stroll down the hallway again until he reached the right door.
Yes, the Pharaoh was one of his best creations, he thought to himself. A little bit of himself, a little bit of Fate, and a little bit of technology made up for a great design, and powerful to boot. The virtual reality world his son had created was magnificent and powerful, and it was going to be the template for the world Gozaburo wanted to create. A world where his word was law, where he was God. More than a God - an immortal God! No sickness or debilitation would hurt him in a virtual reality, and he would rule over his world until the end of times and beyong. A world created after his own image, where no one would oppose him. To be the absolute highest one in power, with the strength and force to rival the Gods..! He didn’t have his utopia yet, but Seto’s work was fascinating, and Gozaburo knew it was only a matter of time before he figured out the access codes to Seto’s systems. As it was, he had to…adapt himself to the one with the most power at this moment. For now. For all that he was his best creation, the Pharaoh was also extremely powerful. That divine power was the only thing that kept Gozaburo from treating the Pharaoh as any other of his Generals. Soon, as he had learned all the secrets behind that divine power, Gozaburo would possess it himself.
He would have more power at his fingertips than anyone else, and the whole world would shudder with just one command. Then… then he wouldn’t be needing them any longer. Every businessman knew that, with the more people involved, the greater the risks were. It was difficult to keep a grip on every General, and the Pharaoh in particular. Marik and Bakura were the only ones able to keep him under control. However, the two, especially Bakura, were starting to ask questions themselves, developing more independency, realizing that they weren’t exactly what they thought they were.
Gozaburo wouldn’t hesitate to kill the Pharaoh if it was really necessary. An obstacle was an obstacle, and he would get rid of it before it was too late. A slow grin tugged at his lips. He was a master at strategy if he did say so himself, and for now, even though he hated being dependent on him, the Pharaoh was his most powerful possession. He had to be careful with him. Until he, Gozaburo, was the one to command the Gods, he better kept the one wielding the divine power close, and not as an enemy.
Walking through the antechamber, he was pleased to see the Pharaoh dressed in his armor, the dark midnight one, no less. It had taken Gozaburo quite some work to get the armor properly designed and exactly fitting. The installed bio-shields that suppressed this particular General’s memories and feelings were of Gozaburo’s own design. He nodded in satisfaction when he saw the headpiece, embedded in the wild, multicolored hair. It was the most intricate and most important part of the armor. It kept the Pharaoh tame, weak even, and as long as Gozaburo, or Marik or Bakura, could get him to wear it, everything was fine.
“Pharaoh, a word with you, please.”
“Speak, daimyo.”
“We have finally good news on the Resistance.”
“The Resistance,” he repeated blandly.
“Yes, the Resistance. We have found a lead to them at last. My son apprehended a double-crosser in the building. My own assistant.”
“Your own assistant? Your personnel is not as trustworthy as you assumed they would be.”
“Enough, Pharaoh. I have ordered Mahaado to take Marik and Bakura with him to end this threat.”
He snapped his head towards Gozaburo, crimson red eyes smoldering. The elderly man took a step back, hand gripping the top of his cane.
“Why do you take them to fight this Resistance? What do you know about them?”
“They are a small-scale group of rebels,” Gozaburo answered. “They do not possess any fire power, let alone enough members to form a real threat - but they are a threat, nontheless. I do not wish for them to fester in my society.”
“I will go with Mahaado. If this Resistance is like you say it is, one of my Gods will end this once and for all.”
“No, Pharaoh. I want you to stay here and rest.”
The Pharaoh looked annoyed at Gozaburo. The build-in shields in the armor worked at full capacity, and so he didn’t question the order, but muttered something inaudible under his breath.
“Why am I not allowed to go?”
“I don’t want you to be exposed to vermin,” Gozaburo said, tone suave. “Pharaoh, as soon as they return from wiping out the Resistance and getting the falsely claimed Items back, I will double my efforts to find the others, as well as your Puzzle.”
“My Puzzle,” the Pharaoh said and his hand went to his chest. “I will be here then to wait for their safe return.”
Gozaburo showed a tentative smile, more of a wolfish grin. Soon I have all the Sennen Items complete, and then your power will be mine as well. Soon, he would be the sole and undisputable leader and commander of this world, and no one would stand in his way. No one.
This part of town was… bad, Mahaado thought. He knew about Kaiba’s Elite Troops and how they were allowed to wreak havoc. The desolated, ruined and abandoned buildings were a sad and hopeless ight. Here and there Mahaado detected movement; people quickly crawling away, into the shadows, hiding themselves from plain view. How long would it take for them to be arrested and be stripped of their possessions and what little freedom they had left?
He tugged at the shoulder pad of his uniform. The only reason why he even was in this mess was because of his.. the Great Pharaoh. If it weren’t for him, Mahaado would rather have killed himself than contribute to the destruction of Earth.
Though he was anxious to find his Item, the Sennen Ring, Mahaado wasn’t too keen on hurting people. He felt a certain calling from the Item, but he didn’t know where to exactly find it. His memories told him that he was tied to the Ring for his entire life, but the connection was a little… lost? Rusted? Just like his memories were juggled, he didn’t trust them entirely. Mahaado had his magician’s staff with him and shook it for no apparent reason. He heard footsteps behind him - Marik and Bakura.
The General wasn’t happy to have those two with him. He seriously questioned Gozaburo’s sanity for ordering them to go along with him. Mahaado was quite adequate enough to deal with this on his own - he didn’t need two extra sets of curious eyes. It felt like they had been just send along to keep an eye on him. They were quite the force to be reckoned with; despite Bakura’s bored look, the man was a master at manipulating shadows, using them to his own advantage to appear and disappear at will. Marik on the other hand, was a prime example of rude, blunt force; Mahaado knew he could withstand and inflict great levels of pain. He had heard about the double-crosser being caught at the lower levels of the KaibaCorp. building; he didn’t really want to know what they had done to him.
With a simple spell, he linked his mind to theirs, so they wouldn’t need any technological communication devices. Mahaado was shocked and terrified from the pure, raw hate and anger coming through the link - apparently, Marik didn’t mask his thoughts at all. He shook his head, knowing that the Pharaoh shared a similar and permanent mindlink with them. He was going crazy from these thirty minutes they had been linked together already, he couldn’t fathom how it would be on a permanent basis.
According to the information and the orders he had received from Gozaburo, the Resistance was concentrated in a suburb of Domino City with a very typical, quaint building called a ‘Game Shop’ at the southeast of town as their supposedly headquarters. Mahaado wondered for a moment if they had gotten this information out of the apprehended double-crosser, whoever it was - if so, then he feared for that person’s life. Shivering, Mahaado summoned a defensive shield around him as he proceeded to walk into the suburb, eyes darting back and forth. It wasn’t a surprise that Marik and Bakura were nowhere to be seen as soon as they had reached this part of town. Keeping up this defensive shield and an attacking spell ready was no pressure for his heka, the ancient form of magic he used.
“Marik! Bakura! Where are you?” Mahaado tried the link again. They were as fickle as kids in a candy store! Those idiots! Heaving a sigh, he decided not to scan the area - there was no one in sight, and his shield was strong enough to withstand any attack. He would have time enough to… suddenly he gasped for breath, losing his balance, and he flailed with his arms as not to keel over. Again! Mahaado regained his composure, calling for Marik and Bakura via the mind link, and concentrated quickly on his shield. Someone was trying to tear it apart - not only trying to, but really managing to tear it apart! What force! But who had knowledge of ancient heka in this present day, safe for him and…
“Isis,” he sighed, and his concentration faltered for one moment - one second, but that was all it took.
“Now!”
He had no time to determine where the voice came from, as he was thrown against the wall, knocking the wind out of him despite his armor - he even lost his grip on his staff. Groaning, he quickly got his bearings, not about to be defeated this easily. Whoever his attacker was, they would be defeated by his signature spell. He sensed Marik and Bakura closing in on him; finally, they would do something right and arrive shortly to help him.
Quickly, he picked up his staff and started crafting his spell.
“Spellbinding circle!”
Looking around him, Mahaado saw no sign of his attacker. Sooner or later, they would have to expose themselves, and then his Spellbinding Circle would make an end to their antics. It saddened him that Isis somehow had shared her knowledge on heka with the Resistance; no one else was able to do this to his shield, unless it was the Pharaoh himself - and Mahaado was very sure he wasn’t around.
There! A gesture with his hand, and the Spellbinding Circle raced through the air, cutting the wind, speeding towards its goal. It was a powerful spell, and absorbed a great part of his heka, but he had plenty left to uphold his shield, albeit weakened, and maybe even prepare another spell to attack. Too late, Mahaado realized there was another attacker, right from the shadows itself!
“By the Gods!”
A brown flurry hit him, and pain exploded right under his jaw. He thought he saw stars, his vision blackened as he fell to the ground, his concentration broken. The Spellbinding Circle dissolved into empty air, no longer sustained by heka. Mahaado grunted as he tried to get up, his body disobeying him. He had trouble focusing, and his arms weren’t strong enough to uphold him. He wasn’t used to physical pain, and it felt like someone had rearranged every bone in his body, especially his face… his vision was swimming, and he lacked concentration to cast another spell. Where were Bakura and Marik?
“Hurry up before the others arrive.” A voice, not the same as the previous one, echoed above him. Mahaado blinked, trying to get an image of his attacker. A young man hovered over him, a frown marring his face as narrowed brown eyes gauged him meticulously. He wanted to lift up his hand, an attempt to defend himself, but he found himself unable to move, weakly struggling to get up.
“You sure still pack a punch, Honda,” that was the same voice as before, “all right, it’s time to bring him in.”
“What…” He wasn’t going to plead or beg for his life, but he did want to know what was going on. The Resistance had somehow managed to capture him, and oh Gods, the Pharaoh… he would be so mad and upset with him… please, my Pharaoh... do not let your anger rule your decisions…
A blond guy grinned at him as he swung his fist for another hit. “Sweet dreams, jerkface!”
Another blow to his jaw, and this time it knocked him out – Mahaado allowed the darkness to claim him, pain overwhelming. His last thoughts were on his Pharaoh, and his body gave out under him, as he slumped to the ground.
Honda sat on the edge of the large table in the center of the meeting room, one foot on the floor, the other one dangling back and forth. He was eating a sandwich, mouth stuffed with chicken and other leftovers Shizuka had used for filling. He had complimented Jounouchi’s sister with her cooking skills, earning himself a friendly whack from Anzu.
“Let it go, Jounouchi,” he said, quite irritably. His friend was pacing back and forth in the meeting room, arms crossed in front of his chest, and an unnatural, unfriendly scowl on his face.
“I can’t stand it,” he repeated for the umpteenth time. “Why did Yuugi even do that?”
Honda shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal? He allows one of the Generals to stay upstairs, where he never allows anyone to stay there!”
“You’ve been upstairs,” Honda pointed out. “I have been, Anzu has been.”
“Yes, we’ve been upstairs, but we never stayed upstairs. You’ve seen the rooms yourself, Honda, they’re momentums of time, they have stayed the same ever since his parents and grandfather died! No one has spend a night there, and suddenly he has every intention of keeping the man upstairs for as long as it takes for him to-” his voice went dangerously low, “recover from his injuries.”
Honda snorted and almost choked on the last bite of his sandwich. “Come on, you’re not telling me that you’re jealous, are you?”
“Oh, shut up, knucklehead,” he answered. “It just bothers me that he wants a General to stay upstairs, while it’s because of those Generals that the world is a mess in the first place.”
Jounouchi muttered a few coarse words under his breath, unable to understand why Yuugi had insisted they had to take the unconscious General upstairs, and lay him down in one of the ‘preserved’ rooms. It angered Jounouchi, because he had always treated Yuugi’s wishes with respect, and his friend hadn’t asked for more then for people to refrain from going upstairs. But an enemy, a General, just like that, in one of those rooms?
Sighing, he finally joined Honda on the table to sit still for a moment. Honda didn’t seem to be bothered by the fact that his girlfriend was upstairs – alone with Yuugi -, but even more, in the same room as that magician guy. Jounouchi still could see that Spellbinding Circle coming towards him at great speed; he wouldn’t know what it would have done to him if Honda hadn’t managed to take this Mahaado character out. Isis had said something about the magic, and Jounouchi had agreed to be the bait. He volunteered to be the distraction, but if he had known beforehand of that Circle – and he had the sickening thought that it had been more than capable of cutting him into two - he would’ve declined.
“Why didn’t you go upstairs?”
“Anzu,” Honda answered simply.
“You’re either incredibly good of faith or just plain stupid.”
“Do not imply things like that about me and Anzu, Jounouchi.” Honda’s voice was ice cold, and his friend’s brown eyes were dark with anger, barely held back. “I trust my girlfriend unconditionally, and I trust my best friend unconditionally. If that makes me stupid, so be it. If something should happen… I would know, Jounouchi.”
“All right,” Jounouchi nodded, not wanting to upset his friend. He felt bad for making that comment in the first place, and he knew that Honda knew that he had only said it because he was upset himself. Yuugi had told him to wait downstairs, in the basement, and to keep an eye on Isis – he didn’t want the Generals to be around each other. The woman in question hadn’t showed herself much since her brother had returned, and where Malik Ishtar was, Bakura Ryou wasn’t far behind. The timid white-haired boy absorbed every bit of information about the Resistance and the war, claiming he had been in Egypt for a large part of his life. He hadn’t been personally affected by the war until the day his father didn’t return home and the Pharaoh-General had wiped out almost an entire nation. Egypt and a large part of Africa had been under his command until he was recalled by Gozaburo; Bakura didn’t know why, but he took this as his chance to leave the country.
He had met Malik Ishtar at his attempt to stowaway at a ship, and they decided to travel together, meanwhile keeping their Items hidden. “He knew he had an Item just seconds before I knew he had one, too,” Bakura had told them. “My father gave that pendant to me, he worked hard as an archeologist, and he figured the Item was important.” Nobody had asked him what happened to his father exactly – people knew how cruel fate was… or in this case, Kaiba Gozaburo and his Generals.
Whereas Bakura was soft and well-spoken in nature, Malik was less friendly, openly showing his suspicion and disdain to anyone he didn’t know well enough. Bakura insisted that Malik could be quite friendly, but Jounouchi didn’t even bother to try to know the kid better. He had seen dozens of people like him during his time in the Resistance; the people who had seen too much, who had been through too much, and who closed themselves off for everything and everyone except for the ones and things they knew. It was sad, and painful, and Jounouchi felt guilty for it, but he just didn’t have the energy and the time to try to tear down the young Egyptian’s walls.
He got lost in his own thoughts, missing the strange look Honda was giving him, but his friend didn’t leave his side and together they waited for either Yuugi or Anzu to come get them, should any trouble arise.
His breathing was strong and even, and Mahaado’s eyes fluttered open. Within seconds, a pounding headache returned full force and he groaned. He couldn’t move his jaw; it felt like he had hit a ton of bricks. A ton of bricks or two firm punches, he couldn’t tell the difference.
“What..?”
His voice was low and soft, and he coughed. To his surprise, something was pressed against his lips and he pursed them, tasting cool, clear water. He drank greedily, and almost moaned in frustration when it was taken away from him again.
“Easy, easy. Can you sit upright?”
Hands touching his neck, shifting under his back. He wanted to protest, he didn’t like to be touched by strangers, but Mahaado was lifted upright and as he fell back, an amount of cushions and pillows supported him.
“All right, it was just a few punches,” a female voice sang into his ears. “You’re a tough guy, any General is - I’m sure you’ll survive.”
He forced himself to open his eyes, looking directly at the girl’s… chest area as she was still busy arranging the cushions behind his back. His cheeks flared, and he averted his head.
“Your name is Mahaado, we know that already,” she spoke again, nodding at him when she straightened herself. “My name is Mazaki Anzu.”
She was wearing a simple short with high stockings, and a sleeveless shirt that facilitated her movements. Her short-cropped brown hair framed a young, yet mature face with blue eyes. She was graceful, elegant - she moved with a confidence that reminded him of Isis. He swallowed.
“Where… where am I?”
“You are with the Resistance,” Yuugi spoke from the corner of the room. Mahaado saw him when the girl stepped aside, towards a dresser with a water pitcher on it. His eyes widened and he immediately sat upright in the bed, clasping his hands together, a look of utter surprise on his face.
“Great Pharaoh! You have been captured as well?”
Yuugi stared dumbfoundedly at him. Anzu moved away from the dresser, turning towards Mahaado, a glass with a straw in her hand, her face mimicking Yuugi’s expression.
“Great Pharaoh, why are we here? You were not supposed to follow me! You needed to…”
Yuugi shook his head as he stepped forward. He had hoped that Isis somehow had been wrong in her saying that he looked similar to the most feared General of them all, but apparently she had been right all the time. It had been stupid to believe otherwise, but still… it was mid-afternoon, and the daylight was filtered by the soft beige cotton curtains, but Yuugi made sure to stand directly into Mahaado’s line of view. The face of the magician-General fell, slowly but surely, as he realized his mistake.
His “Pharaoh” had wide, purplish colored eyes, looking at him without the weight and burdens he used to see in deep, crimson red eyes, marred with sadness and anger. His hair was virtually the same, with only a few golden strands flowing differently, his height was the same, the shape of his face was just a little rounder, but it were the eyes that told Mahaado that this was not his Pharaoh. His hand clenched at the sheet; he was so upset that he didn’t realize he wasn’t wearing his own clothes anymore.
He remained silent, knowing he had given away vital information with his reaction. Carefully, he folded his hands into his lap and looked at Yuugi, not defiantly, but confidently.
“I’m not your captor,” Yuugi said. “My name is Mutou Yuugi.”
“This looks pretty much like captivity to me,” Mahaado said. His voice was perfectly neutral, and he schooled his face into a neutral expression. He decided to test the waters first, before demanding to be freed. No doubt they had done something to surpress his heka, maybe even spiked the water he had just drank.
Yuugi took a chair and sat down, and Anzu came to stand next to him, perfectly at ease.
“You’re free to leave,” he said. “We haven’t even disabled your magic abilities or heka, as you call it. I do ask of you, however, to not engage in any of your abilities to cast spells, as there are children here, mothers with new-borns. Do I have your word on that?”
Mahaado couldn’t help to check for himself; he put up his hand and gazed at his fingers when he casted a spell, a simple one, and he looked at the familiar purplish glow. Amazing, but this Yuugi… this Pharaoh look-alike, had spoken the truth. He threw him a quizzical, skeptical look.
“You have a strange way of dealing with your… prisoners,” he finally said. “But yes, you have my word, on this only.”
“Thank you.” Yuugi smiled, beaming at him and visibly relaxing. It was a smile Mahaado longed to see on his Pharaoh’s face, and he blushed even deeper. Anzu suddenly snorted softly, leaned into Yuugi and whispered something into his ear, before turning around and leaving the room.
Yuugi rose from his chair and went to the dresser, filling the glass with water again and handing it over to Mahaado, who accepted it with still a quizzical look on his face.
“Forgive me for asking… but who are you?”
“I’m Mutou Yuugi,” Yuugi repeated. Mahaado sipped the water, reveling in the cool taste.
“No no, who are you, and how can you resemble my.. . Great Pharaoh so much?”
“I don’t know.” Yuugi sat down again, heaving a sigh. “Isis-san told me about the uncanny likeliness, but she didn’t know either…” His voice died down when he saw the look of horror on Mahaado’s face.
“This is not Isis-san’s fault,” he said. “Don’t ever think that she’s the one to blame. Yes, she offered to help us, but for a goal far greater than your own.”
Mahaado shook his head. “I would never blame her.” His voice sounded melancholy, forlorn. “She is… she is the one with the visions, she should know… she would know.”
“She gave us information on how we could… capture you, yes. She told me about heka. We had more luck than anything else, because you’re very strong.”
“And still you call yourself not my captor?”
“Like I said, you’re free to go,” Yuugi said, his smile not disappearing. “I always said to Isis-san that she was free to go as well. It’s her own choice to stay here. I don’t know if that’s because of her visions, or that she doesn’t dare to return.”
“Gozaburo-daimyo will punish her,” Mahaado said reluctantly, and Yuugi tilted his head. The General didn’t sound all that agreeable with the tyrant.
“Daimyo, huh?” Yuugi shook his head. “What a nerve, to equal himself to a feudal ruler, to think he has already won…”
Mahaado looked up from his glass. “I do not think he has won yet either, but the odds are not in your favor, Mutou Yuugi.”
“I know,” he answered. “But as long as there’s still a soul living, breathing, and hoping… and willing to fight, he’ll never win.”
“You are strange,” Mahaado said.
“Are you so used to violence and anger that you expected me… us… to torture you?”
He fell silent. He had seen lots of violence and anger, and had tried to avoid force as much as possible. Gozaburo liked to punish those who disobeyed him, even those who disagreed with him in a polite manner… not to mention ‘disciplining’ Marik and Bakura. Even if Marik was so used to pain that he lived off of it, it was still something that Mahaado disapproved of. The magician shook his head.
“Some people are convinced that chasing fear into others is the only way of gaining power and holding on to it.”
“You won’t find that here,” Yuugi said. “I’ll send some people upstairs,” there was a funny hitch to his voice, “…to talk to you, and tell you what our Resistance is all about.”
“Can I talk to Isis..?”
“Not at the moment. I’ll allow her to visit you later, but not for now.”
“I understand.” Mahaado was still befuddled about Yuugi’s attitude. How could any leader – he assumed Yuugi was the leader, otherwise he wouldn’t have spoken to him – be this kind, this… reasonable and understanding? He bit on his lip. His Pharaoh had been, once… the most rightful and determined ruler of all, serving justice and the Gods, and believing firmly in equality and the truth. He shook his head again. His memories were jumbled, as with all the other Generals, and he couldn’t trust his memories, even if he wanted to – his Pharaoh had never mentioned anything about it, but then again… that armor of his…
“Rest,” Yuugi said, interrupting his train of thoughts. “Honda-san and Jounouchi-kun hit you hard. I don’t like to use violence like this, but this was the only way we could…” He shrugged. “There is more water in the pitcher, and I’ll make sure you get something to eat as well. Just stay inside this room, all right?”
“All right,” the magician-General agreed. He had a lot to think about, and he had to find a way to reach his Pharaoh. He had the sinking feeling that this wasn’t about him, Mahaado, but about the other General. It was a given that the Pharaoh would search for him as soon as he’d learn of his disappearance. That was just a matter of time.
“Isis,” he softly said, eliciting a surprised look from Yuugi, but Mahaado reclined back into the pillows and closed his eyes. He allowed himself to drift off, worries and anxiety disturbing his rest.
“Idiots! You fucking idiots!”
Bakura flinched; not from the words, but from the whip chastising his back, tearing out another piece of skin. His body jerked violently and it took all his strength to not scream out loud in pain. He refused to let the other revel in the satisfaction of hearing him scream; he wished he could use his precious shadows to tear Kaiba Gozaburo apart.
The elderly man was seething in anger, his rage had exploded at the moment they told him that Mahaado had been captured. They had lost sight of the magician-general for simple reasons: they hadn’t made a plan of attack, just followed the magician into the suburb, and as they had been scouting the area, unaware of the heeding danger, they just had ignored to keep an eye on him.
“He had a mind-link with you! The both of you! You should have picked up on his distress!”
Another crack of the whip, and Bakura released the breath he had been holding; this time it was Marik who grunted.
“Why didn’t you move faster? Why didn’t you help him?”
Marik again, and Bakura clenched his fists. The position he was in, kneeling, back bare and bloodied, was humiliating and painful. He stared at the pristine carpet, counting the threads used to weave the non-descript pattern.
He had never been punished alongside Marik; hell, Bakura had been able to avoid punishment in general, he could count the number of being disciplined on the fingers of one hand. He was sure Marik had lost count a long time ago, assuming that he even was able to count.
“Give me one fucking reason not to un-create you!”
Marik again, and something like… empathy? pity? went through Bakura’s mind before it was his turn, and he almost choked on the wail that wanted to work its way past his teeth. He was not going to scream! He was already crying form the pain, cheeks wet, and he kept his head low so his hair was covering it up. Marik wasn’t screaming at all, just panting, and his back was a grueling, bloody mass of welts. There were all kinds of old scars on his skin, and Bakura had seen it before, but he had never thought it would form some kind of pattern. It was strange, maybe idiotic, what his mind was focusing on right now, with all this pain overflowing every single thought.
“You need us for pretty Pharaoh,” Marik yelled out loud, and earned himself a whack with Gozaburo’s cane. His head was forced back down again, grinding into the carpet. Gozaburo had difficulties keeping his hand straight – he was so mad that his whole body trembled.
“Why yes, do remind me,” he seethed. “Who is going to tell him that his beloved General has been captured? Who is going to keep him from going after him, and making me lose him? Well? WELL?”
“I’ll tell pretty Pharaoh,” Marik panted, acknowledging the umpteenth blow to his neck and head with a mere, low grunt. “I will tell him, and fuck him, and make him forget! Pretty Pharaoh is so wonderful to fuck when he’s angry!”
Bakura would’ve rolled his eyes in any other situation, but now wasn’t the time. The Pharaoh wouldn’t be happy at all when hearing that his favorite General had been captured by the Resistance, and that they were responsible for this screw-up.
“Gozaburo-daimyo,” he said, and that was the first time Bakura referred to him with an honorific. He mentally prepared for another strike of the whip. “They were waiting for us, they were prepared! It’s true, we went too far away from Mahaado when scouting the area, but we thought he could take care of himself!”
“Pretty magician-general is very strong,” Marik added, and groaned when this time, Gozaburo simply kicked him in the ribs. He turned around to kick Bakura, and he quickly added: “They had inside information! Isis must have told them how to deal with Mahaado’s heka! There’s no other explanation possible! We made a mistake, yes, but we were only the two of us…”
He didn’t want to give Gozaburo the satisfaction of begging either and he never mentioned the word ‘please’, but Bakura winced from hearing his own voice. There was definitely a pleading undertone to it, but it worked: Gozaburo didn’t kick him.
“That traitor Otogi already was down in the dungeons when I send you out,” he muttered. “I doubt he could have arranged for the Resistance to await my General.”
“There has to be another traitor in the building,” Bakura supplied. He narrowed his eyes and was too late to prepare himself; he cried out loud when the man’s foot hit him fully in the ribs, and he toppled over.
“Don’t you dare say that out loud again!” Gozaburo kicked Marik for good measure, and he moaned loudly – it wasn’t from the pain as much from the pleasure, Bakura thought, and he tasted blood in his mouth. He would never get used to that, as he was repulsed by the kick that Marik derived from it.
“Out of my sight, the both of you,” the man finally said. “You will tell the Pharaoh about your failure, and if you both are still alive after he’s done with you, report back to me.”
Bakura had difficulties getting up, his muscles aching and protesting, and his knees felt like rubber. He moved towards Marik to help him up, but to his surprise the other had strength enough left to rise on his own, body battered, bruised and beaten. He shivered from the look in his eyes – he was used to Marik’s pupil-less eyes, and he was also used to see little to no emotion in them. Today, he saw pure, raw excitement, and it was more terrifying than anything.
Chapter 3 | Chapter 5 |