Chapter 17: Devil in the Details

Seto wanted another shower. His guard had called from the airport to let him know Aizawa had made it through security; after that, he was on his own. He made a series of phone calls regarding his traitorous employees and a dry cappuccino. He'd tracked a disturbingly extensive network, connecting what he'd already known to the information about the Yakuza Aizawa had provided. To his dismay, he'd found out that the Puppy's Paradise was suspected to be another business paying off the Yamaguchi-gumi to keep the gangsters out of its establishment, but with Werenko out there and Katsuya working tonight, it smelled like a too-convenient way to stage a disappearing act. He was fairly certain they wouldn't try to take him before then; if he missed his shift at the club, it would be noted. The alert would go out much sooner than it would if he vanished after, when most decent people were sleeping and his father wouldn't notice his absence until the morning. Plenty of time for them to-

Looking at his wristwatch, he pressed a button on its face that cycled through its functions until it settled on the tracking device on Katsuya's panic button. There was no reading. It had shown him in his apartment thirty minutes ago, when he'd last checked. It was 7:45 PM. Maybe he'd been wrong, and Werenko had decided not to wait. He cycled to Mokuba's tracking device; it showed him here in the house, but the location was imprecise, indicating that the short-distance system was operating but the satellite wasn't. He pulled out his cell, but there was no signal.

Alarmed, he decided to head to Katsuya's to make sure he was safe. He scowled. I should have brought him here after what happened. Why did I think that button would be enough to protect him? He took the stairs two at a time. "Mokuba," he called, "I'm going out. Don't answer the door or go anywhere until I get back."

He waited, but there was no answer. "Mokuba?" Silence.

He tore back down the hall and opened his brother's bedroom door to see the room was empty, but that the tacking bracelet he was never, ever supposed to take off was atop his still-made bed. "Mokuba!" he yelled, angry and terrified, flinging open every door, running down the stairs, finding no trace of his brother. "MOKUBA!" he screamed.

He hit the intercom. "Security! Why was I not informed that my brother didn't return home from school today?" he snarled. Nothing, not even static came from the speaker. "SECURITY?!" No response.

FUCK. Panic shortened his breath as he realized that he'd sent more than half of his security team to clean up Akira's network. There were less than ten men on duty at the moment, and his best and most trusted were not among them. He ran to the study and punched in the code to his gun cabinet, not even surprised when he found it empty.

Mai felt giddy with relief when she finally saw Katsuya come into view about two blocks up the street, his head lowered and dragging his feet a bit more than usual. She drew breath to call out to him, stepping forward to meet him, when she saw a big man (though still not as big as Big Tony) emerge from the dark and intercept him. Her relief vanished, and she started running toward him full tilt, sparing a backward glance at the bouncer. Unfortunately, he was dealing with the waiting crowd and didn't seem to have noticed. She slowed to a jog as it became apparent that the man was only speaking to Katsuya, and as yet hadn't produced any chloroform-soaked rag or blunt weapon to subdue him. After a few moments Katsuya started heading toward the club again with the big man in tow.

"Katsuya!" Mai crossed the rest of the short distance to meet him.

"Hey Mai," he said, smiling but still looking apprehensive. "That's nice of ya to come see me, but I'm not sure tonight's the night to catch my sweet moves," he said, with an attempt to chuckle that sounded more like a cough. Mai looked at the man next to Katsuya, an expressionless mask in a three-piece suit.

"New friend?" she said, attempting to sound casual despite her screaming instincts dumping what felt like gallons of epinephrine into her system.

"Oh, uh, I guess Seto sent 'im here to make sure nothing happens at the club tonight."

Mai's heart beat a little faster. "Why would something happen at the club tonight?" She had her doubts about this guy; not only was he way creepy, but Kaiba was way more likely to just abduct Katsuya himself if he didn't want anything to happen to him. She looked the "guard" over again and noticed his little finger on his left hand was missing from the second joint up. Yakuza, then, and one who'd pissed off his boss twice.

Katsuya chuckle-coughed again. "Long story." He caught Mai's eye and tried desperately to silently communicate that he was no less aware of the badness of the situation than she, but there was very little to be done in his present company. She nodded very, very slightly, and he casually eased his hand into his pocket and pressed the button.

"So! You stayin' for the show then, doll?" he chirped, starting toward the club again.

She fell in step with him, the creeper a few paces behind. "Yeah, I think so. What time are you on?"

"9:30, then 10, then last set at 11."

"Got it." She looked at him again, and made a decision. "I'll go catch up with Tony. Good l- er, break a leg. It's 'break a leg,' right?"

Katsuya laughed. "Yeah, this counts fer show biz, don't it?" He grinned, and only someone who knew him as well as Mai could have seen the strain behind it.

She strolled up to the front door, trying to maintain a casual air as she approached Tony. Depeche Mode was coming through the door of the club. Katsuya disappeared into the back entrance with the big guy she was 99% sure was a gangster, and this time Tony was paying attention. "Change of plans," she said, smiling tersely at his alarmed face.

"Who the hell was that?"

"That," she said, pulling out her cell phone, "was a small part of the bigger problem." She pressed a few buttons before bringing the phone to her ear. After a few moments she scowled. "Damnit. Straight to voicemail."

She ended the call and turned back to Tony. "Okay big guy, I've got two questions for you."

He looked at her with an ironic smile. "Yeah, I'm single. And I'm free Monday night."

She was surprised into laughing. "Noted. What time do you start letting people in?"

"9. Usually the line's around the block by 8:30."

"Hmm. Okay." She leaned in closer to avoid being overheard. "And how seriously do you think this club would take a bomb threat?"

He jerked away, looking at her like she was crazy. He looked back in the direction of the staff entrance and considered it a few moments before squaring his shoulders. Damn, this is some kinda woman, he thought. "I get the feeling I'm gonna find out."

Mokuba had been kidnapped ten times too many to not know what was what, so when the big dude had come through his bedroom door, he'd slid off his tracker bracelet behind his back and backed up to the edge of his bed, dropping it there and arranging his face into a look of confusion and fear. "Who are you?!" he shouted, like it mattered. It would be better if they didn't find it on him; they always either smashed it, which set off the alarm in Seto's watch and dispatched security to his location (too many of whom Mokuba had watched cut down in futile attempts to recover him), or, if the kidnappers were tech-savvy, they simply rerouted the signal or disabled it... and a botched attempt would, in turn, dispatch soon-to-be dead security. Either way, they got mad and tended to take it out on him.

Seto had been acting weird enough since that "employee" guy had shown up at the house, and a quick peek into his personal surveillance system showed that Jonouchi was now in possession of not only a tracker, but a panic button. He'd been waiting for the shit to hit the fan, and for the chance to see if his own gadgets would work. When the goon went to grab him, he reached into his vest pocket and withdrew a palm-sized, lightweight device and palmed it. As he was lifted into the air, he pressed his palm to the exposed flesh of the goon's neck. They both landed with a crash as the electric current snapped to life, and Mokuba counted to three to make sure the dose of barbiturate had come through the hollow needle in the center of his newest toy. Mokuba called it "The Shock Drop."

He lifted his hand from the assailant's neck and wriggled out from under him. He wasn't out yet, but his pathetic attempt to keep Mokuba from escaping evinced that he would be, soon enough. Three sets of pounding footsteps were coming up the stairs, and he heard another goon calling out to ask "what the fuck" the crashing sound had been. Mokuba scrambled onto his desk and lifted himself up onto the dresser, opening his hiding place in the ceiling. He climbed in and shut the panel as he heard the feet coming down the hall.

"Oh fuck, FUCK!"

"Keep it the fuck down, man, the brother's still at the other end of the house."

"Where the fuck'd he go?"

"Shit, Ken, get the fuck up! He kick you in the nads or something? Ken! KEN!"

"I SAID shut the fuck up. We're supposed to get in and out quiet, asshole."

"Ah go fuck yourself, house this big he won't hear anything... fuck, dude, he's not getting up, man."

"Do you smell that? What the fuck is that, burned hair?"

"No I don't fucking smell that. Come on Ken, GET UP!"

"Shit, man, let's get him out of the room and keep looking. He can't have gotten far."

Mokuba heard one of them go out into the hall, and then signal the all-clear. The remaining goons picked up Ken and left his room. When he heard their footsteps receding down the stairs, he pressed the intercom button he'd installed in his ceiling panic-room, and wasn't terribly surprised when nothing happened. He gingerly opened the panel and lowered himself down onto his dresser, shut it, and then dropped soundlessly to the carpeted ground. They hadn't even trashed his room.

I fucked this one up pretty good, didn't I? Seto sank to the floor, about to let the fear completely overwhelm him, when he heard the faint crackle from the intercom.

"Seto!" The voice on the intercom was oddly close, and when he pressed the button again there was nothing; it was still broken. It made Seto even angrier.

"Seto! Niisama, it's okay! I'm okay!"

Am I fucking losing it? "Oh come on, Niisama! Answer me!" He knew it wasn't coming from the intercom. It was coming from... his watch.

Sure enough, there was a voice transmission alert on its small, rectangular display. "Mokuba?"

"I took one of them down, but there were three more, and that's just the ones who came for me."

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, he decided not to ask when Mokuba had installed this extra function on his timepiece and held down the button to respond. "Are you in the raccoon hole?"

"I was. I'm in the comm tower now, trying to get it back online. They killed the network and the intercom power supply. They're blocking your cell too I think, but they'll need a jammer for that so when you find them you'll probably find the jammer. They even cut the hardline to the house phone, everything except low-hertz radio. Figured it was too low-tech for you, I guess."

Seto grinned, despite himself. "You're a pretty hardcore thirteen year old, you know that?"

"Wonder where I get that from? Go kick some ass, bro."

"I will. You fucking lock yourself in that tower."

"Gee thanks, hadn't thought of that."

He was so proud. "I'll get there as soon as I can. Good work, Mokuba."

"Good work? Seriously? That's all you got? Is this a board meeting?"

He snorted.

"You need a vacation, Seto."

His fear was gone now, replaced with exhilaration and deadly clarity. He headed toward the back of the house. No one had come into the house to confront him, so he figured they'd be posted at the exits, waiting to tail him to the club.

He slid open the shoji door to the dojo.

His face split in a wolfish grin. The idiots had left his katana.

Werenko was humming to himself as he deleted another voicemail from his psychiatrist. Incompetent pill pusher! I'm not stupid, I weaned myself off gradually, no need to be so damn pushy, he clearly just doesn't understand! The power I've unlocked within myself! His humming graduated to soft singing.

"Don't say you're happy, out there without me, I know you can't be, 'cause it's no goo-ood..."

He checked the mirror again, pleased with his reflection. It wouldn't be long now.

His cell phone chimed at him, the ringtone a music box tune from a Konami survival horror game, one of his favorites. "Helloo-oo?" he sing-songed into the receiver. The voice on the other end spoke for a few moments, and Werenko's face contorted with rage. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN HE'S GONE?"

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AN: For those of you I've kept waiting... there's not much I can say, other than that if you're still here, I'm very grateful. I know I've taken a ridiculously too-long time, but I swear, I mean to finish this. I'm not sure when, and I'm hesitant to sketch a timeline only to disappoint again, but the original promise stands: I WILL FINISH THIS STORY. 3 xoxo