Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Lady of Dragons ❯ Millennium Intermission ( Chapter 23 )

“Give me a stock clerk with a goal and I'll give you a man who will make history. Give me a man with no goals and I'll give you a stock clerk.”

 

- J. C. Penny

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: MILLENNIUM INTERMISSION

 

“Our apologies for that last one, fans! We're still getting the cameras repaired - something shorted out both every camera on the Kaibacraft 7 and the hologram generators simultaneously! While we're setting up for the Battle City Final Round, here's a quick recap of how the previous rounds went…

 

“In the Quarter Finals, it was the march of the bookie's favorites. Peter Wheeler took down Crystal Tsunami; Derik Motoh, to no one's surprise, defeated Logos; Isis Kaiba, even less surprisingly, triumphed over Ashford Clive; and although we didn't manage to get footage of it, we understand that Seskera defeated Shadi… whoever they are; we're still trying to get details as to those two.

 

“In the first semi-final match, Peter Wheeler dueled Isis Kaiba to a draw, surprising everyone! After deliberation by Seto Kaiba himself, Isis was declared the winner by Life Point count.

 

“The second semi-final match took place between Derik Motoh and the mysterious Seskera. To be honest, we aren't sure what happened ourselves, as not only did something fog up our cameras, but then something else shorted them all out! However, we were told after the duel was over that Derik Motoh defeated Seskera. We'll bring you more details as they arrive.

 

“Either way, that means that the final duel of the 13th Annual Battle City Finals will be Isis Kaiba versus Derik Motoh! To be honest, we don't think anyone's surprised that was the outcome. After all, their fathers were the two greatest duelists of their day!

 

“We'll keep you up to date on the Battle City Finals as news comes, so stay tuned to this station!”

 

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As the radio switched to commercials, the man known as Rex Raptor (he'd always found his name embarrassing, but was too attached to change it) leaned against the wall next to the bar of the Black Dream club, located at the edge of downtown Domino. The club was in its quiet stage this evening, the major rush of the night still building up.

 

Fifteen years and a great deal of time spent attacking punching bags at the local gym had teamed up to make Rex a very muscular man. He'd abandoned the knit cap of his youth, and thus his brown-and-gray hair (his hair was that way from birth) swept over his exposed biceps. He favored a green t-shirt and khaki pants; it was his favorite color combination, after all, and he'd seen no need to change what worked.

 

Out of the color of his eye, Rex noted a man with a brown afro and blue jacket hassling the bartender - said bartender took a lot of hassling, what with his bald head, facial piercings and blank stare, but he didn't deserve it. “Settle down or we settle this outside!” he yelled to the afro-wearing man.

The man in question quickly sat down and shut up. Nobody fought with the bouncer at the Black Dream.

 

Rex let out a sigh. Getting into boxing wasn't nearly as easy as “Tomorrow's Joe” had made it look when he was a kid.

 

The club's door opened, and someone walked in. Every eye in the club turned to the newcomer, and after a moment of confusion, every eye stayed there.

Taking a deep breath, the bouncer exhaled slowly, muttering to the newcomer, “I told you not to come here, Espa…”

“Why is that?” the newcomer, identified as Espa Roba, answered. “Because I steal your title of handsomest man in the club?”

 

Over the course of fifteen years, Espa Roba's taste in clothing had become very… unusual was the only word that worked. He wore a floor-length, purple velvet coat with light purple faux fur on the collar, cuffs and hem; underneath it he wore an immaculate white button-down shirt and black silk pants. His hair style hadn't changed since his youth; it still dangled around his neck.

 

“You know why I tell you not to come here,” Rex said quietly, moving closer to the door so he could keep his words quiet enough for the rest of the club not to hear. “They… don't appreciate your presence.”

Espa chuckled softly, one hand hiding his mouth. “Oh, I'm well aware this is one of those places… But given your hours and my time with my brothers, this is one of the few times I get to see you. It's rather sad…”

 

Biting his lip, Rex whispered, “Not so loud!”

 

“Do you find having me around to be awkward?” Espa looked almost hurt.

 

In an instant, Rex wished he could take that back. “It's not that… I just don't trust the people here. I never trust anyone with alcohol around you.”

 

“Ah…” Espa smiled at that point. “You're still open on Saturday, correct?”

 

Rex nodded, and then asked, “How's scamming the tourists going for you?”

 

At that, Espa laughed outright. “Doesn't it ever occur to them that just because they're in Japan doesn't mean that they can trust psychics any more than at home? I never thought I'd make a career out of the psychic bit, but what do you know?”

 

For a moment, Rex laughed with him, and then said, “So, how're your brothers anyway?”

 

“They're all doing well in school, thankfully,” Espa answered, breathing a sigh of relief. “I'm not sure what I'd do if one of them flunked out.”

Rex sighed as well. “I suppose that's all we could hope for…” He then moved to the bartender and whispered, “Put this one on my account.”

 

The bartender shrugged and took out a well-used notepad. He moved to the line labeled “Rex Raptor”… and then to the secret line he kept under it for “Espa Roba, on Rex's tab”. He'd figured them out long ago.

 

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Elsewhere in Domino, five men with silver eye pins on their jackets were in a frenzy of activity. One of them had started a fire in a trash bin, and they were tossing key documents into it at a furious clip.

 

“Letter from Seskera detailing Stage 2,” one man said, scanning a document. Two of the men were flipping through the paperwork from a third man's briefcase, while a fourth judged their importance.

“Burn!” said the one who'd started the fire. Each time he said this, the man reading off the documents would flick them into the flames.

 

“Memo from Group 3 telling us to speed it up,” read the other man.

 

“Burn!”

 

“Copy of key identifying features of the Motoh boy…”

“Burn!”

 

“Exact diagram of the life-energy gathering point…”

“Burn!”

 

“Masada's unfinished screenplay…”

“Save that!” yelled Masada, the briefcase owner who was feeding them documents.

 

“Our expense account…”

“Burn, stir the ashes, and burn any unburnt paper!”

 

As the four Order of Ammit members took care of business, the fifth was standing guard over the sixth person in the alleyway - the bound form of Mokuba Kaiba, who'd stumbled on them at random and was now being held hostage.

 

“So, what's the plan concerning me now?” Mokuba asked, not bothering to struggle.

Kicking the prisoner in the ribs, the Ammitite answered, “Our orders were to hold onto you as a bargaining chip. Losing contact with the boss doesn't change that. Consider yourself property until further notice.”

 

Masada closed his briefcase, and then shut his eyes, thinking for a moment. He then said, “You know, we have Kaiba's brother here… and everyone knows Kaiba values family above all things.”

“Yeah?” said the one extinguishing the fire.

 

“Don't be so dense. If we can't get the boss back, we can hold Mokuba Kaiba for ransom!”

 

There was a pause, as the other four took in that idea. And then, as one, all five of the Ammitites grinned. “We could be millionaires without even trying,” said the one standing guard.

 

“Well, not without trying, but…” Masada glanced to the radio by the guard's foot. “Kick the radio this way, will you? The Battle City Finals should be back soon.”

Pouring water into the trash bin, the extinguisher Ammitite stirred the ashes, saying as he did so, “And we're listening to them… why?”

 

Masada sighed. “Because until they're over and Kaiba's back home, trying to ransom his little brother won't work so well, will it?”

 

“Good point.”

After a few minutes of toying with the dials, Masada nodded. “There we go. Now let's see…”

As the members of the Order (except his guard) gathered around the radio, Mokuba inched towards it himself. I wonder how little Isis is doing, he thought. If she's as good as she was last time I visited, the Battle City Finals are in the bag…

 

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In a small house on the outskirts of Domino, one girl was trying to concentrate on the TV. This was harder than one would think, as all but one of her sisters was in the same room with her.

 

Normally this would not be a problem, but Amai Cardiac had five sisters, four of which were younger than she was. All four of her younger sisters were currently making life very unpleasant through sheer volume.

 

Finally, she set down the manga she was reading and yelled, “Quiet!”

 

There was silence for a moment, and then all four of Amai's sisters leapt over the back of the couch and attacked her.

 

This is exactly why I entered the Battle City Tournament in the first place, she thought as she shook off her younger siblings. This place is like an insane asylum! I love you, Mom and Dad, but did you have to have six kids?!? Entering the Tournament was the only way to get out of the house!

Of course, then I ran into Derik Motoh… and he wiped the floor with me. I must've lost my head for a second if I thought I could beat the son of the King of Games! Either way, that was it for my time in the tournament… and now I'm back in this zoo.

 

“Get off me!” she yelled, throwing her little sisters aside. “The commercials are almost over!” The sisters scampered away, and she pulled herself back onto the couch.

You'd better win this tournament, Derik, she thought as she picked up her manga again. I don't want to think the guy who sent me back to this madhouse was just lucky!

 

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Across town, in a cheap apartment, an overfed man in comfortable clothing kicked a pile of garbage out of his way and settled into an easy chair, bowl of popcorn under one arm. A Duel Disk was propped against a lamp, the only light in the living room, and it looked out of place amid the messy surroundings.

 

Huh, Kirby Morimoto thought. Maybe Isis was right in calling me a joke of a duelist… everyone at the card shop took turns kicking my rear.

 

But I was never really a duelist to begin with. I spent my entire life training to be a chef - I spent five years training at Taikan-so, and I was all set to be the head chef at a major restaurant in Kyoto… and then the recession shut it down before I could even get there. I got stuck working at a fast food joint to cover my bills.

 

He sighed. When that one duelist left his Disk behind, I thought it was a chance to get myself back on the map - of course, I ran into Isis Kaiba right after that, so I guess it wasn't meant to happen. I'll have to find some other way to jumpstart my career.

 

Kirby moved back in the chair, picked up the remote, and flipped to the commercials before the final round. “I don't want to think some little punk can beat the girl who took me down,” he muttered, “so take him out, Isis!”

 

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In another apartment near the center of town, two young men sat on the same couch, a bottle of sake in the space between them. Neither looked particularly happy.

One of the two, identifiable by his spiky black hair, was Musashi Mitserugi, regional champion. The other, his long red ponytail dangling over one shoulder and cane-lighter at his side, was Dante Caldera.

 

Both had just had their enjoyment of the Battle City Finals substantially quashed, and for that reason were passing a bottle of sake between them.

 

“Should we root for someone?” Musashi said before taking a swig.

“Why should we?” Dante said, taking the sake back and taking his own swig. “The kid who beat us is out of the running now.”

 

Retrieving the bottle, Musashi took another swig. “It'll give us some motivation to keep watching if we root for different people.” He handed the bottle back.

 

Dante took another drink out of it and shrugged. “I guess you've got a point. Having something to fight over might help. So who roots for whom?”

 

“I'll root for Isis,” Musashi said, taking the sake back and drinking from it. “You support Derik.”

Dante snorted, flipping a cigarette out of his pack and lighting it on the top of his cane. “Why do I have to support the brat?” he asked, taking a drag off of his cigarette before retrieving the sake bottle.

 

“Because I don't want to.”

 

“That's not exactly fair, man,” Dante complained, handing over the sake.

 

Emptying the bottle, Musashi threw it towards the garbage can. “All right. Which of us lost to Peter by the most Life Points?”

 

“I lost by 2700. You?”

 

Musashi paused, and then cursed. “6300. Fine. You can root for Isis.”

 

“Good.” Dante grinned. “We got any more sake?”

“I'll go check.”

 

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The Battle City Finals were on world-wide broadcast, and so not all of its viewers were in Japan. One household in particular was in California, U.S.A.

 

In the fifteen years since Yugi Motoh and his friends had had their adventures, Duke Devlin had changed his appearance a certain amount - after all, a chief executive officer needs to look dignified, even one of a company such as Industrial Illusions. For that reason, the wild hair spikes were gone, replaced with a more swept-back look; his choice of clothing had also changed and was more in the way of casual suits rather than “my closet just exploded”.

 

He still had the black “tear droplets” under each eye, however. He didn't have a choice - they were the combination of a childhood accident and a subsequent tattoo to hide the scarring.

 

Sitting next to him on the living room couch was his wife, Serenity. Fifteen years hadn't altered her appearance much, although she was slightly more… rounded… than before. The reason for that was sitting on the couch next to her: little Matthew, who had just turned three years old the previous month. He had his father's hair and his mother's eyes, and at the moment he had dozed off against his mother's side.

 

“How can he fall asleep like that?” Duke said, mussing up his son's hair.

 

Serenity giggled, looking down at the little boy. “I guess he must be too excited over the Finals,” she said, hugging him to her. “He wore himself out.”

 

“I guess that means he doesn't take after his uncle. Joey always had enough energy to last several days straight if we'd let him.”

Serenity paused for a moment, her expression turning faintly unhappy. “Speaking of Joey,” she finally said, “I was thinking… could we visit him one of these days?”

“Really?” Duke said, surprise evident in his voice. “After how he acted at the wedding, I thought you wanted nothing to do with him…”

 

“That was nine years ago, Duke. Our family shouldn't be split like this…” She then smiled shyly, looking down to Matthew again. “Besides, I don't want this little guy to grow up not knowing about the rest of his family.”

 

Closing his eyes for a moment, Duke thought silently and then opened his eyes again, smiling wide. “You know, I just remembered something - I was talking to one of our suppliers in the Domino area, and I happened to ask about Joey. It seems he and Mai just had a little girl about a week ago…”

All of a sudden, Duke Devlin was on the floor, pulled off the couch by Serenity and yanked up to her face. “Then we have to go to Domino!” she said, looking as happy as he'd ever seen her. “It's the perfect reason to bring the family back together!”

“All right, all right…” he said, breaking out of her grip and returning to his seat. “I'll arrange the trip the first chance I get…”

Matthew blinked a couple of times, and then yawned, sitting up. “What're you talking about, mommy?” he asked.

Serenity blushed. “We'll talk about it later, honey.”

 

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The commercial breaks finally came to an end, and the Battle City Finals were set to begin.

 

But there was one figure, watching from afar, who had little interest in how it would turn out. He had other concerns.

 

For one, he was trapped in a column of shadows, and could not escape. Only another force could get him out, and none of the ones in this world would aid him. They all knew who he was.

 

Suddenly, the column shattered. The figure, confused beyond reason as to why anyone would aid him after all this time, emerged from where it had stood.

His rescuer then came into view. “Are you who I think you are?”

“Who do you think I am?”

“I think you are exactly who I need to complete my goal.”

 

“And what is your goal?”

The two conversed for some time.

 

“Your goal… is quite worthy. I shall assist you,” the figure finally said.

 

Both of the men then began to laugh…

Coming next chapter: It's the final duel of the Battle City Finals. On one side: the daughter of Seto Kaiba, a girl with the power of light and the might of the Blue-Eyes White Dragons. On the other side: the son of Yugi Motoh, a boy who wields the secrets of magic and the strength of the Dark Magician. History travels in circles, but will it repeat itself? Find out in “The Cycle Renewed: Isis vs. Derik”!