• 1-Revenge Against All Odds

Hicky: Well, hello
all! You may have clicked on this just
to see if I had wrote the pairing right in the summary. Yes, it is a Seto/Celtic, but not in a
romance-y-dancy way.

Trent: And just when
I thought I was starting to be a good writers block. Damn you, Hicky, finishing your little one
shot.

Hicky: Well, luckily
I DID get it done… with about 30 mins to cut off. And this is a one shot, so there will NOT be more chapters. Anyway, lezsee… I do NOT own Yu-Gi-Oh, and
even if I did, I would NOT make this ever happen.

WARNINGS:

• Celtic
  is is VERY OOC from my other fic, so don’t come into this thinking, ‘yay,
  sweet, loving Celtic from LoTC + LotC2!’ cause he damn well ain’t like
  that.

• Sadism/Torture/Blood/Pain/Rape
  (And NOT the Chaos/Celtic kind either, for those who read LotC)

• Mokuba
  is present in the fic, so if you don’t like bad things happening to little
  kids… *waves hands* shoo.

Hicky: Well, if you
STILL want to read this/have to cause you’re a judge… ENJOY!

Revenge Against All Odds

__

 
>

The Celtic Guardian stood on one side of the castle tower,
facing what was thought to be the most fearsome creature in all existence, and
his melting Blue Eyes Ultimate Dragon standing before him. The elven warrior raised his sword and
charged, slicing down through the neck of the Blue Eyes and watching with a
sadistic smirk as the head dropped to the ground in a sickly, slopping
thud.yes"> To bad Yami was the one dueling.

But Yami, being the great strategist he was, did not fall
for Seto's ploy and ordered the Celtic Guardian to destroy another Blue Eyes
head. The warrior charged, already
feeling the glory of winning coursing through his veins. Every monster would adore him. Him: the warrior that took down a Blue Eyes
Ultimate Dragon. Of course credit would
be given to Mammoth but really, he'd be the star, he'd be loved, and even
imagining it made him feel a hundred times better... and then, that sound, that
small, desperate voice of his little master, "no, stop!" And so he did, dropping the tip of this
sword to the ground as he came to a complete stop. His>His eyes widened in shock aookeooked down at the stones beneath
his feet. Ears twitched as Seto
commanded his revived Blue Eyes head to attack the elf. Celtic was engulfed in the white lightning
attack, and with it, all his hope.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*deet*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back in the Shadow Realm Celtic stood stunned. In his hand he held his broad sword, tip
resting pathetically in the dirt. Heyeseyes stared out blankly into the graveyard, lifeless, hopeless, with no glimmer
left of his happy elven spirit.

He had lost the duel, he alone. It had been the difference
between his and the Blue Eyes' attack points.
It had been his destruction that had ended the battle. It had been his cowardly act of stopping his
attack that had brought defeat to his Masters.

The elf collapsed to his knees in shock, his blade clanging
to the hard ground. Celtic stared at it
for a long while; staring at it, past it, at and into nothing. He flinched when a soft hand rested on his
strong shoulder.

"Celtic," came the deep, rich voice of the
purple-clad spell-caster, "don't worry so. Everything will be fine."

"It was my fault," Celtic growled through tightly
clenched teeth. "It was my fault
we lost that duel."

"It wasn't your fault, friend. You cannot take so personally the duels of
today. We follow the orders and play by
the rules. We do not have a choice in
the matter."

"I was ordered to attack. I should have just kept up my charge and-"

"But you were also ordered to stop."

"Isn't one of today's rules that if an attack begins it
has to be carried through?" Celtic said bitterly, not expecting or wanting
an answer.

"Celtic, you did the right thing. You heard the distress in our young master's
voice. He did it to ensure Kaiba's
safety. You know that. Please, just forget about today. There will be far more duels in the
future." The mage turned, dropping
his hand from the elf's shoulder, and left.

"Kaiba..." Celtic whispered cruelly to himself,
"you will pay."

The elf lifted a knee, foot placed firmly on the deep green
soil, sweeping his arm down to take hold of the hilt of his sword, and
sheathing it in the same, fluid, motion.
The stinging sound of metal against leather echoed through the warrior's
plotting mind. He rose to his feet, in
a slow, steady manner, almost reverberating the cynical intent coursing through
his mind and through his veins.

Several timid monsters moved off to the sides as he strode
into the card mansion with all the dominance of a lioness, fresh back from the
kill. His eyes burned with rage, every
muscle ached with need for revenge.

Celtic stepped into his room and slammed his door shut, the
sound of it echoing off the walls of the mansion and up stairwells. He stripped out of his armor as he began to
pace, wanting the sweet seclusion of his room, but far to restless to settle in
it. What could be done, what could he do? There was no way to get his revenge on the
tall Kaiba brother. They were in two
very different worlds...

"I could," Celtic thought aloud, "just jump
off a duel stadium sometime... but I couldn't bear to face the pharaoh's wrath
after a stunt like that. But what- what
else can I do?" He continued to
move about his room, sometimes stopping to sit in a chair, on his couch, but
only for a moment or two before he was walking again.

'Oh how he would pay, if only I could get to him,'
Celtic thought to himself. 'I would
show him such humility, such that he would never forget. I would defeat him in everyway I can.' More pacing as the words flowed through his
mind, and down to the ever growing smirk on his lips.

'How much pain can a mortal man endure before he cries
out?' Celtic mused. 'How many
times will he scream before he can no longer hold back tears?' The smirk grew. 'Oh what ways of torture could I bring to him? So many to pick from, so many my hands know
so well.'

Celtic threw himself upon his bed with a cruel laugh filling
the room. His fingers tightened into
his forest green blanket as he pulled it around him in a fit of a madman's
glee. "How many times can you
cut their skin, how many ways can you make them bleed. How many times can you lash and whip, how
many ways can you make them bruise.
Bruise and bleed and cry and plead for mercy you won't get from me!" Celtic sang the words of the old song; known
to few, feared by many, and his eyes were shut, and his lips were smiling, as
if he was dwelling on some past memory or a hopeful future.

It was in this fit of insane ramblings that the elf fell
asleep, curled in his dark green blankets and cream lime sheets, and to those
unknowing, looked almost... innocent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*deet*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was only a few hours later that Celtic woke with a start,
sitting up in bed like an alarmed child and peering around his room. Something was off, just slightly not right
in the Shadow Realm, but he couldn't quite place it.

The elf swung his legs over the side of his bed, stood and
peered around his room for his earlier discarded armor. He stepped over to it and placed it back
where it belonged; adorning his strong body.
One final adjustment and he stepped out of his room and into the hall. A look to the left, to the right, and then
he started toward the heavy front doors.

Outside several other monsters had gathered, all having
noticed the same oddity in the Shadow Realm.
Dark Magician was leaning back against a large tomb stone; almost waiting
to tell the others what was going on, Mystical Elf sat quite contently on a
headstone near the purple-clad mage; she too seemed to know what exactly was
happening, others were exiting the house, seeking answers.

Everyone stood quietly, waiting for one of the two
spell-casters to speak, but neither seemed inclined to do so.

"Well?" Celtic asked, "Are you going to tell
us what this disturbance is, or just sit there and look pretty?"

Mystical Elf lifted her head a moment then went back to
inspecting her fingers. Dark Magician
looked to Celtic and frowned slightly.
"I wished to wait for all to come before I spoke of the
situation."

"If they cared that would be here already. Tell those of us with interest."

"As you wish."
He made a hand motion to Mystical Elf, speaking to his audience. "Misty and I have discussed the
peculiar occurrence in the Shadow Realm, and have put our powers together to
determine what exactly it is. It seems
that a mortal has been sent to this realm via a Millennium Item."

Celtic's ears twitched and his intrigue grew at the mention
of this mortal. "Who? What mortal is it?" Celtic asked; words hurried slightly out of
impatience.

A slender purple brow lifted at Celtic's question. "His name..." Dark began, looking
to Mystical Elf then back at Celtic, "... is unimportant. He will be found by his monsters, I am
sure."

Mystical Elf giggled gently. "It's Seto Kaiba. It
doesn't matter if we tell or not.
Stupid mortal trapped in our world.
Hope he doesn't get lost.
Well," she got up and straightened out her dress, "that's
it. We told them what's going
on." And with that she headed back
to the mansion in her long, graceful strides.

Dark sighed heavily.
"I hope we have been useful in curing your curiosity." He pushed off the stone and left the others
to their business.

Celtic had stayed quiet until the mages had left, then burst
out into maniacal laughter. Surrounding
monsters edged a few steps away from the elf, slightly worried but also use to
such outbursts from him. Celtic
crouched and checked his boots, and as he rose checked over the rest of his
clothes and armor. He smirked wickedly
at nothing in particular, the walked out into the fog-covered darkness of the
graveyard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*deet*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seto's eyes moved under closed lids until they finally
managed to open. He blinked a few
times, looking down to see he was sprawled on green dirt, his trench coat all
about.

Seto raised a hand to his forehead, grunting lowly at his
tremendous, yet subsiding headache. He
raised his head a bit, looking around at the crumbling tombstones, mounds of
earth and heavy crosses about him.
"A graveyard?" He
asked quietly, teeth clenching as he dragged his sore body into a sitting
position. "The last thing I remember
was Pegasus, dueling, that crazed Bickuribox of his... how... this? I don't understand- Mokuba! I have to save Mokuba!"

The brunet shoved himself off the statue and staggered
forward several steps before gaining control of his body's movement. He lifted his head once more to survey his
surroundings. He had no idea where he
was let alone what way he should go in search of his little brother.

He cringed at the thought of stepping into something without
having analyzed the stuffing out of it, but there was nothing else he could
do. Hands went quickly to straighten
out his blue trench before he headed off in a random direction.

Seto sidestepped and dodged shadowy figures and wisps of
smoke that seemed to resemble human and animal shapes. He cursed himself for being startled by
nothing, for little did he know what those shadows and smoke really were. Every so often, out of the corner of his
eye, Kaiba would catch a glimpse of a man or woman, but as soon as he turned to
look at them more closely they seemed to have vanished.

Other times large dragons and other beasts seemed to be
peering at him through the thick of the graveyard smog. Seto was getting unnerved. This was like some really bad slasher movie,
but he had never had the chance to stupidly decide to go into the graveyard; he
woke up in it.

Seto looked down at some of the tombstones. They were nameless, crumbling rock and
nothing more, not even a sign that a name was ever upon it, yet, the earth was
still raised in a heap before them. The
CEO brought a hand to his forehead again, hoping for a hundredth times that he
was just having a bad dream, and for the hundredth time he looked up and
nothing had changed.

"I'll never find Mokuba this way. I don't know this place. Where am I?" Seto's nose crinkled in
disgust at his next statement. "I
need help..." One more futile search of the area, another circle of
undistinguishable figures and shapes.
But, this time there was one that didn't disappear like the others had
before. The dark silhouette moved
closer. 'Someone came... to help
me?'

He struggled to his feet, stumbling and falling against a
stone angel. Seto grabbed onto its cold
hand and steadied himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*deet*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Celtic could feel the mortal energy, even at its great
distance. It was so different from
anything in the Shadow Realm. It was so
alive and vibrant, so short and fleeting, so undeniably mortal. He followed the energy, contemplating what
force was drawing the young man, for he was not headed in any useful direction.

His monsters lived far off to the South-West and Kaiba was
wandering aimlessly North. He couldn't
know that he was treading toward the mansion of his rival's monsters, but
still, what made him walk that way.
Celtic was curious.

The elf strode through the graveyard, fog leaping up around
the fall of his heavy boots and curling around his legs in ghostly
embraces. Dark shadows shot by his
sides, up near his head, so fast that his green-blonde hair shifted to
momentarily follow their flight.

Celtic smirked, ears twitching slightly as the young man he
pursued made his way nearer. Little did
the millionaire know that he was walking right into the hands of his worst
nightmare. The warrior tilted his head
to the side as a particularly friendly shadow flew against his cheek.

Closer, closer, closer he came to the unknowing
brunette. He could almost smell him on
the cold breeze. The elf calmed himself
for the encounter, not wanting to spoil his fun before it even began. There he was. Elven eyes easily saw through the smoke, fog, and darkness,
making out every detail: brown hair, blue, blue eyes, tall, very, and a long
billowing trench coat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*deet*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The figure moved closer, became clearer. It was clear that it was a man, strong, with
broad powerful shoulders and armor sitting atop them. There were two curved pieces of, what Seto took to be metal, for
they would glint silver every so often.
Those seemed familiar.

The figure seemed to come into some dusk-like light. Perhaps the sun had made its way out from
behind the clouds, just a little. But,
then again, Seto didn't know that the Shadow Realm consisted of shifting light
and no sun at all. Thin brown clung
tightly to a muscled form; cream pants, comfortably loose but effective for
battle; silver and green armor, trinkets hanging from the breastplate and a
deep purple cape from the back. At his
left side hung a large sheath with sword hilt firmly where it belonged.

Seto stopped all movement, probably only twenty feet from
the approaching figure. He had played
enough duel monsters to know who was coming his way. 'No, what am I thinking.
It's all some joke. Someone's
dressed up to try and fool me. How dare
they!' The CEO returned from his
thoughts to be only a few feet from the man.

Purple tattoos adorned either side of the warriors cheeks,
long pointed ears held the helmet in place, muscled moved as his body did, face
was calm save for his eyes; his orange feline-like eyes, so unnatural, so
unnerving, so predatory, and still moving closer, until they, along with the
elf, were less than a foot from the brunette.

Seto took an involuntary step back at the look he caught in
the warrior's eyes. It was more the
look of some mythical man-killing beast than that of the ethereal being he
truly was. His prior beliefs of a
costumed kidder were quickly disappearing.

Celtic's lips curled away from his teeth in a delighted grin
as Seto moved away from him. How fun to
intimidate those that thought they were so powerful, could do so much and could
never have hurt or humility touch them.
No man was safe from either.

The blue-eyed teen collected himself and stood tall. He was taller than the warrior, there was no
doubt, but under those eyes, Seto felt more like he was as tall as Yugi. Everything was quiet, so quiet that the
shadows could be heard and the fog sounded like a river rushing over the dark
soil. Kaiba expected the warrior to
make some grunting noise, such as those made in a duel, but instead came a
deep, powerful voice.

"Seto Kaiba."
It wasn't a question, for sure, but not even a recognition. It was as if the strong elf was telling
Kaiba who he was.

Seto nodded as a child would to a teacher, when they didn't
know the answer to the question.
"C-C-Celtic Guardian?" the brunette stumbled, his mind arguing
over the ludicrousness of asking such a thing and the knowledge of knowing it
could be no one else.

Celtic's grin grew greater.
"Hmmm, yes, and more than that." He let the confusion of the statement register on the CEO's face
before continuing. "Yugi's.
Celtic. Guardian."

His blood seemed to run cold at those words, but for the
life of him, Kaiba could not determine why such a thing would occur. Memories of a duel, only hours behind him
flashed through his mind. Seto began to
speak before he began to think.
"The Celtic Guardian I destro-"

"That your dragon destroyed," Celtic spat. "You could never destroy me,
Kaiba." He snarled, sharp fangs
glinting as did the horns atop his helmet.
The warrior stepped forward as the teen moved back again. "Do I frighten you?" he asked, a
slight lift in his voice on certain words.

Kaiba swallowed hard but shook his head, not able to find
his voice to solidify the statement. He
wasn't sure whether he was afraid or not.
On one hand he was Seto Kaiba, powerful CEO of Kaiba Corp, but on the
other he was being eyed very dangerously by a "man" that could snap
him in two by the time he said 'White Lightning Attack'.

Celtic took a loose hold of Seto's wrist, giving a slight
tug and turning to walk back home.
"Come with me, Seto. I'll
take care of you."

Kaiba wrenched his wrist away, not at all liking the tone in
the warrior’s voice.yes"> Now, since Seto had been so opposed to gentle persuasion, the
warrior decided to step it up a notch.
"Come with me." He
said, taking Kaiba's wrist once more and giving a firm pull.

Seto stumbled forward at the sudden jerk, but regain his
balance and began to struggle. The
sound of Celtic's chuckling sent shivers down his spine and he tried harder to
free himself.

"You're beginning to annoy me," the elf stated as
he reached for his sword with his off-hand (1), drawing it and shifting it so
he held it level with the teen's throat.
The hilt was close to Kaiba's face, the blade off to the boy's left
(2).

Blue eyes opened wide as the blade found its place in mere
seconds. He eyed the brown, worn hilt,
the glinting, stained blade, but that was all he could note before the hilt
moved, came in contact with the side of his head, and everything went black.

Celtic smirked as the tall brunette's body went limp and
fell. He lifted one strong arm to catch
the falling boy, tossing him over his armored shoulder and turning for home.

As the two made their way through the graveyard the
skittering creatures dispersed. Celtic
gave off an aura of maliciousness that frightened even the darkest of
bloodthirsty monsters.

Seto hung silently over the elf, his mind black,
unthinking. He couldn't even think of
what might happen to him, or what had for that matter. For once in his life, Seto Kaiba was
completely at the mercy, or lack there of, of another.

The trip back seemed much shorter now that he had his prize,
his mind racing with his various schemes of torture. In no time the mansion could be seen through the fog, and minutes
later the warrior entered with his catch.

"Celtic, what are you-," the Dark Magician began,
then recognized the body hung over the warrior's shoulder. "What are you doing with him?!"
The spell-caster's voice had risen from it normal calm tone to one of
shock. Anyone could guess what Celtic
might do to a young man, whether said man was willing or not.

"Ahh," the green-blonde sighed an acknowledgement
to the mage that always seemed to be around.
"Whaaaaaat?" he drawled out the words, "jeeaalous?"
He smirked again as Dark's face contorted slightly. "I'll play with you again, mage, eventually." With that the elf turned to his room,
opening the door and disappearing inside.

"No, no that's not what I- Celtic! Celtic!!" Dark pounded his fists on the
door.

Inside the room Celtic could hear the mage growing ever more
annoying as time passed. He slipped
over to his bed and dropped the brunette upon it before heading back to the
door.

"You can't!
Celtic you can't do it to him! You-" Instead of his fists
hitting hard wood they were stopped by firm fingers wrapped around his slender
wrists. He cringed as the fingers
tightened until his wrists throbbed.
"You... can't..."

"I can do whatever I like, mage," Celtic spat as
he threw the Dark Magician back into the wall opposite his room. "Now go and leave me be."

Dark groaned and pulled his knees up to his chest. He looked up, across the hall, to the
warrior. Trembling blue met flaming
orange, with no sympathy, unmoved by anything they saw. The mage's eyes dropped, defeated before he
disappeared in a puff of soft, purple smoke.

Celtic leaned against his doorframe with momentary
satisfaction, then turned around and re-entered his room. He stepped over to the sprawled form of the
young CEO and looked him over. His ears
twitched as the boy's lips moved and one near silent word escaped them. "Who's Mokuba?" Celtic asked practically pouncing over his
prey.

The boy didn't move, even with the added weight. He was still completely unconscious.

"Who's Mokuba?!" Celtic asked again, louder this
time, as if he actually expected an answer.
He slid back up to his feet and smoothed down his clothes. "Mokuba? Mokuba?" he repeated to himself as he paced the room.

Suddenly Celtic stopped, standing completely still before
turning slowly to the brunette on his bed, grinning evilly, eye aglint. “Yooour brother?” he giggled like a
madman. He had recalled Yami speaking
of this Mokuba before and, now that he thought about it, there was the vibe of
another mortal or two in his world.

“Oh Kaiba, I hate to leave you here, but I have to go on
another little search.” The warrior
stepped off to a dresser, opening a drawer and withdrawing several lengths of
thin, tough rope. “Buuut,” Celtic began
as he moved back to the mortal boy, “I can’t have you escaping on me, as much
as I do enjoy a good game of ‘cat and mouse’.”

He raised the CEO’s hands above his head, tying them back, looping
the rope through the holes in the headboard, cut out for this exact
purpose. Celtic left his feet free, for
it was always more interesting to see how they would end up, after struggling
and struggling, if they were allowed some room to move. After one more check of his knots he rose
and left the room, coiling the extra rope around his shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*deet*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seto groaned as he slipped back into consciousness, eyes
shut tightly, only now registering the throbbing pain. He instinctively went to touch the side of
his head, but found his hand restrained.
He attempted to move the other, having no better luck.

His brow knit with confusion and he finally opened his eyes,
blinking several times as the light of the room momentarily blinded him. He looked up at the ceiling which was most
certainly not his own. Eyes traveled
across the forest green ceiling onto the matching wall, arms giving a tug on the
ropes.

Seto shifted his hand slightly, fingers reaching down to run
across the smooth coils of his bound wrists.
Another tug, this time trying to part his wrists. His luck held… he wasn’t having any. The rope was tight enough and strong enough
to make sure there was no escaping.

Keeping to his calm nature he continued to look about the
room, over the wall decorated with various swords, shields, daggers… whips…
straps and- Seto gulpedher her such “equipment”. Things were starting to look bad. {~Hicky: *snorts* Well, this
IS Seto Kaiba.~}

The bound boy pulled one knee up; slightly surprised it was
not tied to the foot of the bed, and rested his foot on the mattress. He turned his head off to the other side of
the room, eyes falling on a dark figure near the opposite wall.

“You aren’t very entertaining,” Celtic said, immerging from
the shadows. He was dressed differently
now, no longer in his armor. Instead he
wore a creamy shirt, with long, loose sleeves.
The front had a lace up part that reached down to just below his chest,
but the ties were left to hang. His
pants were tight, or reasonably so, and deep brown. His eyes were alight with new mischief.

Seto was still confused by earlier happens and even more so
by the fact that Celtic now looked much more human than monster. The only things that gave him away were his
feline eyes and his long, pointed ears.

“I was expecting at least some struggle. What, no urge to escape?” Cel>Celtic smirked down at the boy.

“Stuggle would have been useless. My hands are tied too securely for escape to have been an
option.”

“Oh, so much thinking.”

“Ever the analyzer,” Seto spoke calmly, keeping his cool as
he took in Celtic’s body language and the tone of his voice. “Why have you brought me here?”

“You don’t get to ask questions. Now, be a good boy and say hello to our ‘guest’.” Celtic took one sweeping step to the side,
revealing the tied and gagged child behind him.

“Mokuba!!” Seto’s
eyes widened considerably. “Let him
go!”

“Um,” Celtic tapped his chin, “no.”

Mokuba’s eye quivered with fright and the hope he had at the
sight of his brother. He tried to move
toward the taller boy but Celtic knocked him back with his foot. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, as he was
tied to the wall.

“Don’t touch him!”
Seto pulled hard at his restraints, finding a reason for freedom.

“Uh-uh-uh,” Celtic warned, waving a finger back and
forth. He took a few steps nearer to
the, now struggling, boy.yes"> “Truthful and trustworthy?” Two more nods. “Will he save you?”

Mokuba looked around the warrior, to his brother, and gave
another, weaker, nod.

“Oh, you stupid little creature.” Celtic grabbed a fistful of Seto’s hair and yanked up on it. “This?
This being is strong and fair?
Oh, just you wait and see!” And
with that he flung Seto back down onto the mattress and pillows.

Bright orange eyes skimmed across the “decorated” walls
until finally coming to rest on a glinting blade, about six inches long,
another four of hilt. Celtic walked
over and removed said weapon from the wall, tossing it up and catching it,
testing its weight. He made his way
back to the bed, taking a big step up onto the mattress and stood over the
brunette.

Seto grinned and thrust his leg up. His partially formed smirk fell into an
expression of shock as Celtic’s hand wrapped around his ankle just before it
would have made contact with his groin.

Celtic stepped completely to the other side of the Kaiba
boy, making sure Mokuba could see everything, and dropped to his knees. His fingers moved over the blade of the
dagger, smirking down at his prey. He
took hold of the hilt and with a flick of his wrist there was a cut across the
tight, black material of Seto’s shirt.

The elf grinned as the body beneath him sucked in a
breath. He took another sweep with his
knife, cutting the shirt all the way to the high neckline. Celtic twisted the dagger in his hand to run
the cold edge against Seto’s neck.

Kaiba tried to pull away which only resulted in his neck
stretching to look even more inviting to the maniacal warrior. He cringed as Celtic flipped the blade over
again to run across his skin. Then,
blue eyes widened at a stinging pain on his chest. It didn’t take all those genius brain cells of his to know that
he had finally been cut.

Mokuba squirmed helplessly by the opposite wall as he
watched his poor brother. His eyes
shook with tears that begged to fall when he saw the little trickle of red
slowly making its way down the older boy’s chest.

Celtic lazily straightened from his hunched posture over
Seto and played with the blade about his fingers, keeping them hovering above
the boy’s body. “You should be glad I’m
so good with my weapons, Kaiba. Would
be a shame if I were to drop-” and with that word finished Celtic let the
dagger fall.

Seto sucked in a breath as he watched the knife that
painfully seemed to fall through the air in slow motion. His heart raced, blood pumped through his
body so hard he could hear the “lub-dublub-dublub-dub” of it pounding in his
ears. But just as the point was about
to penetrate the skin above his heart, Celtic’s hand swept in and grabbed the
hilt. The brunette let out a long,
breath, cursing at everything; Celtic, this circumstance, his own stupidity
that he could even think the sadist beside him would just kill him so easily.

The elf grinned happily as the almost silent words drifted
into his ears. “Such language,
Kaiba.” He flicked the tip of the
dagger across Seto’s skin again, just under the first cut, smearing the drying
blood.

Seto’s eyes shut tightly a moment. The bastard elf was purposely waiting between each cut he
made. He wasn’t going to let the
mortal’s body learn to adapt to the pain and subdue it. He knew what he was doing. “You fucking bastard.”

“Oh there you go again,” Celtic cautioned as he leaned down
and made a long, deeper cut from Seto’s collarbone, across his unmarked
pectoral, stopping just under it.

The brunette let out a choked cry, refusing to even let his
eyes water, but unable to keep the sounds from escaping his throat. “Uhha…..uuuhha…” More blood flowed out onto
his chest, down over his stomach and dribbled off his sides onto his pulled
back shirt.

“You’re so pathetic,” Celtic whispered cruelly into
the brunette’s ear.

Cool blue eyes focused on Celtic’s long ear in front of his
face, recalling the way he touched it so gently when explaining what Mokuba had
done. In a quick and stupid action Seto
moved up as best he could and bit down on the elf’s overly sensitive ear.

Celtic yelled out in shock and incredible pain, dropping the
dagger off the side of the bed. One
hand went to his ear, the other to pry Seto’s mouth from it. He held a palm to the boy’s forehead one
he
had succeeded in pushing him back down, the other touched to his ear before
pulling away. His eyes lit on fire when
he saw his own blood on his fingers.
“You little cock sucking piece of shit!”

The warrior glared down at his prey, bearing perfect, white
teeth, and more noticeably, two very sharp, canines. “Tit for tat you little fucker,” Celtic stated before pushing
Seto’s face to the side and biting into his neck hard.

Seto struggled against the ropes about his wrists, against
the hand on his head. He tried to kick,
but Celtic’s lower leg firmly held down his thighs. He tried desperately to pull away from his captor’s mouth, with
no success. He screamed, succumbing to
the pain, unable to bottle it up inside any longer.

After soaking in the sound of Seto’s cry, Celtic eased off
and drew away from the bleeding boy.
“You should feel lucky, Kaiba, that I remember you actually have vital
organs and,” Celtic stroked down the brunette’s neck, “arteries.”

Blue eyes stayed shut tight, his breath coming shallow, his
throat slightly sore from the magnitude of his screaming. He felt the elf move off the bed just enough
to get something, the dagger, most likely.
Then he was back, and hovering above him. Seto could feel his breath on his skin. The sound of cutting through thick material registered in one
ear, then in the other, and before he knew it, his trench was pulled out from
under him. ‘He… cut my trench coat?!’ Seto thought angrily… then thought
about checking his order of priorities.

Celtic moved off the bed, turned, and shoved Seto over and
onto his stomach. He headed back to the
wall of assorted “goodies” after placing his beloved dagger down on a small
square table, so it could be cleaned later.
He made a move to take an item, then seemed to think better of it and
withdrew his hand back to his side.
Eventually he found just the item he wanted. It was very special to him indeed, and had been with him for as
long as he could remember, and probably even before that.

He came back to stand by the bed, a simple three-tailed,
split-whip (3) in his hands. It was
plain, brown, short. Nothing fancy, but
fancy wasn’t what Celtic was about; he was about pain. And this little gem, so to speak, did the
trick, with its very thin fails that so easily dug deep into the flesh.

Seto’s back tightened as Celtic merely sweep his whip back
and forth a few times,owinowing the mortal to imagine what would happen before
he made those thoughts come true, and then added to them.

The elf held the tails of the whip above Kaiba’s back, and let
them go. Not so much as a gentle tap
was heard, and this was by the ears of the sadistic torturer. One more time with the dropping, watching as
Seto’s muscles tightened each time. Oh,
to taunt and tease.

Seto’s eyes shot open when the next move was not quite so
teasing, and far, far more searing.
Pain shot through every nerve in his body, jumping synapses faster than
Mexican jumping beads on Speed. Three
thin, long marks stung terribly until they were joined by three more,
perpendicular to the first.

Hoarse, pleading, begging screams escaped the brunette’s
lips. They cracked, and gasped and
sputtered. Words attempted to escape,
were held back, tried again. Another
scream,

this time far more broken.

Celtic knew that sound well. The boy had begun to cry, and with so little to prompt him to
such extent. And that “poor” child who
had been weeping, practically since the very beginning, for his dear brother,
huddled in the corner.

“Kaiba, answer me these questions and this part will end all
the faster,” Celtic said, teasing the flails over the boy’s stinging back. “Do you give respect to your monsters or
yourself?”

“My… myself,” Seto choked out and screamed again as his back
was lashed.

“Never again. Are
you above the rules, Kaiba? In your own
mind?”

“Yes…” Seto weakly made out the single word. He choked back a sob as those three strips
of leather seemed to cut to his very soul(4).

“Would you cheat, disgrace your honor, and lie, if the
outcome would benefit you?” Celtic
snarled through this question.

“I would- AHHH!” He
was cut off even before he could finish.
The strike was harder, placed over the small of his back. Celtic had true purpose behind that
question. “And I have…” Seto whispered
as more tears fell.

Celtic ran the bloodied flails through his fingers, griping
the end, pulling them back and letting them fly from his clutch, licking at
Seto’s still clothed ass. Celtic’s ears
perked at the pained groan escaping the boy’s throat. “Now, Kaiba… you have proved to be entertaining enough for me to
allow you one benefit. Your little
brother will not be witness to your next punishment.”

The elf turned and stepped slowly toward Mokuba. The small child backed away as far as he
could, cowering before the powerful, evil warrior. His startled, scared cry was cut short as his little body dropped
forward onto the floor.

“What did you-!?” Seto cried, his head jerking to face the
direction of his brothers voice. He
noticed the way Celtic held the whip, and har hard, rounded end of the
hilt. He must have knocked out the
long, black-haired boy the way he had knocked Seto himself out earlier. At least he could benkfunkful his brother
was alive. His body still rose and fell
with gentle breaths.

“Now now, Kaiba.
Don’t you worry about him. He
won’t wake up for quite a bit.” Celtic
dropped the whip over top of Mokuba and walked back over to the bed. He crawled up and straddled Seto’s thighs,
reaching his arms around the boy’s body to undo his pants.

Seto’s breach hitched.
He wanted to scream out protests but what was the point? His throat ached and no matter what he said,
Celtic would not give into him. He
opened his mouth but stopped himself from speaking just in time. We couldn’t even imagine the pleasure Celtic
would get out of the situation should he find out the truth about the
brunette’s sex life… or should we say, lack there of (5).

Celtic gave one firm tug and left the young CEO very naked
and very vulnerable. His goal was
simple, and driven purely on the basis of dominance, rather than any sexual
lust, or desire for the moral youth.
This was just one more way to show Kaiba how inferior he truly was to
others. The warrior undid his deep brown-colored
pants and pushed them down to his knees.
There was no need to take off anymore of his own clothing, and really,
he didn’t want to touch the boy more than he absolutely had to.

Fiery orange eyes danced over the red lashes on Seto’s back,
the pink of the skin surrounding the cuts, and the blood running over his
body. His ears twitched excitedly as he
recalled the pained cries and tear filled screams. He had indeed had enough sensory input, of what he enjoyed, to
have made him plenty hard enough to perform his next task.

The teenager buried his face deep into the pillows as large,
powerful hands wrapped firmly around his waist. Once again, only several of those neurons in that super-genius
brain of his had to fire to comprehend the next minutes of his life.

Without any warning, Celtic thrust deep and hard into the
boy. Seto’s pleading, agonizing scream
barely seemed to be muffled by the pillows.
His throat tore and he coughed hoarsely.

Celtic didn’t even wait a second for the brunette to adjust
to his considerable invasion. He just
pulled out fast and drove in again, even harder than before. He could feel the slickness surrounding him,
which he knew well to be the boy’s own blood.

Seto sobbed into the pillows, drenching them with tears of
pain, of sadness, of regret; all these tears combing together as Celtic relentlessly
pounded into his cut, whipped, beaten body.
He doubted if he would even make it through to the next day, in fact he
wished he could die right now. How had
everything turned so awful so quickly?

Celtic drug his nails into the youth’s waist, pulling back
and leaving even more bloody trails through his once flawless skin. He laughed cruelly, leaning over to speak to
the weeping boy. “Kaiba, you’re so tight. I’d think you were a virgin

Eventually it all became too much. What had happened kept running through his mind. What was happening right then never went
away, and curse his imagination for even thinking of what other tortures the
elf might do to him. Seto broke;
everything in him felt as if it had shattered and could never again be healed. He tried to block it out, make it go away,
anything to make it less… ahen,hen, he passed out, just before Celtic filled
him with his seed.

The warrior pulled away, pushing fingers through, only
slightly, mussed hair. He leaned over
and picked up the tattered remains of Kaiba’s shirt to clean himself off a bit
before pulling his pants back up.

&;

Celtic got to his feet and looked back at the young,
helpless teen. He worked the knotted
rope off the headboard but made sure Seto’s wrists were still bound. He hefted the boy up and over his shoulder
and then exited his room.

A short trek through the dark, misty graveyard refreshed
Celtic and made him feel even better.
He stopped at the exact place he had met with Kaiba only just that
mog.

Then he turned and went back to his home, leaving Seto lying
on the ground, unconscious, bloodied, weak, used, beaten, exposed and easy prey
for anyone and anything else that should find him.

…

…

…

Seto lay on the ground, in the same position he had dropped
there in. He didn’t move, not to cover
himself, shield himself, or attempt to gain any warmth from curling up.

“S…t….?” a voice asked warily, confused.

Seto’s eyes shifted under closed lids. His arms and legs twitched slightly as if
coming back from death. He drew in a
deep breath as if it had been the first he’d taken in hours.

“Seth? My
Priest?(6)” The voice was closer,
surer, worried now.

The youth felt his body being raised up by strong, warm arms,
one encircling his shoulders, the other across his stomach to hold gently to
his side. He cracked his eyes open just
enough to make out a blurred form: red skin, long, pointed ears, green, green
eyes, long, beautiful blonde hair… and a very stylish purple tux…

… then, he blacked out again…