Adult-FanFiction.org : Yu-Gi-OH

Exposed Shadows	By : Yami-Neferbre Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 2422 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh! Also, no money/profit is made from this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
EXPOSED SHADOWS
A/N: Hello all....So, I know, it’s a repost…boo!!!
Well, in my opinion, it’s a very much needed re-post. Every time I have re-read this chapter then tried to continue writing Chapter 3 I’ve just been getting mad. So, I went through and changed it to my liking. Hope you all enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, or any of its characters.
Warning: This story contains graphic violent and sexual content, along with profanities. If you don’t like, don’t read; and if you read and cannot handle it, don’t complain to me, you’ve been warned.
CHAPTER TWO
TORONTO, CANADA
2100hrs – Yami and Bakura’s House
“Cheka-Soldaty Bratva that is what they call themselves. Mean’s Cheka-Soldiers Brotherhood, in English. They are rooted to the Cheka, specifically the Bolsheviks, that assassinated the Tsar and his family during the Russian Revolution,” Bakura started, none too simply, gaze focused on Seto as he continued on. “The Godfather, Pakhan, Krestnii Otets, leader…whatever you want to call him, is a descendant of Yalkov Yurovsky, the leader of the specific Cheka that was ordered to do the assassination. Yalkov then used said influence and power to create this perfect image, made himself seem like the most gracious and intense man of justice in all of Russia. It covered up all the other activities he was doing while building up the Bratva and using that time and influence to cause damage and gain territory over the other gangs that were developing in Russia at the time.”
“So, the Bratva has been in existence since 1917?”
With a nod and a deep swig of his beer Bakura exhaled deeply, smiling, “Glad you know your history. Now, moving to our lovely modern era. The Pakhan of the true faction of the Bratva is still in Russia, Viktor Yurovsky; however, his cousin Yevgeny is the Pakhan of this division, which is in full control of everything within Canada, the USA, Mexico and South America. Yevgeny, though he runs this division, he does still directly fall under the rule of Viktor.”
Recognition dawning, Seto shot his one hand up in the air, “Wait wait, you mean Yevgeny Nikiforov, CEO of Valyena Corp. the currently largest pharmaceutical company in the world, the only one rivalling Karel’s?” At the raised brow, and increased smile, Seto slumped back in his chair. “And by that look you are amused at my lack of...”
“Worldly knowledge, you might be a prodigy but I have a feeling you were raised in one hell of a tight ass bubble.” Rising up, beer long finished, Bakura trekked into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge door, “Hungry,” catching Seto’s nod, he pulled out a few containers of salad and chicken. Grabbing two forks, along with managing to balance another beer, he returned to the living room. Taking the offering’s Seto quietly began to eat, waiting for Bakura to settle and continue. “Now, with that in mind. What do you think a corrupt company would do to a rival company to put it firmly under their thumb?”
“Threaten them, find any sort of unsavoury information on them and expose it. Force the company to pay them to keep them from causing any harm, or exposing any dirty laundry.”
“Common…everyone one does that. These are massive worldwide gangs that are just the tip of the iceberg for them.” Bakura murmured through mouthfuls, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Think bigger pretty boy.”
“Infiltrate and control it internally?”
Shaking his head, putting aside the finished container, ignoring Seto’s stunned expression at his gluttony. “Still too small, that method is too blatant, too many risks. What about something easier to cover up, at least for an organization that specializes in exportation of weapons, drugs and underage sex slaves.” Seeing that Seto was still drawing a blank Bakura exhaled in annoyance. “Kidnapping. The original target had been Lysbet; though she’s clearly gorgeous she would not fit the package so they would have had to dispose of her, not much use there. She was also not a virgin and she was twenty-one - too old to sell - so they would have had to kill her and that gets messy, but would have been preferable to taking a piss poor sale on her. She also was going to university, harder to catch, especially since she was attending school in the Netherlands; an area that is virtually untouched by the Bratva. Besides, there was a significantly better target still residing on home territory that was virtually abandoned and vulnerable.”
Letting the information sit in Seto swallowed deeply, pursing his lips he murmured out. “So, what was it that they were after in order for them to want to kidnap him?”
“That’s the part that gets hazy. I haven’t been able to find out much and the cover up that was created – stating that it was simply for ransom money and a warning to the company after the merger fell through; is quite air tight. That’s what the police report states, that is what is on record. All I know is it had something to do with some product – or project – all I have is the name of whatever it is…I know nothing about said drug or how it pertains to Karel. I am not privy to that information yet; something that will hopefully change now that Kuzma is gone and they will need someone to take his place as Brigadier – or Avtorityet - of one of the squads. Something I have already been told I will get if tonight’s mission was successful. Thankfully their view of success is a pretty big grey area.”
“Crafty little demon aren’t you?”
Shrugging indifferently, Bakura took a long swig of his beer, downing nearly half of it. “Considering I am a non-sworn member of the Police, I have to do everything I can to get what I need. The beauty of not being an official police officer is I can break all the laws and be exempt from them, my boss pays the district attorney general well to keep his non-members on the streets and bringing in intel.” Seeing Seto’s stunned reaction he laughed, deeply satisfied and grinning darkly. “Oh yes, I am a Cop. I was recruited during training; they made me flunk the program then hired me under the table. Anyone with a sketchy past or the clear ability to do what they want, they hire, apparently I had both prerequisites, spent half my teenage years in and out of juvenile prison for burglary, theft, assaults…everything that was erased from my record as soon as I turned eighteen. But, my boss dug it all up and I guess he liked what he saw.” Expression going solemn, and dark, Bakura finished off the last of his beer. “And it all just got that much harder over the past year to get that intel. Freeborn is a mole within the police and he found some way to get the files with the names of all the non-sworn members on the street. I am now under contract, I do exactly as the Bratva wants me to, whether that be botching police operations or aiding them. I am also to find all the other moles within the police service that are loyal to other organizations. My final duty is to keep an eye on Yami. They found out we were roommates, and the Pakhan used that to his advantage to keep Yami firmly under his foot.”
Confused, Seto questioned, finally finishing his meal and putting it aside on the coffee table quirked a brow and stared at Bakura in bewilderment. “Why? He’s not their prisoner any more, what do they care – aside from, how was it put...” wracking his brain, Seto searched for the words Kuzma spoke earlier. “On pain of death of family, stay away from the Bratva and remain silent, I’m guessing that was the terms of his rel…”
“They didn’t get what they wanted,” was the sharp interjection.
“And that was?”
Contemplating, figuring out how to word things and what to spurt out, Bakura chewed absently on his lower lip, mind eventually seeming to focus after leaving Seto in silence for nearly a minute. “The basic of what happened is Yami’s nanny had been handsomely paid and arranged for him to be taken from his home one night when Karel was out of town. They exported him out of the city to one of the underground bunkers that they possess out in the Maritimes, close to one of their shipping docks.” Standing up and moving to retrieve another beer, clearly needing more liquid aid, Seto already noticing the balled fists and shaking in the man’s form. “They tortured him; he was sixteen and they put him through things no grown man could live through with a shred of sanity, never mind a kid. He was their tool to try and break Karel, make him give up whatever this project entailed. He was with them for three months…three months of pure hell…and there wasn’t even a single moment during that time that Karel gave in. He abandoned him, left him alone to fend off the wolves. Yami got himself out, snuck off when his guards weren’t paying attention.”
“Jesus…” Seto gasped out, eyes wide. Mind scrambling he ran his shaking digits through damp hair, remembering something from earlier; he murmured it out in question. “Kuzma kept calling him shlyukha, what does it mean?”
Bakura paled at first, eyes darting down the dark hallway towards Yami room, stomach visibly knotting. Swallowing hard, focus drifting to the floor in front of him; hands so tight around the bottle in his hand that it was starting to crack. “It has several meanings. The one that Kuzma was referring to – however – is slut.”
The word slapped Seto viciously, almost as if brass knuckled had pelted him across the face. Heated fury and disgust rose up in him, bile hot at the back of his throat and teeth grinding audibly. It made everything settle heavily in his mind, giving him the answer to Yami’s sudden snap when Kuzma threatened to take him back to the Pakhan. Cracking his jaw, releasing the pressure that had built up within the joints, he lifted his attention back to Bakura. The man before him was having a hard time holding in the tremors, the audible cracking of the bottle increasing as his entire hands went white from the pressure. Swallowing hard, pushing the bile back down his throat, he ground out. “I’m guessing Yevgeny had ulterior for the kidnapping.”
Head shaking stiffly Bakura placed his beer on the coffee table, feeling the splinters of glass dig into his palm refocused his attention. “Yevgeny had been stalking him long before. I remember the first night he tried to coerce him just after he turned twelve, it was the first time he had ever been allowed to attend one of the company functions. But, then again, his mother had just recently passed and Karel couldn’t be bothered with finding somewhere else for his child to be when hosting that damn party. Yami called me absolutely terrified; he had run off from the house after being able to slip away from the sick fuck. He stayed at my place for the next few days; Karel screaming at him daily over the phone for being a waste of skin and embarrassing him, making ridiculous accusations. Karel never believed him – ridiculed him for being scared of Yevgeny – belittled him for it, even threatening to fire the personal chef when the man backed Yami up. It didn’t help that Yevgeny was around a lot after that, I’m guessing that is when the project started.”
Calming his system, and the waves of stunned disgust running through him, Seto questioned. “Does Karel know what happened? He cannot be that oblivious, not anymore.”
Shrugging Bakura flopped his head over the back of the couch, neck resting on the back as he exhaled deeply, “No clue. All I know is that he knew at least a modicum of what happened; he also has the reports from the doctors from when Yami was in the hospital afterwards, so he knows a baseline of his injuries. I have been trying to dig and find out just what they were doing to force Karel’s hand, maybe if I can use whatever Karel knows as leverage I can get the fucker to release whatever it is that the Bratva want.” With a long dark sigh, one hand reaching up to rub his temple to ward off the oncoming headache, he whispered out. “I just want my friend back…I want him to not feel so caged and worthless. Karel has let these fuckers rob Yami of having any chance of a normal life, and I’ll be damned if I let it stay that way.”
“How long have you known him?”
“Since he moved here from Amsterdam, he was about ten if I remember right. We used to play hockey and rugby together; and as odd as it sounds, I had an academic scholarship to the private school he and his sister went to. So, even though he is younger, he was in a majority of my classes. Well, at least until I was fifteen and started doing all the stupid shit I did.”
“So…twenty-years?”
Blinking, seeming to have that number settle heavy on his shoulders, he gulped, “Holy shit…yeah, twenty-years.” Blinking more he chuckled to himself and shook his head. “And we haven’t shot each other yet, that’s got to be a good sign right?”
Smiling Seto shook his head, “For your personality types, I would say so.”
Grunting, the white haired man rose to his feet and trudged back to the kitchen, snatching Seto’s empty bottle of beer and taking them to the recycling bin. “Sorry – Kaiba was it? That is about all I can mentally handle to spew right now.”
“Seto – and I think that is all my brain can handle right now.”
“Good,” ducking into the hallway quietly before popping back out, Bakura pointed into a second doorway beside Yami’s, light on and filtering out into the dark living room and kitchen. “The spare bedroom is probably your most comfortable bet…though it might be a bit dusty in there; I don’t think either of us has gone in there since he bought the place. Or, you can try and fit your tall ass on our couches.”
Brow quirking at the lame insult Seto stood up and came up beside Bakura, glancing into the immaculate room. Brow rising even more at the massive king sized bed, dark masculine furniture, and the massive window facing out into the dark backyard, he peered down at the officer. “I’m not sure that I believe that that bed has not been touched by the two of you.”
“I haven’t touched it, I happily take my partners downstairs to my king bed and the sound proof room,” with a sly grin furthering at Seto’s bemused expression, he continued seriously, face turning solemn. “And I know Yami hasn’t, he’s never been with anyone; at least that I am aware of.”
Stunned, and memories of Yami’s earlier reaction to his ogling clicked in, “Why?? There is no way that someone that looks like that doesn’t at least have a…”
“Fuck buddy,” Bakura stated briskly, amused to watch Seto stumble over the words, but said amusement dissipated quickly. “Think about it, he was sixteen when that fucker took him, and then said bastard has never let him go. Yevgeny did a very good job of getting into his head and staying there over the years, constantly reminding him that he is worthless and he belong to him. So, do you wonder now?” Seeing Seto’s slow shake of his head, he pointed to the second door in the room. “You have the ensuite, so there is no need to worry about wandering around in the dark to find the main washroom up here. Also, do not bother locking your door, it will only piss Hannibal off and he will unlock it, the damn dog is quite smart and knows how to work everything in this house.”
Scowling, Seto ground out, “The damn mutt is evil.”
“That dog is a fifteen grand highly trained animal, an extremely sophisticated K9. He might seem evil, but ninety percent of that is his training, he is still a playful dog under all of that when he is not in work mode. He just doesn’t like you because you are new, and you have made Yami very uncomfortable. All things that tell him to put you in a corner and rip your face off.”
Shaking his head furiously Seto stammered out, voice semi shrill, “An animal should not be given that much leeway and intelligence!”
Bakura grinned, shuffling away and heading into the dark house towards the stairs at the back of living room. “I used to think like you, until I understood everything behind K9’s, their handlers, and just the sheer volume of amazing things those dogs can do. If Hannibal wasn’t here, I would have lost Yami a long time ago. He is the reason Yami is still alive, and he’s saved my ass more times than I can count. I owe everything to Hannibal.” With that he descended the stairs and disappeared from sight, leaving Seto in silence.
Pursing his lips Seto watched Bakura disappear before letting his gaze drift into the room beside the guestroom. Even though it was dark he could see Yami curled up on the bed, the blankets almost carefully tucked around him, while dark eyes watched him from the darkness. Hannibal was laying on the opposite side of the bed, cuddled up against Yami, his head resting on his handler’s hip with one of Yami’s hands laced through the hair on his neck. As threatening as Hannibal seemed, merely from being the same colour as the seeping blackness that filled the room; but his eyes were merely watching quietly, unthreatening – just watching. Protectiveness radiated off of the animal, but no animosity seemed to be there anymore, just an odd calmness as he guarded his handler. With a bow of gratitude at the animal, Seto ducked into the guestroom and closed the door.
2330hrs – Chartwell Rd, Oakville Estate Homes, Toronto
Sleek black and masked further with dark tinted windows, the limousine pulled up along the stone front driveway and slowed to a perfect stop in front of the steps leading into an expansive modern home. Bright laughter could be heard from within as a butler carefully descended the stairs and opened the back passenger door. He stood stiffly, one hand extended out to guide a sweet and delicate one as an exquisite young woman glided out, thick white fur coat barely covering the liquid dream that was her figure hugging dress. She thanked him sweetly; soft Russian accent noticeable and she stepped aside to allow the other passenger to follow. Blushing, always feeling vibrant and shy around her husband of twelve years, Annushka brushed a soft copper lock out her face as he stared up at her from inside the car with intense golden eyes. Though older than her by nearly twenty years, Yevgeny was well sculpted and ruggedly handsome; face accented by structured cheek bones, bright blue eyes and brushed back short salt and pepper hair. Aside from his hair colour, the rest of him showed no sign that he was over fifty. “Come my love, its cold!”
Grinning he stepped out, thanking the butler and the driver before sweeping his hand across her shoulder then letting it drop down to her delicate waist he guided her into the house. Her skin was a perfect porcelain, unblemished and glowing, something he always loved about her. Her curves were soft but very feminine, accentuated by the glittering gold dress and the pearl necklace that draped down her front and lessened the intensity of the dresses plunging neckline. Hazel eyes coyly twinkled at him, hopes for later this evening clear in them, intensified by the sly smile she gave him as they stepped in the warmth of their home. Playfully, she allowed her fur coat to slip from her shoulders, nearly dropping it on the marble floor before the butler reflexively grabbed it. His grin deepened, she was the only woman that could satisfy him, he could ravish her to his heart’s content and would always be sated by her sweet delicate body and the fire of her passion. Thankfully, she did not know the dark place where his the rest of his desires fell, something that had gone unsated by other toys in the past years, his mind always drifting back to his favourite. Reaching out, brushing away those delicious thoughts, he ghosted his hand up her arm, “Behave yourself, my dove; I have business to attend to.”
She pouted, but she understood, winking at him and striding into the house disappearing towards the winding glass and metal stairs leading upstairs, very much conscious of the sway that her hips and the damage it was doing to his restraint.
Taking off his own jacket and quietly handing it to the butler with another thank you, he knowingly pushed into the closed room beside the front doors; his private office and sitting room. Adjusting his suite jacket his face fell into a stiff dangerous mask, crisp eyes absorbing the room around him. Three men sat waiting for him, his three most trusted, sitting in their own mannerisms in plush white leather chairs. The room was darkly painted in a rich grey with mahogany wood panelling intensifying the blackness. Only one single chandelier hung from the ceiling and its light was dim.
Arik, his true second, was a beast of a man, barely fitting in the chair. Built like a brick wall he was expansive in both strong structure and over intensified muscle. Thick black hair was buzzed down into a perfect crew cut, scars riddle his face and exposed hands while tattoos covered the rest. He appeared to be all brawn, but the man’s intelligence was vast and greatly useful. Dmitri was a well cut gentleman of his age, but scrawny and clearly more of an intellectual than a fighter, his frame slight and dark eyes framed with glasses. He was his sovietnik, his second mostly in business, but still assisted where needed when Arik was busy in the field. The other was a plump man; Svenkov had downed a vast amount of vodka in his days, but his ability with numbers made him infallible as a kassir, his book keeper and accountant in short.
Sitting down in the remaining chair he leaned forward and filled a crystal glass with the Glenfarclas 1955 scotch and water blend on the coffee table. Swirling it he leaned back, sipping its rich creamy flavour, savouring as he refocused on the men around him. “Well?”
“Kuzma is dead, mission was a success, though not as expected,” stated Dmitri, tone stiff and arrogant.
“Explain.”
“It wasn’t Bakura who ended up being successful. Kuzma figured out what was going on and avoided the trap, causing quite a raucous at Le Jourdain. Freeborn had to send in reinforcements to finish the job,” Svenkov expounded, tipping his head back and downing the scotch in his own glass, barely withholding a belch.
Withholding disgust at the man’s antics, glancing at Arik he quirked a brow, “Who was the reinforcement, Sasha?”
“No, Sasha’s crew was securing a drug drop last night,” Arik stated, voice deep and menacing, but quiet in the same breath. “Freeborn sent the young Raske in; apparently he was on duty nearby and as always Freeborn was desperate.”
Jaw clenching Yevgeny cracked his neck then chugged back the rest of his drink, trying to calm his irritation, “He was told not to let him anywhere near us; I want the boy to remain intact.”
“Aside from a few scratches, grazed gunshot wounds and a concussion; he is fine. He was also the only reason this did not become a disaster. He shot Kuzma with no witnesses except for his family that was there, so cover up will be easy. Freeborn has already worked to correct everything and has tampered with the evidence. He also put young Raske on a two month suspension pending investigation of the incident,” Arik interjected calmly, knowing that he was the only one that could every get away with cutting off the Pakhan. Yevgeny stared at him levelly, clearly reading into his thoughts from the last statement. “We could use this time to our advantage to get what we want out of the boy and get him back where he belongs.”
Brow quirking and relaxing back Yevgeny mulled it over in his mind, tapping his jaw as he did so. “See that he is given a timeline. I am growing quite tired of being without all of my property.” Rising he strode to exit the room, stating commandingly over his shoulder. “See yourselves out. Arik, I want you to speak to him personally, and do not forget to promote Bakura, his mission was successful regardless and he will be exceedingly more useful to us now.”
Standing, cracking his knuckles and neck, Arik not so gently pulled the other two men up and shoved them towards the door. “Make yourselves useful. Double check everything from the raid and make sure the shipments will be ready. The two of you have been useless as of late – as it is Svenkov you are still lucky to be alive as it was your nephew that was one of the careless ones that let the boy escape.” Loving the flinch in the fat old bastard, Arik gave them a final shove through the doorway and towards the front door. “See to it that you continue to please me, or the Pakhan will know of all of your continued failures to return his property to him.”
Straightening himself, and clearly holding back a retort, Dmitri aligned his glasses and exited firmly towing Svenkov with him. Watching the two disappear into a previously called cab, Arik shoved his hands in his pocket and fished around for his phone, he had work to do.

Saturday - 0900hrs – Yami and Bakura’s House
The mingled sounds of a dog barking, scampering feet outside, a ball bouncing loudly against the fence, and the screech of a tea kettle startled him into alertness. Groaning, neck popping as he shuffled under the plush comforter and smooth sheets Seto blearily stared at the clock on the nightstand. Blinking against the time and grumbling to himself, he shoved the sheets and covers aside and sat up straight, feet meeting the cold carpet beneath his feet with an unappreciative hiss and flinch. Stretching he tried to ward off the morning cold that hit him, it didn’t help that he had slept in just his undershirt and boxers as the bedding had been insanely warm. It was encouragement to slip back under and sleep some more, but the wafting mix of tea, something sweet and delicious, bacon, and the awakening aroma of coffee told him that getting up was best. Quickly pulling on his slacks and socks before plucking the housecoat off the back of the door he stepped out into the warm and inviting house.
Warding off a yawn he waved at Bakura whom was in the kitchen pouring two cups of coffee, while stirring a piping hot cup of tea at the same time. Brain not computing the multi-tasking occurring in front of him Seto gave a simple nod when Bakura pointed at the cream, accepting the cup that was thrust at him, then squawking when the cup of tea was pushed into his other hand.
“Take that to Yami please, he’s outside. Tell him he has five minutes before breakfast is ready.”
Merely nodding groggily Seto followed Bakura’s pointed hand towards the back door at the rear of the kitchen. Slipping on a pair of slippers that were borderline uncomfortably small he pushed the door open carefully, preparing for the intense cold that he was expecting, only to be mildly surprised. It was a balmy spring morning, most of the snow from last night was already melted, and the sun was quite warm and pleasant, not a cloud in the sky. Taking a moment to inhale the sweet air Seto glanced around, taking in the view of the backyard.
The entire back fence line – which was a good quarter acre away – was covered in thickly grown poplar and spruce trees. The fence itself was at least seven feet high, well-manicured wood that was solid, creating a perfect privacy barrier. A deck extended from the back door across the entire backside of the house, simple, but large enough for the decent sized barbeque and large patio to fit snuggly. Aside from a large fire pit a few feet away from the deck, the rest of the yard was flat grass, complete open space that Hannibal was clearly enjoying. The dog barked happily, feet prancing around after dropping a neon rubber ball at Yami’s feet before said ball was chucked to the far end of the yard. Yami had his back to him and was sitting on the edge of the deck, an icepack tightly pressed against his leg with clear plastic wrap and a thick blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Head turning after tossing the ball Yami extended that same hand out to him. Taking the hint Seto passed him his tea and sat down beside him, making sure to give a comfortable distance between them.
Yami exhaled beside him in relief, enjoying the heat of the tea hitting his face, savouring its rich taste. Kicking the ball that had just been dropped in front of him again with his good leg, he quietly murmured out, “Sorry if we woke you, I do this every morning during our days off – though this is usually after we’ve gone for a good run, that way I don’t have to do this for very long to burn off some of his energy.”
“I needed to be up anyway,” Seto said softly, smiling down at the man beside him, catching crimson eyes tilt up to him. “Besides, whatever Bakura is cooking smells amazing.”
Yami chuckled, “Pancakes and bacon is the only thing he can cook, he only knows how because I taught him – the fucker can barely avoid burning toast.”
“He’s doing better than me…I do not know how to cook anything.”
With a quirked brow, and bright amusement on his face, Yami fully turned to peer at the former CEO. “Seriously, you are what, thirty – and you can’t cook.”
“Thirty-three, and my hired chef was better than I could ever be,” Seto murmured in shame, chugging back some of his coffee to try and ignore Yami’s obvious snicker. “I was spoiled alright. I went from being cooked for at the orphanage to having a personal chef that my adopted father had, to keeping said chef until Mokuba decided that one of us needed to learn how to cook. Needless to say he is the one that got married and learned how to cook…that and she is a trained chef and used to bring me leftovers.”
“So you were very spoiled,” said the officer with a grin, wincing a bit when Hannibal suddenly plopped between his legs and rested his head on his injured thigh. The dog gave his handler an apologetic look before licking the plastic, tongue wagging at the forgiveness radiating from Yami’s hand as he caressed the dogs ears. “I wasn’t much better to be honest. My father hired a personal chef after my mother passed away; I just got lucky that he was a wonderful man and loved company. He taught me how to cook, mostly because he got sick of me just watching him from the counter and decided that someone needed to teach me some life skills.”
Smiling down at him, Seto babbled softly, “Well that was good of him.” All he gained was a quiet hum in the back of Yami’s throat, and the young man’s gaze turning to stare peacefully at the trees. “How are you feeling this morning?”
A shrug and a quiet response followed, “Pretty fucking sore.”
“You seem to be in a way better mood at least.” Flinching at that comment, Yami placed his cup in his lap, both hands holding it and his head bowed. Panicking at he had said something off, Seto stammered out. “I’m sorry…I didn’t…”
“Its fine, Mr. Kaiba. I know Bakura’s mouth ran away with him last night, probably wanting to explain a multitude of things that you experienced. By what I heard before I fell asleep he told you a lot more than I ever wanted you to know, than even Lysbet knows. With that in mind…I have one condition to whatever relationship we may have, whether friends or simply acquaintances.”
“And that is?”
Hard eyes stared up at him, body stiff, “Don’t pity me. I don’t need it, and I never will. The instant you walk around me as if I am surrounded by glass, is the moment I will kick you out the door. I may be a vastly fucked up individual, but that does not mean that I want to be treated like a porcelain doll. Treat me as an equal, and we just may become friends.”
The intensity behind that look made him swallow, taking a deep sip of his coffee to righten himself, Seto gave a solid nod, “I will do so, so long as you promise not to call me that. My name is Seto, Kaiba is my adopted surname and I have come to distain it – especially since it is what everyone used to call me when I was, shall we say, an arrogant asshole.”
“Deal,” Yami answered, one hand extending to Seto. “Pleased to meet you, Seto.”
Grinning, Seto grasped the extended hand relishing in the contact as the young man’s small but strong hand gripped his in a customary greeting, a wet cold nose following it. “And I you, Yami.”
“For fucks sakes, I said five minutes!” came Bakura’s boisterous yell from the kitchen, causing Yami to grin and Seto to nearly drop his coffee. “Get your asses in here or I’m not sharing!”
Glaring back at the door Seto grunted in annoyance and stood up, “Not much of a morning person is he?”
Shaking his head, one hand steadily holding the cup in his hand while the other rested on Hannibal’s strong back to ungracefully pull himself upright. The only sign to his discomfort was the narrowing of his eyes and the tightening of his lips. Meandering to into the house Yami stated over his shoulder, “No, and I am guessing he gave you a time frame and you forgot.” Holding the door open for Seto and Hannibal, Yami kicked off his shoes and allowed the door to close behind him while entering the blazing heat of the kitchen. Bakura was already sitting, and gorging, at the dining room table. Signalling for Seto to sit down, he placed his tea on the table before carefully limping to the island in the kitchen. Hannibal knew what was coming, and was patiently sitting by his food bowl stationed at the edge of the island. Yami first refilled the water dish before pulling out the raw food from the fridge and dishing it out into the food bowl. Holding it up in the air, Yami made a few quick signals with his hands, commands clear as Hannibal immediately laid down, crawled forward, rolled and then sat up on his hind legs with his front paws crossed in front of him. With a warm smile, Yami placed the food down, gently rubbing the dog’s head in affection and praise then limped over to the table.
Having watched the entire exchange with avid fascination, Seto piped up around mouthfuls of pancakes, “I didn’t know you could train dogs with hand signals.”
Sitting down carefully, breathing through the stiffening of muscles with a slight frown, Yami relaxed in his chair. “Hannibal knows nearly a hundred commands via hand signals, along with verbal commands in English and Dutch and can recognize nearly two hundred words in both. The only difference between Hannibal, and the dogs I worked with in the military, is I have not been able to train him on parachute drops.” Seeing Seto’s eyes widen and hearing Bakura’s audible snicker, Yami simply shrugged. “For just a dog, he’s pretty smart.”
“I’m impressed. You were in the army?”
“Yes, for eight years, joined as soon as I was legal age. I did four years of schooling before going into active duty.”
“K-9 unit?” giving a single nod in response, Yami cautiously watched the former CEO, his comfort level rapidly decreasing, nerves still more frazzled than he would like to admit. “Is that where those scars came from?” Again, another single nod, crimson eyes turning away and small hands reaching out to grab his tea and slouch into his chair. “IED?”
“Want some more coffee?” Bakura interjected rather loudly, standing up and striding into the kitchen, russet eyes giving Seto a hard look as he did so.
Hiding a shaky and grateful exhale at his friend’s outburst, Yami took a long drink of his piping hot tea, eyes closing as he did so. He re-opened them and glanced up when the cold plate in front of him tapped his elbows, seeing Bakura’s pleading expression he sourly sat up and quickly nibbled on a piece of bacon. Bakura sighed clearly in relief, plopping the fresh cups of coffee in front of Seto and then in his spot before sitting back down. Avoiding Seto’s questioning face, he further relaxed into the chair, one hand dropping down to pet Hannibal’s questing head – the dog had already finished and was sitting beside him, a low hum in the back of the K9’s throat, warning him. Formulating words in his head, and mulling over whether or not to answer, he finally quietly whispered out after several minutes of silence, “It destroyed the Humvee we were rendezvousing with, along with the three other mines in the area. It killed everyone inside and within a short radius, the few of us that were far enough away somehow survived in various stages of intact. That was my last mission; I was permanently discharged after I recovered enough for a full mental and physical assessment. Needless to say I think it’s obvious which one I failed.”
Absorbing it in while stuffing in his last few bites of food, cerulean eyes focused on Yami’s almost childish position, and the clearly dazed gloss in his eyes. “Sounds rough.”
Shrugging, almost nonchalantly, Yami stood up from his chair, taking Hannibal’s hint before his nerves continued to rise from the reminiscing, “Such is war.” Giving Bakura an apologetic expression at the fact that his plate was barely touched, he bowed out of the room and disappeared towards the bathroom intent on having a shower. “I’ll be out in a few,” he called down the hallway before disappearing into his room.
He could still feel the remaining blood on his skin from last night, the sticky sensation running chills up his spine. Allowing Hannibal in behind him, Yami firmly closed the door and stripped carefully, being mindful of his injuries and the caked blood that slipped off his skin and littered the floor. Making a mental note to clean that later he cranked on the hot water making sure it was near scalding before stepping into the tub and closing the glass enclosure. He was glad that Bakura had packaged his uniform up already for him last night so he did not have to deal with them, scrubbing the remnants off his skin would be enough.
Except over the fresh stitches, he viciously scrubbed his skin raw, pulling off layers of grime and almost stripping him of a full subcutaneous layer aided by the intensity waters temperature. It was times like this he was glad he never really grew much for hair like most men, his legs were thickly caked and with how raw he scrubbed them he would have been pulling out hair if there was any there, his arms were just as bad. Satisfied that he had peeled all the filth off he allowed his hands to brace himself upright and dropped his head down, the hot water pounding into the back of his head and relaxing the intense stiffness in his neck and shoulders. When the intense pounding in his head slowly lessened he carefully rose up and washed his face, wincing each time he passed over the fresh bruises over his jaw. Done with that, he started to wash his hair when a low familiar growl echoed in the room, standing the hair up on the back of his neck. Quickly turning off the water he opened the shower door and peeked his head out, cold air hit his face and the fog in the room dissipated signalling that Hannibal had opened the door and barrelled out. Blinking in confusion before scrambling out he haphazardly dried off, barely slipping into the clean sweatpants and tank top he had put in the bathroom earlier he cautiously stepped out into the living room. Spotting Hannibal, whom had bolted straight for the front door, he swallowed hard at the strength of his partner’s growl and darted across the room. Clambering up beside him, not yet acknowledging Seto and Bakura, he grabbed a strong hold on Hannibal’s collar and snapped his fingers. Rear end plopping down in obedience Hannibal pressed his nose against the door, still growling, poised and ready to launch.
Looking up from doing the dishes, Bakura and Seto gave him a quizzical look, Bakura’s switching to dangerous promptly at Hannibal’s insistent snarling. Without a word, he opened one of the cupboards and unclipped two pistols that were fastened to the top. Ignoring Seto’s bewildered expression he hurried up to Yami and pressed the second gun into his friend’s shoulder. Taking the offered weapon, Yami flicked off the safety and cocked the weapon, “Seto, stay inside.”
“What’s going on???”
“Shut up and stay down,” Bakura snarled kneeling down at the other side of the door from Yami, reaching out to tightly grab the handle. Every ounce in him trusted Hannibal just as much as he did Yami, and if the K9 was reacting, them something was severely wrong. The rumble of a familiar engine pulled up out front, clenching his gut in unease, he could see every muscle in Yami’s body tighten, but his composure remained calm. “Seto called Yugi for a pick up…he’ll be here any minute…” he whispered in warning. Yami’s eyes narrowed and he rose up, signalling with his gun towards the door to open it. Jaw clenching he nodded, turning the handle he swung the door open, Yami still holding Hannibal’s collar went out first while he glanced to the kitchen to make sure that Seto had listened. Glad he had he stood up and followed Yami outside, his gun pressed against his hip in reassurance.
Having stopped at the bottom of the porch, Yami glared across the yard at the familiar black Shelby GT parked out front and the man that had already exited it. Gun held behind his back he locked with a pair of violet eyes that glanced at him, their owner halfway up the driveway just getting out of his own car. “Get inside, now,” his tone was short and harsh, but it needed to be. Confused as all hell, and unnerved by the burly man on the street Yugi swallowed hard and obeyed, moving his feet and darting behind Yami and barely dodging around Bakura before ducking into the safety of the house. Assured that his cousin was safe, and with Bakura’s strong figure beside him, he called out, “What are you doing here Arik.”
Smiling Arik slowly strode up the walkway to the porch, taking his sweet time. “Congratulations Bakura, you’ve been promoted. Come by the base tonight and you will receive all your new commands, merchandise, along with assert yourself in front of your crew. Twenty hundred sharp don’t be late.” Stopping but a foot away from the two men, he glanced down at Yami, catching sight of Seto and Yugi watching from the door way, this wrinkled his plans a little and soured his mood. Withholding a scowl he snapped his hand out and gripped Yami’s elbow tightly, ignoring the dogs angry barks, knowing full well Yami had good control of the animal. Smiling at Bakura’s obvious flinch he tightened his hold. “Come with me Raske, we have things to discuss.”
“Over my rotting corpse,” Yami snapped, hand releasing his hold on Hannibal’s collar. Judging that Arik would yank him forward he pulled the gun around and aimed it squarely into the burley man’s crotch, the barrel pressing hard in warning. “Let go, I’m sure you want your balls to remain fixated to your body, along with your hand.” Arik snarled, fury pouring off him, but he released, stepping back to relieve the pressure. “Get it out quick; resisting putting a bullet in your head is rather difficult.”
There were reasons he disliked the boy, and he was finding it easy to remember why. As a teen he had been defiant and crafty enough, the older and older he got the more brutal and intelligent he became. A giant problem, one he wished his master was not so obsessed about keeping alive. “You have three months to return the product to us. You fail, and your family is dead and you will be back with the Pakhan.”
Chest tightening Yami’s fists tightened, breath quickening. He had got no closer than Bakura over the years as to figuring out what it was his father was withholding from the Bratva, never mind where it was. Karel had kept a pretty good hold on his little secret and was seemingly planning on keeping it that way. Short of beating it out of him, Yami had been desperately searching for answers for the past fourteen years with no luck; the timeline given was just ludicrous. Keeping his tone even and confident, masking his racing mind, he stated bluntly. “You know that’s impossible.”
Arik shrugged, “That sounds like a you problem.”
“This is insane Arik; we don’t even know if Karel still has the product never mind what it is!” Bakura spat out, he snarled when Arik just shrugged again, one of Yami’s strong hands holding him back as he raged. “Dammit, you mother fucker!”
Yami laced his fingers through Hannibal’s hair, trying to calm himself while keeping firm pressure behind the hand he had on Bakura’s chest. He could feel Yugi and Seto staring at his back from the doorway, their worry an intense breeze. His mind was racing, no clear or discernable thought sticking never mind giving him assurance. His throat tightened when Arik grinned darkly, mockingly, attention locked on him while he laughed. The sound brought back a rush of memories and emotions, clenching his jaw he tried to quell them, watching Arik closely as the man moved closer. A single hand lifted almost reaching towards something lost, the same thick hand he remembered that used to break bones while that same laughter rang out. As bile began to rise in his throat, he was overwhelmed with the memory of said hand pinning him to the concrete floor so Yevgeny could dominate him. A shiver sliced up his spine, his mind beginning to panic as Arik drew even closer, that hand now barely an inch away from him. Swallowing the bile he snapped his gaze away, trying to focus on restraining Bakura while willing his mind to calm. His entire body went rigid when the sensation of Arik’s grip on his shoulder radiated through him, Hannibal began to snarl and bark viciously beside him waiting to be relinquished as crimson eyes drifting back to lock on the giant standing in front of him, all courage rapidly bleeding from him.
“Well, if that’s how you see it, maybe you should just hand over the little shlyukha. Having him chained up in a cell will make my life significantly easier, and I am sure you will hear no complaint from the Pakhan, he has missed defiling his favourite toy.”
Barely quelling the roar in his throat, Bakura tried to launch forward, forcing Yami to relinquish his hold on Hannibal to restrain him. Rage boiling over in his voice, fighting through Yami’s hold and forcing his friend firmly behind him, breaking Arik’s near bruising grip on Yami’s shoulder. Cuffing away the man’s burly arm with one hand his other rose with the pistol pointed with deadly accuracy at the centre of Arik’s forehead. “Fuck you! If you dare to come near him again I will burn your balls off and feed them to you. You have to the count of ten to get off my property, or death be damned I will let Hannibal rip you apart and fill your ass with bullets. One..! Two…!”
Arik simply grinned, chuckling as he backed away slowly towards his vehicle. Clearly un-phased he smartly saluted Bakura once he reached his vehicle, ignoring the continued loud counting echoing from the cop, “You will make a damn fine Avtorityet. Remember, twenty hundred, don’t be tardy.”
Yami watched quietly as the sleek black vehicle roared and pulled away, barely realising that Bakura was guiding him none too gently back into the house. Hannibal was pacing the end of the yard, sniffing the air and growling after the vehicle. Heart pounding in his chest he tried to slow it, breaths coming in ragged while he forcibly tried to even it out. Images swirled through his head, uncontrolled, vile, causing his stomach to wrench and muscles to begin to quake. Closing his eyes he continued to try and quell the demon in his head, cursing what that simple word and simple touch did to his mind.
He was oblivious to the sound of Yugi and Seto coming outside rather noisily, flinching as gentle hands gripped and shook his shoulders. It grounded him, forcing him to snap his eyes open, body stiffening when his vision focused on his cousin’s face and panicked voice. The voice was welcome and familiar, but the touch was setting his nerves on fire. The darker side of his mind was in full control, generating wave after wave of panic. The touch was burning, melting his skin and creating unimaginable pain, his mind fabricating the illusions before him and wiping away the image of Yugi standing in front of him, disabling his ability to register what Yugi was frantically spewing out. His feet, still bare, touch the cold tile and slammed him with the sensations of the concrete floor that used to be his cage. Inhaling sharply, an audible wheeze, he shoved Yugi hard and backed away – another face over that of his cousin’s, golden eyes much akin to a lions stared at him with dangerous hunger. Jaw tightening he backed away until his back hit the edge of the counter, all he could see was those amber predatory eyes devouring all the strength within him. Fists coming up to protect himself, his voice a low whimper, “Don’t…don’t touch me…”
Eyes narrowing Yugi moved both his hands up to cover the fists aiming towards him, gripping them tightly and bracing himself as Yami tried to wrench away. With deep dread and deep seeded anger settling in his gut Yugi quickly recognized the signs that he had seen over and over again in patient’s from the hospital. He had left that job for a reason – the pain it created in his heart every time he had to help calm the mentally ill that suffered from PTSD twisted away with a blunt chisel at his faith in humanity. He knew from Lysbet that Yami had it, but she clearly had no idea to what severity, and this was already proving to be far more dramatic than he was used to. Panic was still pulsing through his cousin, crimson eyes hazy even though he seemed to be alert to his surroundings. Yugi knew that he saw none of it; he only saw the hallucinations playing before him. Beneath his fingers Yugi could feel the intense muscle spasms raging under Yami’s skin, signalling that his cousin was far more lost than he appeared. Shifting he put his hands between Yami’s arms and forcefully separated them, allowing him to quickly invade Yami’s created circle of protection. Shakily he lifted his hands and tightly cupped Yami’s face, thanking every god that was listening as the still balled fists merely pressed into his sides, causing no harm – assuring him that some small part of Yami’s mind was still aware of who he was. Swallowing hard he whispered out, trying to stay directly within Yami’s vision as unfocused eyes drifted around, searching for something, “He’s gone Yami, it’s just us, he’s not here anymore, you’re safe.”
Blinking in stupefaction, Yami shook his head in panic. He could hear Yugi’s voice, but the face in front of his was of the monster who broke him. Hands coming up to try and brush Yugi’s away, he tried to struggle, tried to fight; but terror kept him from lashing out for fear of the punishment. Yugi held firm, increasing his hold on his head like a tightening vice. It only increased the panic in his system; mind not processing anything, only picking up on the few words that instilled pure fear in him. “No…no…get away…Get off of me!”
Sighing exasperatedly, Yugi peered back at Seto, whom was leaning awkwardly against the couch and staring on in shock. “Seto, stop gawking and help me!” An audible grunt emitted from his throat, Yami’s body weight shifted staggered backwards, desperation to flee pulsating through flexed muscles. Internally cursing he shifted hands with quick reflexes and pressed both of his thumbs firmly into Yami’s traps while pulling him away from the edge of the counter. Grimacing at the pained wince that emitted from Yami, he exhaled in relief when the muscles beneath him gave out causing Yami to stumble forward then sink rapidly to his knees. Head snapping up when he saw motion behind his cousin, Yugi’s gaze locked on Bakura’s in surprise. The cop was far faster than Seto and, probably the better option. With practiced ease Bakura hooked both arms under Yami’s and snapped into a perfect full nelson hold, both knees resting tightly against Yami’s hips to hold him still. Hannibal was there in an instant, insistent head nudging Yami in the side, whining when he did not receive a reaction.
Breathing heavily, mentally darting around and taking in a visual of Yami’s vitals Yugi relinquished his grip and returned his hands to Yami’s face, breathing a sigh of relief that Yami’s struggles had dramatically reduced in defeat. Exhaling loudly Yugi rested his forehead against Yami’s, staring down at eyes clenched shut and jaw gritted tightly, “Relax Yami – he’s gone and he’s not taking you anywhere – take a deep breath and come back to reality. He’s gone, it’s just us.”
“Please…” was the almost pitiful word that fell from Yami between gasping breaths. “Don’t…stop it!”
Bakura flinched noticeably, biting his lip in fury and concern, relaxing his arms to a different position, hands taking hold of Yami’s opposite forearm with each hand and hugging them tightly to Yami’s heaving chest. “For fucks sakes, don’t let him win!” His tone was harsh, more so than he wanted, but the desperation behind it was more audible.
Feeling his heart clench Yugi quelled the anger mounting within him. He had a basic idea before of what happened, but this was illustrating the picture for him in horrifying clarity. Echoing Bakura, he whispered out gently, voice almost a whisper, digits rubbing trembling cheekbones damp from what he guessed were tears and sweat. “Breathe Yami…don’t let the memory of what he did destroy you, don’t you dare let him win.” Hearing only painfully weak whimpers Yugi internally cursed and snapped out at Seto, whom he could see was still standing uselessly beside them. “Get me a really cold cloth and glass of water…move dammit!”
“Ok…Ok…” Seto stammered, mentally slapping himself and growling at his uselessness. With speed and decent coordination he dodge around the three on the floor and went straight for the kitchen sink. Vaguely remembering where the cups and cloths were from helping Bakura do dishes, he frantically pulled them out and dunk them under the raging cold water. Satisfied, the cup sufficiently overflowing and the cloth beyond drenched he swung around and knelt down beside Yugi. “What do you need?”
“Put the cloth on the back of his neck, we’ll start with that,” tone authoritative, Yugi watched as Seto carefully did as told. Slipping his hand between Yami and Bakura he rested the sopping wet cloth against the bare skin at the nape of Yami’s neck. He nearly squealed with delight when Yami audibly inhaled in shock, but his delight was gone instantly, the cold seemed to ignite Yami’s strength. Bakura grunted in shock then clamped down, desperately holding a now violently squirming Yami from slipping away. Cursing loudly, Yugi snatched the glass from Seto and upended it over Yami’s head, re-drenching hair that was still semi-wet. He cursed again; all it did was increase Yami’s intensity. Having no drugs on hand he made a split second decision. With a sigh, and a slightly resigned look, he cracked Yami across the back of the jaw.
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Exposed Shadows