Enigma

AN: Apparently I chose the wrong forums to get a lot of
reviews, but that’s okay. As long as
someone’s reading it, it’s fine, although I certainly wouldn’t mind hearing
from people. *hint hint*
This took a bit longer because I actually had a bit more for
this chapter planned. Then I realized
that if I did it like that, it would be moving the plot way too fast, so I
rewrote the beginning, took off the end (it’ll come later) and added a lot of
stuff. Now the stuff later will make
more sense (hopefully). It looks like
you’re going to get a nice YY/Y lemon in chapter 6, though. *grins*

The police station was boring as hell. The room was large with several windows, but the paint was a depressing bluish-gray and there were three times as many of the rickety metal desks as there were windows. About half to two-thirds of the desks were still filled with men with badges. Some talked softly on the phones that sat on all the desks, while others sorted through files or gathered around the coffee maker. Atemu glanced wistfully at the coffee maker, rolling an empty Styrofoam cup in his hands.

“Ahem,” the officer on the other side of the desk cleared his throat. Atemu looked back at the man and sighed mentally. This was the third person he’d told his story to today. First had been to Detective Taylor, who had cheerfully corrected Atemu when he called him officer yet again. Taylor had been nice and had kindly asked Atemu to repeat what he said in front of a second person. Then the second person had dumped him with the current guy, who was a dreadful bore and didn’t seem to catch the hints that Atemu wanted more coffee.

“So you left after Detective Taylor informed you that he would make sure your friend, Mr. Kaiba, got an ambulance?”

“Yes. My boss wasn’t thrilled about me or the others being gone. If there hadn’t been so many of us gone that he needs to finish the film, he probably would have fired us.”

“He didn’t, though, did he?”

“No, but I have a feeling I’m going to regret that he didn’t for the next few weeks,” Atemu replied with a sigh. Saying Keith had been pissed would be an understatement.

“Alright,” the officer said, closing the file folder sit in front of him on the desk, “That’s everything. You can go now.”

Atemu blinked, the only sign of his surprise, while the other man stood, tucked the file under his arm, and walked away. Standing and stretching with a slight wince, Atemu decided that quickly fleeing the building really wasn’t that cowardly. Once he was outside, Atemu took a quick look at the cell phone they had made him put on silent. To his surprise, he saw that Kaiba had actually called and left a voicemail.

“I’m out,” was the only thing Kaiba had said before hanging up. Atemu sighed and shook his head as he deleted the message. Only Kaiba could manage to be so terse.

‘Maybe I’ll stop and get myself some coffee on the way home,’ he mused to himself as he headed for his car. ‘God knows I need it.’

~*~*~*~*~*~

Tristan sighed and frowned half-heartedly at the man facing him. The scuffed shoes, dirty jeans, un-tucked shirt, and rumpled jacket made him look like a punk. Of course, once upon a time, Joey Wheeler had actually been a punk.

“What do you want this time?” Tristan asked.

“Info on da bombin’ at KaibaCorp earlier today,” Joey replied in a rather matter-of-fact tone.

“Ah,” Tristan stated knowingly, “And that wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with the fact that you’re interested in a certain CEO as well, would it?”

Joey flushed and snarled.

“That’s none of your damn business, Tristan. I swear, if we weren’t friends-”

“There’s nothing much on the case at the moment,” Tristan interrupted, knowing exactly what would happen if he let Joey continue. He didn’t particularly want to get into trouble for being involved in a fight. “I’ll try and get what we do have to you by noon tomorrow, though, alright?”

Joey nodded.

“Arrangement’s same as always. Unless you changed your bank account number?”

“Nah. Go ahead and wire the money. I’ll see ya later, Joey. Don’t be a stranger.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Atemu arrived home to a dark apartment and a mailbox full of junk mail. Closing the door behind him and turning on the light, Atemu started tossing the mail piece by piece into the wastebasket by the door. Then he got to the envelope. It was plain with his name and address typed on it, but there was no return address. There wasn’t even a stamp. Atemu frowned as he threw away the rest of the mail and opened the envelope. Inside were two sheets of paper. Atemu was taken aback by the first page. It was his résumé. Then he read the second page.

You have a doctorate in Art History, training in jujitsu, are a skilled actor, and excel at games that require strategic planning. We could use skills like yours and would like to hire you. If you are interested, we will let you know how to contact us.

The closest thing to a signature was an emblem of a stylized Egyptian eye in a pyramid at the bottom of the page. Atemu scowled. He did have a doctorate in art history and the jujitsu thing had been for one of his past movies. Since the martial art had several moves that involved the victor wrapping his legs around his opponent’s waist, the director had used it for a scene that had been as much about foreplay as about fighting. Atemu had quite enjoyed learning jujitsu and sometimes found himself in the dojo practicing just to release tension and to stay in shape. As for everything else… well, that was a given.

“If I’m interested, they’ll let me know how to contact them?” Atemu mumbled to himself, “And how the hell do they plan on figuring out whether or not I’m interested?” With that, he trashed the odd note, résumé, envelope and all, and went to check his email.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“You did well today,” Pegasus announced as he walked into the garage.

Marik rolled his eyes at his boss as he busied himself at his worktable.

“Of course. I always do.”

“Indeed. We won’t know the full extent of the damage Kaiba-boy’s poor company took until tomorrow, but I can wait,” Pegasus spoke cheerily. Marik snorted.

“Are you here just to gloat over my work? My baby’s work?”

“No. It was splendid work, dear boy, both you and your baby, but I was actually wondering if you could recommend a decent florist. And possibly a candy shop.”

Marik gave Pegasus a look that was somewhere between startled and confused.

“Huh?”

“I want to drop in on an old friend tomorrow and completely surprise him.”

“Old friend, huh? Sorry, can’t help ya. Try the phone book,” Marik replied before once again becoming absorbed in his work. His next baby was going to be a thing of beauty.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Atemu frowned as someone knocked on his dressing room door. He quickly tied the sash of the robe he had been putting on and called out, “Come in!” He immediately regretted it as Pegasus waltzed in carrying a bouquet of wine-red roses and a tiny box of expensive chocolate.

“You look particularly stunning this morning, Atemu-boy. And even more ravishing up close.”

Atemu folded his arms over his chest while secretly wishing he hadn’t had enough time to get undressed. “What do you want?”

“Now, is that any way to treat your most ardent fan?” Pegasus asked sweetly as he set the roses down on the vanity top.

“It’s the way I treat every unwanted guest in my dressing room. Deal with it.”

“Tsk. And I’m putting up so much money for this production, too.”

Atemu’s eyes widened. “You’re what?”

“I’m paying for this dressing room, my dear boy, although Keith apparently thought it wasn’t enough to provide costumes as well,” Pegasus replied with a leer at Atemu’s robe-clad body.

“DAKKU!”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Atemu said stiffly and he brushed past Pegasus, “I believe that’s the director and I have a job to do.”

“Indeed. Indeed. I’ll just leave my little tokens in here. I’ll be seeing you around, I do believe. Ta!”

Atemu walked as fast as he could while keeping his body as stiff and non-sexual as possible. Gods, he hated that man.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Okay, everybody,” Keith announced at the end of the next day, “You were lame today. Tomorrow I want you to show me some real fire. Now go and hit the sack.”

Yugi sighed in relief as he gathered the scripts people left laying about. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he could have sworn Keith had been staring at him all day. Then Yugi jumped as he felt someone pinch his ass. Looking around, he saw Keith giving him a leer.

“You have a nice rear, Motou. Maybe you should try wearing some of those ass-less pants,” Keith suggested.

In your dreams, Yugi thought but out loud he said, “I think that would get a little cold.”

“I’d keep you warm,” Keith replied, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“No thanks. Besides, how would either of us get anything done?” Yugi asked, backing away.

“There are ways.”

“I need to go home and feed my cat, sir. If you’ll excuse me…” Yugi said before fleeing.

“Damn, damn, damn,” Yugi muttered as he leaned against his car and fumbled with his keys, trying to get them out of his pocket. Yugi knew he should have been suspicious when Keith had hired him, despite the fact that Yugi had no experience. It was just his luck that he got stuck working for a creep.

“You alright?”

Yugi jumped and squeaked, dropping his keys. “Kami. You startled me.”

Atemu frowned lightly even as he bent to retrieve Yugi’s keys. “Kami?” he asked.

“Kami’s a Japanese god,” Yugi explained softly.

“Ah. Here are your keys. And you didn’t answer my question. Are you okay?” Atemu said, a concerned look crossing his face.

“I’m fine,” Yugi lied as he took his keys. Well, it wasn’t quite a lie. He was feeling much better now that Atemu was there. Yugi wished he could listen to the other’s smooth baritone for hours. Of course, that would leave Atemu hoarse, and that wouldn’t be good. “Thanks for asking.”

“You’re welcome,” Atemu replied with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yeah, tomorrow,” Yugi replied as he watched the other man walk away. Yugi crawled into his car and then did his best not to squeal.

“Get a hold of yourself, Yugi,” he muttered, “You’re acting like a giddy schoolgirl. But, damn, he’s hot. And he likes me! Now if only it were Atemu making the passes and not Keith…”