Angels and Demons

Me: Gomen, everyone for the late updates
Hikari shadowcat: but she's been sorta......
Me: oh just say it, I've been LAZY lately, I've neglected all my stories lately and it's not just because of writers block but I don't make the effort anymore to at least try to get chapters written so I can post them later so sorry everyone for the late updates.
Character information on who's appeared so far.
Bakura: Hassassin, killer, etc....
Solomon Mutou: The dead physicist
Arthur Hawkins: The leader of CERN, also a physicist
Yami Motou: A Symbologist, teacher, one of the main characters
????: Dark character, leader of the brotherhood, Janus
Rex Raptor: The airplane pilot, driver, escourt
Espa Roba: Sentry
Maximillion Pegasus: Inventor and Physicists at CERN
(OTHERS WILL APPEAR LATER IN FURTHER CHAPTERS.)
Hikari shadowcat: Anyways rated r for Yaoi between YxYY and then close to a rape scene with YxB, death, murder, etc..... also I forgot to mention earlier Yugi's gonna be little different then normally the same goes for anyone else I add to the story.
Me: anyways we don't own YuGiOh or the book Angels and Demons by Dan Brown we only borrow them to write are stories so no sueing

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Chapter 8
When Hawkin and Motou emerged from the rear of CERN's main complex into the stark swiss sunlight, Motou felt as if he'd been transported home. The scene before him looked like an Ivy League campus.
A grassy slope cascaded downward onto an expansive lowlands where clusters of sugar maples dotted quadrangles boardered by brick dormitories and foot paths. Scholarly looking individuals with stacks of books nustled in and out of buildings. As if to accentuate the collegiate atmosphere, two haired hippies hurled a frisbee back and forth while enjoying Mahler's Fourth Symphony blaring from a dorm window.
"These are our rentalntal dorms," Hawkin explained as he accelerated his wheelchair down the path toward the buildings. "We have over three thousand physicists here. CERN single-handedly employs more than half of the world's particle physicists-- the brightest minds on earth--Germans, Japanese, Italians, Dutch, you name it. Our Physicists represent over five hundred universities and sixty nationalities."
Motou was amazed. "How do they all communicate?"
"English, of course. The universal language of science."
Motou had always heard math was the universal language of science, but he was too tired to argue. He dutifully followed Hawkin down the path.
Halfway to the bottom, a young man jogged by his t-shirt proclaimed the message: No Gut, No Glory!
Motou looked after him, mystified. "Gut?"
"General Unified Theory." Hawkin quipped. "The theory of everything."
"I see," Motou said, not seeing at all.
"Are you familar with particle physics, Mr. Motou?"
Motou shrugged. "I'm familar with general physics--falling bodies, that sort of thing." His years of high-diving experience had given him a profound respect for the awesome power of gravitational acceleration. "Particle physics is the study of atoms, isn't it?"
Hawkin shook his head. "Atoms look like planets compared to what we deal with. Our interests lie with an atom's nucleus-- a mere ten-thousandth the size of the whole." He coughed again, sounding sick. "The men and woman of CERN are here to find answers to the same questions man has been asking since the beginning of time. Where did we come from? What are we made of?"
"And these answers are in physics lab?"
"You sound surprised."
"I am. The questions seem spiritual."
"Mr. Motou, all questions were once spiritual. Since the beginning of time, Spirituality and religion have been called on to fill in the gaps that science did not under stand. The rising and setting of the sun was once attributed to Helious and a flaming chariot. Earthquakes and tidal waves were the wrath of Poseidon. Science has now proven those gods to be false idols. Soon all Gods will be proven to be false idols. Science has now provided answers to almost every question man can ask. There are only a few questions left, and they are the esoteric one. Where do we come from? What are we doing here? What is the meaning of life and the universe?"
Motou was amazed. "And these are questions CERN iyingying to answer?"
"Correction. These are questions we are answering."
Motou fell silent as the two men wound through the residential quadrangles. As they walked, a frisbee sailed overhead and skidded to a stop directly infront of them. Hawkin ignored it and kept going. A voice called out from across the quad. "Sil vous plait!"
Motou looked over. An elderly white-haired man in a college Paris sweatshirt waved to him. Motou picked up the frisbee and expertlrew rew it back. The old man caught it on one finger and bounced it a few times before whipping it over his shoulder to his partner. "Merci!" he called to Motou.
"Congratulations," Hawkin said when Motou finally caught up. "You just played toss with a Nobel prize winner, Maximillion Pegasus, inventor of the multiwire proportional chamber."
Motou noded. My lucky day.
It took Motou and Hawkin three more minutes to reach their destination--a large, well-kept dormitory sitting in a grove of aspens. Compared to the other dorms, this structure seemed luxurious. The carved stone sign in front read Building C.
Imaginative title, Motou thought.
But despite its sterile style name, Building C appealed to Motou's sense of architectural style--conservative and solide. It had a red brick facade, an ornate balustrade, and sat framed by sculpted symmetrical hedges. As the two men ascended the stone path toward the entry, they passed under a gateway formed by a pair of marble columns. Someone had put a sticky note on one of them.
This column is Ionic
Physicist graffiti? Motou mused, eyeing the column and chuckling to himself. "I'm relieved to see that even brilliant physicists make mistakes."
Hawkin looked over. "What do you mean?"
"Who ever wrote that note made a mistake. That column isn't Ionic. Ionic columns are uniform in width. That one's tapered. It's a Doric--- the Greek counterpart. A coomon mistake."
Hawkin did not smile. "The author meant it as a joke, Mr. Motou. Ionic means contain ions---electrically charged particles. Most objects contain them."
Motou looked back at the column and groaned.
Motou was still feeling stupid when he stepped from he elevator on the top floor of Building C. He followed Motou down a well- appointed corridor. The decor was unexpected-- traditional colonial French-- a cherry divan, porcelain floor vase, and scrolled woodwork.
"We like to keep our tenvred scientists comfortable," Hawkin explained.
Evidently, Motou thought. "So the man in the fax lived up here? One of your upper-level employees?"
"Quite," Hawkin said. "He missed a meeting with me this morning and did not answer his page. I came up here to locate him and found him dead in his living room."
Motou felt a sudden chill realizing that he was about to see a dead body. His stomach had never been particulary stalwart. It was a weakness he'd discovered as an art student when the teacher informed the class that Leonardo da Vinci had gained his expertise in the human form by exhuming corpes and dissecting their musculature.
Hawkin led the way to the far end of the hallway. There was a single door. "The penthouse, as you would say," Hawkin announced, dabbing a bead of perspiration from his forehead.
Motou eyed the lone oak door before them. The name plate read:
Solomon Mutou
"Solomon Mutou," Hawkin said, "would have been fift-eight next week. He was one of the most brilliant scientists of our time. His death is a profound loss for science."
For an instant Motou though he sensed emotion in Hawkin's hardened face. But as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Hawkin reached in his pocket and began sifting through a large key ring.
An odd thought suddenly occurred to Motou. The building seemed deserted. "Where is everyone?" he asked. The lack of activity was hardly what he expected considering they were about to enter a murdr scene.
"The residents are in their labs," Hawkins replied finding the key.
"I mean the police," Motou clarified. "Have they left already?"
Hawkin paused, his key halfway into the lock. "Police?"
Motou's eyes met the diretor's. "Police. You sent me a fax of a homicide. You must have called the police."
"I most certainly have not."
"What?"
Hawkin's gray eyes sharpened. "This situation is complex, Mr. Motou."
Motou felt a wave of apprehension. "But....certainly someone else knows about this!"
"Yes. Solomon's adopted grandson. He is also a physicist here at CERN. He and his grandfather share a lab. They are partners. Mr. Mutou has been away this week doing feild research. I have notified him of his grandfather's death, and he is returning as we speak."
"But a man has been murd----"
"A formal investigation," Hawkin said, his voice firm, "will take place. However, it will most certainly involve a search of Mutou's lab, a space he and his grandson hold most private. Therefore, it will wait until Mr. Mutou has arrived. I feel I owe him at least that modicum of discretion."
Hawkin turned the key.
As the door swung open, a blast of icy air hissed into the hall and hit Motou in the face. He fell back in bewilderment. He was gazing across the threshold of an alien world. The flat before him was immersed in a thick, white fog. The mist swirled in smoky vortexes around the furniture and shrouded the room in opaque haze.
"What the.....?" Motou stammered.
"Freon cooling system," Hawkin replied. "I chilled the flat to presserve the body."
Motou wrapped his arms against his body trying to fight against the cold. I'm in Oz, he thought. And I forgot my magic slippers.

Please R&R

Me: Again Gomen on the late update I'll try to update my this and any others that I have tomorrow.
Hikari Shadowcat: Anyways enjoy and don't forget to tell us what you thought.