Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Angels and Demons ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 2 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Yamishadowcat22 
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Suspense | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 06.01.2004 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 272 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Suspense | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 06.01.2004 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 272 | Status: Completed
Me: Hi, everyone here's a book i've just starting reading known as Angels and Demons by: Dan Brown
Hikari shadowcat: and what we've read so far is very good.
Me: so we decided to write a YuGiOh story basied on the book we've read but we'll have different people instead of who's in the book.
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 also 1 to 2 reviews will tell us you like it and wish for us to continue.
=======================
Chapter 1
High atop the steps of the Great Pyramid of Giza a young man laughed and called down to him. "Yami, hurry up! I knew I should have married a younger man!" His smile was magic.
He struggled to keep up, but his legs felt like stone."Wait," he begged."Please.."
As he climbed, his vision began to blur. There was a thundering in his ears. I must reach him! But when he looked up again, the man had disappeared. In his place stood an old man with rotting teeth. The man stared down curling his lips inot a lonely grimace. Then he let out a scream of anguish that resounded across the desert.
Yami Motou awoke with a start from his nightmare. The phone beside his bed was ringing. Dazed, he picked up the receiver.
"Hello?"
"I'm looking for Yami Motou," a mans voice said. Motou sat up in his empty bed and tried to clear his mind. "This....is Yami Motou." He squinted at his digital clock. It was 5:18 A.M.
"I must see you immediately."
"Who is this?"
"My name is Arthur Hawkins. I'm a discret Particle Physicist."
"A what?" Motou could barely focus. "Are you sure you'ver got the right Motou?"
"You're a Professor of religious iconology at Harvard University. "You've written three books on Symbology and--"
"Do you know what time it is?"
"I apologize. I have something you need to see. I can't discuss it on the Phone."
A knowing groan escaped Motou's lips. This had happened before. One of the perils of writing books about religious symbology was the calls from religious zealots who wanted him to confirm their latest sign from God. Last month a stripper from Oklahoma had promised Motou the best sex of his life if he would fly down and verify the authenticity of a cruciform that had magically appeared on her bed sheets The Shroud of Tulsa, Motou had called it.
"How did you get my number?" Motou tried to be polite, despite the hour.
"On the Worldwide web. The site for your book."
Motou frowned. He was damn sure his book's site did not include his home phone number. The man was obviously lying.
"I need to see you," the caller insisted. "I'll pay you well."
Now Motou was getting mad. "I'm sorry, but I really--"
"If you leave immediately, you can be here by---"
"I'm not going anywhere! It's five o'clock in the morning!" Motou hung up and collapsed back in bed. He closed his eyes and tried to fall back asleep. It was no use. The dream was emblazed in his mind. Reluctantly, he put on his robe and went downstairs.
Yami Motou wandered barefoot through his deserted Massachusetts Victorian home and nursed his ritual insomnia remedy--a mug of steaming Nestle's Quik. The April moon filtered through the bay windows and played on the oriental carpets. Motou's colleagues often joked that his place looked more like an anthropolgy museum than a home. His shelves were packed with religious artifacts fromaround the world--an ekuaba from Ghana, a gold cross from Spain, a cycladic idol from the Aegean, and even a rare woven boccuss from Borneo, a young warrior's symbol of perpetual youth.
As Motou sat on his brass Maharishi's chest and savored the warmth of the chocolate, the bay window caught his reflection. Th image was a distorted a pale.....like a ghost. An aging ghost, he though, cruelly reminded that his youthful spirit was living in a mortal shell.
Although not overly handsome in a classical sense, the twenty-year-old Motou had wht his female colleagues referred to as an "erudite" appeal--crown of red and black hair which stood in angles, crimson red eyes, blond bangs with three extra streaks that went up into his crown of hair, an arrestingly deep voice, and the strong, carefree smile and collegiate Athlete. A varsity diver in prep school and college, Motou still had the body of a swimmer, a toned six-foot physique that he vigilantly maintained with fifty laps a day in the university pool.
Motou's friends had always viewed him as abit of an enigma--a man caught between centuries. On weekends he could be seen lounging on the quad in blue jeans, discussing computer graphics or religious history with students; other times he could be spotted in his leather, photographed in the pages of upscale art magazines at museum openings where he had been asked to leture.
Although a tough teacher and strict disciplinarian Motou was the first to embrace what he hailed as the " lost art of good clean fun". He relished recreation with an fraternal acceptance among his students. His campus nickname--"The dolphin"--was a reference both to his affable nature and his legendary ability to dive into a pool and outmaneuver the entire opposing squad in water polo match.
As Motou sat alone, absently gazing into the darkness, the silence of his home was shattered again, this time by the ring of his fax machine. Too exhausted to be annoyed, Motou forced a tired chuckle.
God's people, he thought. Two thousand years of waiting for their Messiah, and they're still persistent as hell.
Wearily, he returned his empty mug to the kitchen and walked slowly to his oak-paneled study. The incoming fax lay in the tray. Sighing, he scooped up the paper and look at it.
Instantly, a wave of nausea hit him.
The image on the page was that of a human corpse. The body had been stripped naked and it's head had been twisted, facing completely backward. On the victim's chest was a terrible burn. The man had been branded......imprinted with a single word. It was a word Motou knew well. He stared at the ornate letting in dibelief.
"Illumintai," he stammered, his heart pounding. It can't be.....
In slow motion, afrid of what he was about to witness, Motou rotated the fax 180 degrees. He looked at the word upside down.
Instantly, the breath went out of him. It was like he had been hit by a truck. Barely, able to believe his eyes he rotated the fax again, reading the brand right-side up and the upside down.
"Illumintai," he whispered.
Stunned, Motou collasped in a chair. He sat a moment in utter bewilderment. Gradually, his eyes were drawn to the blinking red light on his fax machine. Whoever had sent this fax was still on the line.....waiting to talk. Motou gazed at the blinking light a longtime.
Then, trembling, he picked up the reciever.
Please R&R
Me: Please tell me what u thought.
Hikari shadowcat: again 1-2 reviews will tell us you wish to read more.
Hikari shadowcat: and what we've read so far is very good.
Me: so we decided to write a YuGiOh story basied on the book we've read but we'll have different people instead of who's in the book.
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 also 1 to 2 reviews will tell us you like it and wish for us to continue.
=======================
Chapter 1
High atop the steps of the Great Pyramid of Giza a young man laughed and called down to him. "Yami, hurry up! I knew I should have married a younger man!" His smile was magic.
He struggled to keep up, but his legs felt like stone."Wait," he begged."Please.."
As he climbed, his vision began to blur. There was a thundering in his ears. I must reach him! But when he looked up again, the man had disappeared. In his place stood an old man with rotting teeth. The man stared down curling his lips inot a lonely grimace. Then he let out a scream of anguish that resounded across the desert.
Yami Motou awoke with a start from his nightmare. The phone beside his bed was ringing. Dazed, he picked up the receiver.
"Hello?"
"I'm looking for Yami Motou," a mans voice said. Motou sat up in his empty bed and tried to clear his mind. "This....is Yami Motou." He squinted at his digital clock. It was 5:18 A.M.
"I must see you immediately."
"Who is this?"
"My name is Arthur Hawkins. I'm a discret Particle Physicist."
"A what?" Motou could barely focus. "Are you sure you'ver got the right Motou?"
"You're a Professor of religious iconology at Harvard University. "You've written three books on Symbology and--"
"Do you know what time it is?"
"I apologize. I have something you need to see. I can't discuss it on the Phone."
A knowing groan escaped Motou's lips. This had happened before. One of the perils of writing books about religious symbology was the calls from religious zealots who wanted him to confirm their latest sign from God. Last month a stripper from Oklahoma had promised Motou the best sex of his life if he would fly down and verify the authenticity of a cruciform that had magically appeared on her bed sheets The Shroud of Tulsa, Motou had called it.
"How did you get my number?" Motou tried to be polite, despite the hour.
"On the Worldwide web. The site for your book."
Motou frowned. He was damn sure his book's site did not include his home phone number. The man was obviously lying.
"I need to see you," the caller insisted. "I'll pay you well."
Now Motou was getting mad. "I'm sorry, but I really--"
"If you leave immediately, you can be here by---"
"I'm not going anywhere! It's five o'clock in the morning!" Motou hung up and collapsed back in bed. He closed his eyes and tried to fall back asleep. It was no use. The dream was emblazed in his mind. Reluctantly, he put on his robe and went downstairs.
Yami Motou wandered barefoot through his deserted Massachusetts Victorian home and nursed his ritual insomnia remedy--a mug of steaming Nestle's Quik. The April moon filtered through the bay windows and played on the oriental carpets. Motou's colleagues often joked that his place looked more like an anthropolgy museum than a home. His shelves were packed with religious artifacts fromaround the world--an ekuaba from Ghana, a gold cross from Spain, a cycladic idol from the Aegean, and even a rare woven boccuss from Borneo, a young warrior's symbol of perpetual youth.
As Motou sat on his brass Maharishi's chest and savored the warmth of the chocolate, the bay window caught his reflection. Th image was a distorted a pale.....like a ghost. An aging ghost, he though, cruelly reminded that his youthful spirit was living in a mortal shell.
Although not overly handsome in a classical sense, the twenty-year-old Motou had wht his female colleagues referred to as an "erudite" appeal--crown of red and black hair which stood in angles, crimson red eyes, blond bangs with three extra streaks that went up into his crown of hair, an arrestingly deep voice, and the strong, carefree smile and collegiate Athlete. A varsity diver in prep school and college, Motou still had the body of a swimmer, a toned six-foot physique that he vigilantly maintained with fifty laps a day in the university pool.
Motou's friends had always viewed him as abit of an enigma--a man caught between centuries. On weekends he could be seen lounging on the quad in blue jeans, discussing computer graphics or religious history with students; other times he could be spotted in his leather, photographed in the pages of upscale art magazines at museum openings where he had been asked to leture.
Although a tough teacher and strict disciplinarian Motou was the first to embrace what he hailed as the " lost art of good clean fun". He relished recreation with an fraternal acceptance among his students. His campus nickname--"The dolphin"--was a reference both to his affable nature and his legendary ability to dive into a pool and outmaneuver the entire opposing squad in water polo match.
As Motou sat alone, absently gazing into the darkness, the silence of his home was shattered again, this time by the ring of his fax machine. Too exhausted to be annoyed, Motou forced a tired chuckle.
God's people, he thought. Two thousand years of waiting for their Messiah, and they're still persistent as hell.
Wearily, he returned his empty mug to the kitchen and walked slowly to his oak-paneled study. The incoming fax lay in the tray. Sighing, he scooped up the paper and look at it.
Instantly, a wave of nausea hit him.
The image on the page was that of a human corpse. The body had been stripped naked and it's head had been twisted, facing completely backward. On the victim's chest was a terrible burn. The man had been branded......imprinted with a single word. It was a word Motou knew well. He stared at the ornate letting in dibelief.
"Illumintai," he stammered, his heart pounding. It can't be.....
In slow motion, afrid of what he was about to witness, Motou rotated the fax 180 degrees. He looked at the word upside down.
Instantly, the breath went out of him. It was like he had been hit by a truck. Barely, able to believe his eyes he rotated the fax again, reading the brand right-side up and the upside down.
"Illumintai," he whispered.
Stunned, Motou collasped in a chair. He sat a moment in utter bewilderment. Gradually, his eyes were drawn to the blinking red light on his fax machine. Whoever had sent this fax was still on the line.....waiting to talk. Motou gazed at the blinking light a longtime.
Then, trembling, he picked up the reciever.
Please R&R
Me: Please tell me what u thought.
Hikari shadowcat: again 1-2 reviews will tell us you wish to read more.