Saturday, March 5, 2005

attack of the blackies!
sorry 4 all the pics-i went nuts drawing. lots 4 my best bud. the quote under my avatar if from hanson's "i will come to you" (if anyone knocks hanson, you will fear the wrath of my wolves!) i'm sorry if i colored lion seto wrong, but i thought he looked pretty like that. my scanner works, and i got phoyoshop 7.0 now! woo-who!!! okay, enough rambling, here's BomB.

Chapter Four
There was a knock at he door. He didn’t even look up as it was opened.
“Mr. Kaiba sir.”
“What is it Yura, I’m busy right now,” Seto snapped, still not looking to the woman.
“A detective is here to see you sir,” she said, her voice slipping slightly.
He still did not look up, but his fingers slipped on the keys. “And why is that, Ms. Kurai?”
“I don’t know sir, he won’t tell me anything,” she responded.
Now he looked away from the computer, but not to her. He removed his reading glasses, and held his chin, thinking.
“Couldn’t be about that Microsoft buyout, it was all legit. Local, or international?” now he looked to his assistant.
“Local sir.”
He scowled, thinking that his brother had been picked up for DUI, because he was driving with that Urishima boy again. Mokuba hadn’t come home last night, and Tony’s father had called at 3 am seeing if his son was there. So, long story short; neither boy had come home last night, and now he had a cop coming in to see him.
“Send him in, Ms. Kurai,” he said as he saved his work and x-ed out of it.
He closed his laptop just as Yura returned, leading a blonde, in a blue corduroy jacket. He flashed a familiar half smile, and Seto was now even more unhappy about the situation.
“Hello Kaiba, long time no see.”
“What do you want, Wheeler?” he snapped, replacing his glasses, and re-opening his laptop.
“That’s “Detective Wheeler”, thank you,” he corrected.
“Then if we’re being so formal, you will refer to me as Mr. Kaiba, thank you.”
“Touchy as always, hu?” Joey laughed, putting his hands into his pockets. “Haven’t changed much in four years.”
“How’d you get out of the police academy, Wheeler?” he didn’t look up as he spoke. “I know you couldn’t buy your way out.”
“Ouch, that hurt,” he narrowed his eyes, even though he tried to keep a laughing note to his tone.
“Sleep with all the female instructors then?”
“You’re still the barrels of laughs I remember,” he shook his head with a sigh. “Surprise, surprise, Kaiba, I do have a brain.”
“Will wonders never cease. Why are you here, Detective, I am a very busy man, you know, or do you not read papers anymore?”
Yura rolled her eyes at his comment, and quietly left the room; there was a limit of how much she could take in one day.
“Well, it just so happens that I do, and I too am a very busy man,” he pulled a note pad and pencil from his pocket. “I’m looking for your brother, Mokuba Kaiba. Age 18, 6’3”, black hair, purpled eyed, Caucasian… ”
“I know what brother you’re talking about, I only have one,” he now looked up to Joey. “I’m sorry, but he hasn’t been here all night.”
He scribbled a few notes. “You any idea where he might be?”
“Detective, what is all of this about?” he removed his glasses again, and looked to him.
He took a rolled up paper out of his inside pocket, and put it on the desk.
“Last night, at around 11 PM and midnight, an Anthony Urishima was murdered in the Domino Museum. The body was not found until 8 am this morning, by cleaning staff. The body was devoid of all blood within its body.”
He scanned the article on the front page, which held much of the same information that Joey had just told him. Now Seto looked back up to him.
“And what does this have to do with my brother, Detective?”
“We have it on record that both the deceased and your brother punched in at 6:27 PM, and neither punched out. We believe that your brother was the last to see Urishima alive last night.”
“Well, as I told you, Detective, I do not know where he is,” he rolled the paper up again. “He did not come home last night when he was supposed to. I’m afraid I can’t help you with anything else.”
Joey took back the paper, sticking it into his pocket again. “Well, you any idea where he could be then?”
“You’ve already asked me that.”
“And as I recall, you did not give me an answer,” Joey locked eyes with Seto; blue to brown. “Again. Do you know where he might be then?”
“You think that Mokuba killed the Urishima boy, don’t you,” Seto’s cold eyes reflected in his tone.
“Nothing personal, Kaiba, but I have to check out all possible leads.”
“Have you checked out Urishima’s back ground? Maybe one of his old gang members killed him.”
“I am aware of Urishima’s rap sheet, though I didn’t know that civilians were though,” he crocked an eyebrow at Seto; he lowered his eyes slightly, not because of Joey’s words, but because Mokuba’s words still stung. “But I guess money can buy anything these days, hu?”
“Except a brain for you,” Seto snapped, eyes locked on him again.
“Look, I’m just trying to do my job, Kaiba. I’m not saying that Mokuba is a murderer or anything, but he seems to be the last one too see him alive, and that is information that I need.”
Seto made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl, then pressed the call button on his speaker.
“Yes Mr. Kaiba?”
“Ms. Kurai, please provide Detective Wheeler with a list of all of Mokuba’s usual haunts.”
“If Mokuba under arrest, sir?”
“That is none of your business,” he scolded. “Just give the Detective the list.”
“He might as well be, from the way you’re acting,” she mumbled.
“What was that Ms. Kurai?” Seto growled hastily.
“Nothing sir, I get that list right away, Mr. Kaiba.”
“Seems your people skills haven’t improved,” Joey laughed.
“My assistant will provide you with the information you desire, Detective. I believe your business is concluded here?”
“Well, it was nice seeing you again, too, Kaiba,” he said sarcastically.
Yura came, and opened the door. Joey moved to leave, but before he did, he looked back.
“I do hope that Mokuba didn’t kill him. I really do,” and with that, he left.
Seto looked back to his computer screen, but he couldn’t finish his work now. He turned it off, and held his face in his hands. He didn’t know what to do now, all he could think was that he hoped that Mokuba didn’t do it either.
Chapter Five
“Hey, hey pretty lady, what’s a fox like you doing in slums like this?”
Jason Allen was a two-bit pickpocket, wanting to turn street punk. He wore dingy clothes, and talked all tuff, flashing a jack knife whenever he pleased. He’d hit on little girls, but it never meant anything. He was a low life who was no better than a pickpocket, and one who assumes that chicks are the only ones with long hair.
The black haired person stopped. “Fox? What do you mean by that word?”
“Ya know, a hottie,” he teased.
“What is a “hottie”?” now he turned.
“Whoa, you’re a dude, dude! You should like, get your hair cut or something.”
His red eyes flashed. “Tell me the meanings of the words “fox” and “hottie” and “slums”.”
“Um…” this kid looked no older than 19, but man was he scary; the scary that makes you want to tell him anything he wanted to know. “Um…a fox is a small canine, usually red, but in slang, it’s a fly chick. Hottie, is a chick who’s hot, and the Slums are the downtown, dilapidated district.”
“So “slums” is a place, and “fox” and “hottie” are words to describe females,” he was stating a fact, not asking.
Jason could only nod.
“So, you called me a woman then,” his red eyes narrowed at the pickpocket.
“I-I-I didn’t mean…” he tried to back up, he was so scared. “Dude, the long hair screwed me up, that’s all.”
“You have insulted the pharaoh of darkness,” he snarled, coming closer, cracking his fingers.
“Dude, you’re like freaking me way out,” he was backed against the wall.
“None may insult the pharaoh and live,” he snarled again, flashing overly large canines.
“Wha-what are you going to do?” he asked in barely a panicked whisper.
“I must feed,” he hissed.
He opened his mouth, fangs bared full. He struck at Jason, and clamped down on his neck. He yelled out, trying to call for help, but screams were common in that area, and went unnoticed.
He now stepped back from the drained corpse, wiping his mouth. He looked unsatisfied at the long strands of black hair that hung around his face, soaked in his prey’s blood.
“That one was right, I should cut this hair. It gets in the way too much.”
He turned away from the corpse, and planned to head out of the alley when something fell from his pocket. He picked up the leather wallet, and it flipped open to his school idea. He studied the piece of plastic for a moment.
“Hmm…Mokuba Kaiba. So, that is my new name,” he smiled vilely to himself, still dripping blood around his mouth. “So be it then. Osiris has risen once again. Beware Set, fore Osiris has returned.”
Chapter Six
The buzzer on the speaker went off. Seto pressed it, still looking to his computer screen.
“What is it Yura?” he asked, irritated that she’d interrupt him.
“I’ve a call on line one from Detective Wheeler. He’s holding Mokuba in the 93rd precinct.”
“For what? Is he being charged with the Urishima murder?” now he was infuriated.
“He didn’t say. All he said was that he’s holding your brother at the station, and that you should come pick him up right away.”
“Tell Roland to get the car ready in five, Yura. Meet me down there in two.”
“Right away Mr. Kaiba.”
Seto quickly shut his computer off, and grabbed his coat from its peg. He took the steps two at a time, pulling the old, blue trench coat on. He reached the lobby of his office building (his personal apartments were on the top floor), and found Yura waiting there, wearing an old letterman jacket.
“The car ready yet?” he shot at her.
“Ready,” she nodded.
“Then what are we waiting for?” he demanded.
The two of them went out the doors, and there was the limo, Roland waiting to open the door for them. They merged into traffic, and rode it through.
Now Seto breathed. How could his brother get picked up by the police? Mokuba had always been a good boy; he didn’t smoke, he didn’t drink, he didn’t deal or use pot. He didn’t carry weapons, unless you count a pencil; he was always scribbling things anywhere he could. He wasn’t a gang member; actually, the only thing he did wrong was come home late. So why was the police holding him?
He now removed his reading glasses; he’d forgotten that he was still wearing them. He sighed, then turned a vicious eye towards Yura as if daring her to say something about it. He was not one to show weakness, and didn’t want anyone telling anyone about it.
Yura though, didn’t seem to notice. She had, of course; nothing got past her. She was a good one to keep secrets; that was why she’d been hired.
The black limo reached the police station, and Seto was the first one out of the car. He barged his way up the steps, with Yura trying to keep up. He nearly forced the doors off their hinges when he came in, yelling.
“Where is he Wheeler?!”
Every cop in the room went silent, starring at him. One came forward; Joey was still wearing that corduroy jacket.
“Cool it Kaiba. Like I really need the Sarge on my case about you raising hell here.”
Seto grabbed Joey by the shirt collar. “Where is my brother?”
Joey wrenched himself free, taking a firm grasp on Seto’s wrist.
“Cool your jets, he’s not under arrest,” his eyes were cold.
Seto pulled his wrist back, and rubbed it; Joey had a firm grip. “Then why are you holding him here?”
“We picked him up last night, traveling around the slums. Went through usual procedure; gave him a drug test, came up negative. Asked him a few questions about the night Urishima died, that’s all.”
“Why didn’t you call me last night when you found him then?” Seto spat.
“He was way out of it, hate to say. Half the precinct thought he was on cocaine or something,” he laughed a little; Seto glared at him. “I kept telling them he wasn’t, but he really seemed like it too.”
“Ha! Like I’d believe that for a second.”
“Okay, look,” Joey sighed. “Murder wasn’t the only crime at the Museum. An artifact was stolen. When we finger printed the crate and the remaining artifacts, only Mokuba’s and the deceased were there, plus the handlers who sent them.”
“And you think my brother stole this, whatever it is,” he demanded.
“Now, I didn’t say that,” Joey pointed out. “It’s just all protocol. I have to investigate all possible leads.”
“Yeah, that’s all nice and fine for you,” Seto growled, pulling up his coat collar. “So, if he isn’t under arrest, then can I take him home, Detective?”
“If you call that office building of yours a home, sure,” Joey laughed a little; again, Seto glared. “Though, I better warn you. He does look like he’s been on crack.”
Seto grumbled some sort of curse, and motioned for Yura to follow. Joey led the two of them around the main counter, and through the back cells. Finally, they reached a holding room. Joey opened the door, allowing them inside.
There sat a dark haired boy. He had short hair, cut raggedly about cheek length. He was wearing street clothes; a jean jacket, and jeans with a hole in the left knee. His hands were folded nicely in his lap. As they walked in, he looked up; it was Mokuba all right. Yura gasped; he looked to her, curious.
“Mokuba, you’re brother’s here to get you,” Joey said.
His eyes sparked as they lit upon Seto; recognition flashed there.
“Set…o,” he breathed.
“Where have you been for the past two days?” he growled, then turned to Joey. “He isn’t under arrest, correct?”
“You can take him right now.”
“Any paper work?”
“Just need you to initial stuff,” Joey turned away.
“Yura, take Mokuba to the car. I’ll tie things up with the Detective.”
She nodded. Seto and Joey left, leaving them alone. She went over to his side, and crouched down. He looked to her, but not really seeing her.
“Are you alright, Mokuba?”
“I am fine. Why would I not be,” he was stating a fact, not asking.
“Seto was worried about you, that’s why.”
“He was not.”
“Mokuba,” she closed her eyes with a sigh, then stood. “Let’s go.”
He stood, beside her, and waited for her to lead. The two of them walked out of the room, and back through the cells. She looked over her shoulder to him a few times; he just kept starring straight. When the two of them got outside, he shielded his eyes.
“The, sun, it is so bright,” he commented and a note of wonder was in his tone.
“Yeah, I get that too when I’ve been inside too long,” she tried to laugh, but he offered no mirth in return.
The two of them got into the car, and waited. Again, he sat as he had in the holding room; hands folded neatly in his lap. Yura was nervous though for some reason. She looked back to him again; again it was like he was looking through her.
“Where have you been for the past two nights?” she asked.
“I have been around,” he answered simply.
“What happened to your lovely hair?”
“I cut it.”
“Why?!” now that surprised her.
She’d always loved his long, silky black hair, and he always claimed that he’d never cut more than a few inches from the tip. Seto had been trying to get him to cut it for years, but Mokuba could hold his own in a debate.
“It was in the way.”
That was a new one; he never said that his hair was in the way, and if it was, he was man enough to pull it back, even if others said he looked like a girl. It’d never bothered him before.
He was still looking through her when Seto returned. He closed the door, and the car started forward again. She chanced looks at either brother; Seto seemed not to notice the difference in the boy, and Mokuba watched the elder from the corner of his red eyes.
Red eyes! Mokuba had always had purple eyes! Something was wrong now, she could see that clearly. Her blood quickened; she had to tell Seto that, but there’s no way that he’d believe her.
Suddenly Mokuba looked her way, eyes now focusing on her, as if he could sense the fear in her. She quickly looked out the window; she couldn’t let him know she knew, but it was too late; he’d smelled the fear in her blood.
A vile smirk curled at the edges of his mouth; he found his next meal.

well, what you crazy peoples think?
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