Questions and Cameras
Sep. 14th, 2016 11:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Main Points:
Yugioh Paparazzi!Verse
Chapter Summary: Kaiba's trying to put the pieces together.
Word Count: 860
Rating: teen
Kaiba growls again. No sign of Shidehara, which was impossible. The man had been seen entering the restaurant. There’s even CCTV. So where could the man have possibly gone?
He’d had all the bodyguards vetted thoroughly. He’d delegated at first, and the last in the pool got a thorough search beyond what even a simple background check, even a high-level one by one of the most accredited of agencies, could expose. Shidehara had been the newest of the new hires, of course. He wasn’t going to put Mokuba in the hands of such a field-inexperienced bodyguard, and Seto had more fighting ability than Yugi, so the reliable Roland fit him better. Perhaps it had been a miscalculation, but there’s no point in wishing he’d made a different decision. It’s not going to change anything, after all. What he can focus on is the now, and right now, he feels powerless, and that is utterly unacceptable.
Shidehara wasn’t the type to run away, at least not without his charge. It would’ve helped if the Pharaoh was more clear with his memory and could accurately describe what he’d seen, but out of the Pharaoh’s various qualities, the ability to give a detailed account of the past wasn’t one of them. He’d just have to do what he could with the witness account he had.
The man wasn’t in the hospital. He’d already checked there, for every single person who even remotely answered to the bodyguard’s description. Same with the morgue.
The other witnesses (those in the restaurant) vaguely remembered the bodyguard accompanying the Pharaoh and that woman to the restaurant, but didn’t believe that he’d been there the whole time.
“So where is he??” Kaiba yells, smacking the desk in lieu of doing the same to his faithful computer and potentially breaking valuable equipment. True, he could easily have it replaced, but that would be more aggravation than he can stand. He needs answers, and he needs them now.
It’s as if the man up and vanished into thin air, which is patently ridiculous, and an illogical result he refuses to accept.
He turns to another monitor, begins playing the CCTV. He managed to get his hands on this data and erase it from all other systems. It’s a favor he hadn’t planned to bring up to the reporter woman—yet.
Her memory’s hazy, too, at least from what she told the police, which was, as a matter of fact, child’s play to find, since he’s been easily hacking in since he was a child. Even so, this is clearer. The task would be easier if there were more cameras around, but Domino was not as paranoid about security as other cities he could name.
He watches as the kidnappers throw a hysterical woman (yet another reason she’s gone down in his estimation) into the warehouse. Dime-a-dozen thugs. They don’t tell him anything he doesn’t know.
He is particularly interested in the point where she becomes significant again. She’s begging for help, asking why this is happening, and suddenly stiffens, lost to the world. They don’t notice, which just shows exactly how amateurish the whole job is.
Her eyes blank out, losing the depth of their color, before she looks back up again, a smile on her face that doesn’t belong.
“Now, all we have to do is wait,” one of them states quietly, and she laughs.
The voice is different, too. “I beg to disagree,” she states, and throws a knife with her foot, catching a man straight through the throat. In a matter of seconds, she’s free, a second knife in her hand. “All you have to do now is die.”
The movement is almost effortless. The woman dances, perhaps not unlike her dancing of before (yes, he’d caught up on her career—he likes to know who he’s dealing with), but he’s fairly sure she’s never wielded a knife with such precision, nor grinned so madly at the blood she’s painting the walls and floor with. There’s a pool of crimson in her wake, and she’s laughing at the fear on the men’s faces. The concrete of the warehouse is covered in a swath of blood and bodies.
They try to fight back, but they’re clearly outmatched. The laughter grows. “Come, can none of you challenge me?” she mocks in that voice that is not hers. She’s enjoying herself.
He’d almost wonder if she, too, didn’t suffer from schizophrenia if not for the rest of the video. She finishes, blood dripping from the knife, and then the Pharaoh flies in.
And she recognizes him and the power he uses. More than that, there’s that energy that leaves her body. It’s hardly the same as when he summons Blue Eyes, nor even that armor of Yugi’s. The police report says that there was no evidence she was even at the scene, which is impossible given what’s on the camera unless some weird spirit was, in fact, involved.
Never mind the fact that she has no idea that they’re all dead, that it was her hand behind the knife.
“What have you gotten me into, Yugi?” he growls, and keeps trying.
Yugioh Paparazzi!Verse
Chapter Summary: Kaiba's trying to put the pieces together.
Word Count: 860
Rating: teen
Kaiba growls again. No sign of Shidehara, which was impossible. The man had been seen entering the restaurant. There’s even CCTV. So where could the man have possibly gone?
He’d had all the bodyguards vetted thoroughly. He’d delegated at first, and the last in the pool got a thorough search beyond what even a simple background check, even a high-level one by one of the most accredited of agencies, could expose. Shidehara had been the newest of the new hires, of course. He wasn’t going to put Mokuba in the hands of such a field-inexperienced bodyguard, and Seto had more fighting ability than Yugi, so the reliable Roland fit him better. Perhaps it had been a miscalculation, but there’s no point in wishing he’d made a different decision. It’s not going to change anything, after all. What he can focus on is the now, and right now, he feels powerless, and that is utterly unacceptable.
Shidehara wasn’t the type to run away, at least not without his charge. It would’ve helped if the Pharaoh was more clear with his memory and could accurately describe what he’d seen, but out of the Pharaoh’s various qualities, the ability to give a detailed account of the past wasn’t one of them. He’d just have to do what he could with the witness account he had.
The man wasn’t in the hospital. He’d already checked there, for every single person who even remotely answered to the bodyguard’s description. Same with the morgue.
The other witnesses (those in the restaurant) vaguely remembered the bodyguard accompanying the Pharaoh and that woman to the restaurant, but didn’t believe that he’d been there the whole time.
“So where is he??” Kaiba yells, smacking the desk in lieu of doing the same to his faithful computer and potentially breaking valuable equipment. True, he could easily have it replaced, but that would be more aggravation than he can stand. He needs answers, and he needs them now.
It’s as if the man up and vanished into thin air, which is patently ridiculous, and an illogical result he refuses to accept.
He turns to another monitor, begins playing the CCTV. He managed to get his hands on this data and erase it from all other systems. It’s a favor he hadn’t planned to bring up to the reporter woman—yet.
Her memory’s hazy, too, at least from what she told the police, which was, as a matter of fact, child’s play to find, since he’s been easily hacking in since he was a child. Even so, this is clearer. The task would be easier if there were more cameras around, but Domino was not as paranoid about security as other cities he could name.
He watches as the kidnappers throw a hysterical woman (yet another reason she’s gone down in his estimation) into the warehouse. Dime-a-dozen thugs. They don’t tell him anything he doesn’t know.
He is particularly interested in the point where she becomes significant again. She’s begging for help, asking why this is happening, and suddenly stiffens, lost to the world. They don’t notice, which just shows exactly how amateurish the whole job is.
Her eyes blank out, losing the depth of their color, before she looks back up again, a smile on her face that doesn’t belong.
“Now, all we have to do is wait,” one of them states quietly, and she laughs.
The voice is different, too. “I beg to disagree,” she states, and throws a knife with her foot, catching a man straight through the throat. In a matter of seconds, she’s free, a second knife in her hand. “All you have to do now is die.”
The movement is almost effortless. The woman dances, perhaps not unlike her dancing of before (yes, he’d caught up on her career—he likes to know who he’s dealing with), but he’s fairly sure she’s never wielded a knife with such precision, nor grinned so madly at the blood she’s painting the walls and floor with. There’s a pool of crimson in her wake, and she’s laughing at the fear on the men’s faces. The concrete of the warehouse is covered in a swath of blood and bodies.
They try to fight back, but they’re clearly outmatched. The laughter grows. “Come, can none of you challenge me?” she mocks in that voice that is not hers. She’s enjoying herself.
He’d almost wonder if she, too, didn’t suffer from schizophrenia if not for the rest of the video. She finishes, blood dripping from the knife, and then the Pharaoh flies in.
And she recognizes him and the power he uses. More than that, there’s that energy that leaves her body. It’s hardly the same as when he summons Blue Eyes, nor even that armor of Yugi’s. The police report says that there was no evidence she was even at the scene, which is impossible given what’s on the camera unless some weird spirit was, in fact, involved.
Never mind the fact that she has no idea that they’re all dead, that it was her hand behind the knife.
“What have you gotten me into, Yugi?” he growls, and keeps trying.