Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ The Dragoness ❯ The Client ( Chapter 1 )

The clock read ten o'clock. His client was over two hours late. Figures, he mused. Count on an American to be fashionably late, he smirked. But this was trying his patience. Disgruntled, he slowly span his oversized white desk chair around to stare out the picture window. There was no clear scene visible to his ice blue eyes. It was raining, and big, fat drops smashed against the glass, smearing out the smoggy black sky of the city.

 

10:09

 

He stood to leave, deciding that the client wouldn't show after all. Pity, he thought. And I was so looking forward to settling this debt with the old man. We've owed him longer than I've owned this company. He pushed the sleeves of his black sweater all the way down his bony arms. His face seemed as emaciated as the bone-thin arms; he didn't waste a lot of time eating. He picked up the white trench coat from an overstuffed sofa in the office.

 

Tacky, he decided. I should have tossed them out years ago. They were tacky when we bought them. But he shrugged off that though. Too many times had he seen the hazy ghost of a memory filling that empty sag in the seat cushion, always with those big, sad eyes.

 

A red light clicked on his large black walnut desk. “Mr. Kaiba?” came the tinny voice over the speaker. He took two long strides and hit the intercom button.

 

“Yes?” There was a moment of static, and several of her words were lost through it. Then he heard “-is here to see you Mr. Kaiba.”

 

Kaiba narrowed his eyes at the inconvenience that this gentleman brought to him. I'll going to need to replace the wires on that com set. The results are quite terrible. Somebody in Product Quality will be eating his badge…

 

“Send him in Miss Wheeler.”

 

“Yes Mr. Kaiba,” yelped the nervous little secretary.

 

He took three more steps and sank back into the oversized armchair. Trying to calm his temper, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. There was a time and a place for anger- now was the time to be cool, calm, cynical. He rested his narrow chin on his folded hands, elbows on the desk propping him up like one in prayer. But that couldn't be right- Kaiba never prayed. Not since… Once again he pushed the thought far from his mind. Perhaps like one in deep thought?

 

Whatever it was like, someone was there, without a knock. It momentarily surprised him- the cold blast from the air conditioning in the hallway to the stuffy room that never saw a window open.

 

The fluorescent lights flickered a hair. He saw it through the red mist of his eyelids. Just a subtitle chance, but Kaiba noticed it. He was noticing all sorts of things like this recently. Perhaps too much time spent in the office?

 

The heavy double doors slammed with a bang; a careless move by the intruder on his thoughts. He started, his shoulders flinching slightly. A vein in his temple pulsed. The reverberations ceased, and it was quiet. The carpet muffled out any steps the client took.

 

“Kikas,” said Kaiba slowly, opening his eyes even slower. He had hoped to give a menacing stare to the old fool- it was easier if he was the dominating force in the arrangement; to stare down the more experienced CEO of Kikas International Industries, Tyco Kikas.

 

But instead, he blinked. Surprise. That was an emotion he hadn't felt in a while. Not since…

 

“Miss Lillian Kikas, if you please. Lilly, if you prefer. You are Seto Kaiba?” she said carefully, as if reading from a script. Her voice bore a heavy Middle Eastern accent, but her Japanese was flawless.

 

The immediate surprise wore off. A woman. Excellent. So much easier to win over. I can just speak to Wheeler and she fawns all over me like a groupie backstage. This one can't be much different- all women are the same.

 

“Yes, Miss Kikas. I am Seto Kaiba, president of Kaiba Corp.”

 

“I knew this.”

 

“You speak Japanese? Much more convenient. English gives me a headache.” He tried being reasonably polite to the client- KII was a wealthy American computer company, based in Chicago.

 

“I speak many tongues. But this does not matter.” She sat down, uninvited, in one of the leather seats available.

 

“You wanted something from me?” he asked sternly, drawing them back onto subject. Nothing he hated more than idle chitchat. He studied her appearance. About 5'6” I'd suppose, dark brown eyes, olive skin. But her heritage is oriental. If I remember right, her mother is Chinese and her father is Japanese-American. Most noticeable is her length of dark green hair. He traced her body with his sharp eyes. Tan business suit- very American. Perhaps spending an extended period of time in the Middle East or Africa. Egypt? The heavy ornamental jewelry that she wore around her neck was familiar to him vaguely. Something from the past, perhaps. But Kaiba spent every day blocking out the past. It was useless to him now.

 

“Yes,” she responded, quite abruptly. Her accent cut right through his wandering thoughts.

 

“Yes what?” he asked angrily.

 

She looked confused. “You asked me if I needed something from you. Yes, I do.”

 

He relaxed. Control yourself Kaiba. Concentrate. Ignoring his little outburst, he leaned back in the chair. “What do you need?”

 

She pulled a strand of emerald hair away from her eyes. “Have you ever heard of the… Rare Hunters?”

 

He flinched. Great. Just what I needed. Another reminder about the geek squad parading around my city. And about Mok- he cut himself off. “They are familiar to me only by name,” he lied, feeling a slight sense of dread about what she was saying.

 

“You have no experience with them? I could have sword Malik told me-” It was her turn to be uncomfortable. She stood, turning to leave. “I've wasted enough of your time Mr. Kaiba. Surely, you do not know anything about these Rare Hunters. I will go.”

 

“Wait,” he commanded, catching her arm. She flinched backwards, an automatic response. What was that? Does she think I'm going to hurt her or something? The tone in his voice softened. He used to know someone who used to do that if you grabbed him to hard.

 

“Wait,” he repeated. “Stay, Miss Kikas. I may know something about the Hunters.”

 

Her face was a mask, emotionless. “Fine then. Can you help me?”

 

“With what?”

 

“Mr. Kaiba…” she hesitated. “… they… or someone connected to them… is trying to kill me.”