Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ YGO Blade Runner ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

The spiky haired Blade Runner spent the next day trying to figure out what the scale he’d gotten from his target’s hotel room was from. It wasn’t until he had stopped at the White Dragon noodle bar for his usual dinner of cheep, lousy ramen that it hit him. Noticing that the customer beside him had ordered fish heads with his meal, he couldn’t help but think that the scales on the rather unappetizing meal were quite similar.
He then promptly paid for his half finished bowl and left for a local aquarium he had frequented a few times in the hopes of finding an affordable pet, which he never did of course. Ersatz animals were just as expense as the remaining few genuine ones. “Is this fish?” he asked the plump woman minding the counter, holding up the evidence bag containing the scale.
“Hmm… let me see,” she said merrily as she carefully took out the scale and placed it in the electronic microscope sitting nearby. “Oh my!” she cried, her eyes glinting in surprise beneath her glasses. “This is superior workmanship. The best I’ve seen.” She fiddled with the microscope a bit more until she found what she was looking for. “Aha! There’s the serial number… 9909647XB71. Why this isn’t fish at all, it’s a snake scale!”
“Snake?!” Atem parroted, nonplussed.
“If I were you, I’d try that Raptor boy’s place. This is most definitely his mark,” the woman said.
“Thanks for your help, Miss Dorothy,” he said taking back the scale.
“Oh it’s no trouble,” Dorothy replied, blushing slightly. “Anything for a fine handsome young boy like yourself.” Atem nodded in thanks again and left, but not without giving a few of the fish a longing glance. ‘Maybe after this case I could get a nice guppy,’ he thought, dreaming of the nice big, fat bounty he’d get from ‘retiring’ so many replicants.

About half an hour later, he was able to locate the shop of one Rex Raptor, a rather disagreeable man who specialized in manufacturing all sorts of reptiles. Glancing about the Blade Runner’s crimson eyes widened at the sight of an enormous Komodo dragon lounging in an air conditioned glass cage. He had to admit, this man had to have been good if he could come up with something as rare as that.
“Yeah, whadda ya want?” a two toned brunet man asked, annoyed at having his work interrupted.
“You Rex Raptor?” the spiky haired man queried.
“Who wants to know?” the shop owner shot back, eyeing the man suspiciously.
Atem pulled out his Domino City Blade Runner license and flashed it at the brunet. Rex scowled, but said nothing “How’s your license, it up to date?” he asked, enjoying himself as the man squirmed slightly.
“Of course it is!” Rex spat hurriedly.
“Good, now I’ve got some questions for you, Rex.” He then handed him the snake scale. “That your work?” The two toned brunet snatched the scale and quickly shoved it under his microscope.
“Yeah so what?” he shot.
“Who’d you sell it to?” the Blade Runner asked.
“My stuff’s pretty expensive ya know,” Rex skirted, “Aren’t that many who’ve got the dough who can afford these beauties.”
“How many?” Atem pressed.
“Very few,” Rex replied, obviously not in the mood to give up the info.
The Blade Runner’s eyes darkened to a deep blood red as he narrowed them. “I think I’d better see that license of yours,” he demanded icily.
Rex went pale, he knew once this man had seen that there was no license, he’d be out of a livelihood and rotting in a jail cell. “H-Hey, take it easy man. It’s cool,” he pleaded, “Ya like snakes? I’ve got a nice Burmese python, just made ‘er two days ago. How’d ya like to have ‘er, free of charge?” Had he been any other person, the spiky haired man would have snapped up the offer, but he did have some honor.
“Who bought it?” he growled, grabbing hold of the brunet’s beat up jacket.
“B-Big guy,” Rex stammered, “Wears a bandanna and sunglasses.”
Atem let go of him and immediately left the place. “Should have known,” he muttered to himself as he headed for the sleaziest club in Domino.

‘Bandit’ Keith’s club was jumping as it always was. Where else would the dregs of society have to go to get their booze and sick kicks? Sighing the Blade Runner sat down at the bar, waiting for the blond proprietor to notice him. How he hated dealing with the sleazy bastard, Keith was always trying to get him hooked up with one of his ‘girls’.
Glancing toward the stage, he grimaced as the men sent hoots and cat calls at the girl performing. To him it was more gyrating then an actual performance.
“See something you like?” Keith said, coming over to the man’s seat.
“Not what I’m here for, Keith,” Atem spat back. “You get your snakes from Raptor don’t you?” he asked, indicating the python slithering in the wall sized tank off to the other side of the club.
“Yeah, so? You looking ta buy, I can smooth over a deal for ya.”
The shorter man glared as he pulled out a photo and shoved it in the blond’s face. “Have you seen this guy lately?” Keith’s eyes widened, but he quickly turned his head away and began to busy himself with wiping the bar off.
“Never seen ‘im before.”
“I can’t remember,” Atem said, leaning closer to the taller blond, “Maybe you can refresh my memory. You’re up to date on your liquor license aren’t you?” Keith almost dropped the glass he’d been wiping.
“How about a drink, Atem old pal, on me of course,” he said quickly grabbing a nearby beer bottle and glass, setting them down before the spiky haired man. Atem nodded in thanks, though he was still annoyed that he was getting nowhere. Then again, he really hadn’t expecting Keith to outright spill his guts. All he’d been able to gather was that the blond had lied about not seeing the blond before.
He sighed and took a gulp straight from the bottle, not bothering to pour the beer this time. He pulled out the mysterious boy’s photo again only to realize that he’d pulled out Noa’s picture of him and his mother along with it. He stared at it for a moment then turned it over, glancing at the scribbled phone number.
He didn’t know what possessed him to do it, but he got up and ran to the nearest available vidphone booth. Maybe it was that he had nothing better to do for now; or maybe it was he’d decided to take the boy up on his offer of help. Whatever it was, Atem decided to just get this over with and began dialing.
“Hello?” said the mint haired boy a few moments later, his face filling the tiny view screen.
“I’ve had plenty of people run out on me before,” the spiky haired man joked, trying to hide his uneasiness, “But not when I was being so charming. How about we try again? I’m at the Club Jinzo, I’ll buy you a drink.”
The boy frowned in distaste. “I’m afraid not, Mr. Mutou,” he replied, “That place is not to my tastes.”
“We can go somewhere else then.”
However, it seemed that the boy wasn’t at all interested or in the mood for company. Instead of giving him an answer, Noa abruptly hung up, leaving a rather surprised Atem on the other end. Sighing, the Blade Runner inserted his bank card and paid the buck twenty-five for the call.
A minute later, he was back at the bar, his beer still lay on the counter. As he took another swig from the bottle, the MC on the stage began announcing the next act. He wasn’t really that interested but, turned to watch upon hearing the word snake. Within moments an almost naked figure appeared, holding an albino python that was draped around its bronze neck and arms. The halter top the performer wore hid the chest, but to Atem’s trained eyes, the figure was clearly male.
He watched intently as the man began to lead the snake in a most sensuous dance, which promptly earned the usual cat calls and wolf whistles from the observing drunks and a few of the waitresses as well.
It wasn’t that he was attracted to the platinum blond on the stage, true the snake dancer was practically having sex with the serpent, but that wasn’t why he was so drawn to the man. He’d recognized the tattoo of a cobra on the left side of his face; it was one of the replicants he’d been hired to ‘retire’!
Now that he’d spotted his target, Atem rose from his stool and weaved his way through the crowded club to the backstage area. Flashing his police issued id, the guard posted by the rusty metal door grunted and reluctantly allowed him through.
Snatching up a newspaper that had been abandoned from the floor, the spiky haired man leaned against the wall and began to wait for the blond to finish his act. He paid no attention to the scantily clad men and women hustling and bustling throughout the club’s backstage.
He didn’t have long to wait. About five minutes later the bronze skinned man came from the stage, the python once again resting comfortably around his neck and arms. Seeing this may be his only chance, the Blade Runner sidled up to him, his best sleazy and charming smile on his face.
“Pardon me, sir,” the spiky haired man said, blocking the blond’s only route of escape. The exotic dancer glared at him, but waited to see what the fool wanted before doing anything. Besides, there were too many witnesses mulling around at the moment.
“I’m with the Federation of Variety Artists,” Atem went on to explain, deciding to use a fake nasal voice. “I’d like to talk to you, if you don’t mind.”
“You don’t say,” the blond said not buying the man’s act, but humoring him anyway and flashing him a flirting smile.
“I’m not going to ask you to join, nor sir,” the spiky haired man replied and following him into a dressing room, “That’s not my job. I’m actually from the Committee of Moral Abuses.”
“Committee of Moral Abuses?”
“Yes sir. It’s been brought to our attention that the management of this… establishment has been reported to um… take liberties with some of the… ah… artists employed here.”
“Well that’s news to me,” the blond replied, removing the serpent and draping it onto a coat rack as like one would with a favorite scarf.
“Yes, well have you ever felt exploited in any way?”
“What do you mean?” He was getting nervous now, not because the blond had been taken advantage of by a certain sleazy blond owner, but because it was pretty obvious this man was lying through his teeth. However, he was not one to reveal his emotions to anyone, having been ‘trained’ to do. He continued to eye the man suspiciously – this spiky haired stranger was equally guarded – and waited for his chance.
“Well,” Atem continued, “Like how’d you get this job for instance, were you made to do anything that was lewd or unsavory or otherwise repulsive to you?”
The blond glanced over at him from the closet after having put away a stray coat or two. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, giving a barking laugh.
“Oh definitely not,” the Blade Runner replied still putting on his cheesy inspector act, “I’d like to look around your dressing room if I may.”
“Oh yeah? What for?” he asked, stripping his barely there outfit and stepping into the shower and turning it on.
“Why holes of course.”
“Holes?!”
“Well, you don’t know what some people would do to get a look at a beautiful body,” the shorter male answered, quickly adverting his eyes from the now naked performer. “They sometimes drill little holes in the walls so they can watch people undress.” Atem moved through the cluttered dressing room, pretending to look for said holes as he waited for the right moment to strike. Two minutes later, the blond returned from the shower, his hair now dry thanks to the industrial strength beauty salon style hair dryer that was tucked into a corner.
“So um… is that a real snake?” Atem asked as the blonde began to dress.
“What do you think?!” he snapped, pulling on a stiletto healed boot that only reached to the middle of his calf, having already slipped on a pair of skin tight black leather pants that looked more like black paint then clothing. “You think I’d be working in a place like this if I could afford a real snake?!”
Said snake hissed at him as the shorter man made to stroke it. Atem pulled back suddenly upon receiving a slight electric shock. He didn’t need the shock to prove that it was fake; he’d already known that. It was just that he’d never really seen a live snake before and he was curious as to how it felt to touch one.
“So what do I do if they try to exploit me? Who do I go to?” the topless blond asked sidling over to him.
“Why me of course,” the spiky haired Blade Runner replied, pouring on the charm.
“How dedicated of you, here make yourself useful,” the blond quipped, shoving the towel head been carrying at him. Atem stared at the piece of cloth for a few seconds, then began to nervously run it along the blond’s damp exposed back. The Blade Runner’s eyes examined the intricate tattoo covering the entire plane of bronze skin curiously.
The blonde exotic dancer bent a bit to pick up a small light purple hoodie top. That was when he chose to strike. Quick as the cobra tattooed onto his face, he elbowed the shorter man in the gut, causing him to fly back several feet and onto a clothing covered chaise. The blond replicant then yanked the hoodie over his head and shoved his arms through side holes as his hunter lay panting heavily.
He then menacingly strode over to him and yanked at the spiky haired man’s tie, grinning as he proceeded to strangle him with it. Mere seconds later, the sounds of someone entering the dressing room caused the blond to panic and drop the tie. He dashed for the door and brutally shoved the poor girl aside as she was about to enter.
The replicant raced through the maze of hallways and dashed out one of the rear staff entrances. Moments later, a still panting Atem burst from the Club Jinzo hot on his target’s trail. He pushed aside the many pedestrians and street vendors as he desperately chased after the blond.
He frowned upon seeing that he’d lost the target within the crowd. His crimson eyes began to dart back and forth, desperately seeking a bronze skinned, blond man. He wove through the labyrinth of hummer like taxis and pedestrians, pushing aside a bunch of Hare Krishnas that had decided to get in his way at that moment.
Finally spotting a flash of lavender and platinum on the other side of the street, Atem pushed his way after the still fleeing replicant. The Blade Runner forced his way onto a passing tram car, brandishing his gun. The blond had seen him and started to race off into the crowd once again, desperate to escape.
Swearing under his breath at his ill luck, Atem leapt off the tram and once again made his way into the throng of people. He spotted the blond crouching on the subway stairs and made to shoot him again. But as Fate would have it, the replicant quickly shot up and ran off again, leaping over a car stopped at a red light.
“Move it! Get out of the way!” Atem screamed at the pedestrians when he saw he finally had a clear shot. But they just ignored him, either not having heard him over the din of the multitude of blaring ads and talking traffic signals or just not giving a damn. He fired several shots only to miss each time and frighten some of the people.
The blond dashed through a fashion store’s window display, shattering the glass and sending it flying in all directions. Having finally broken free of the sea of people, the Blade Runner fired one last shot at the fleeing replicant. He finally hit his target, the bullet going through the center of the tattoo on the blond’s back and bursting from his chest.
The blond ran for a few more feet then stumbled, rolling onto his back as he fell onto the store’s floor. He staggered, managing to get up again and made to run; he had to get away! His spiky haired assassin fired another shot, hitting him in the heart. The poor replicant let out a soundless gasp and crashed through the store’s rear display window, landing on the sidewalk, dead and red fluid seeping onto the hoodie and sidewalk.
Atem stared numbly as policemen came rushing over to the corpse and began examining it. One of them eyed him suspiciously and the Blade Runner promptly pulled out his license. “Mutou,” he said breathlessly from having spent most of his energy chasing the replicant. “B263234.” The cop took the license and ran his identification number through the portable database strapped to his wrist. Once he had been recognized as an officially licensed Blade Runner, the policeman gave back the shorter man’s license and went on with disposing of the blond’s body.

Unbeknownst to any of them, a tall blond was glaring dangerously at the spiky haired man from across the street, his honey eyes glowing with righteous fury. That bastard had killed his best friend! It was only when poor Malik’s corpse had been carted away like a sack of potatoes did Jounouchi walk away from the now dispersing crowd of onlookers. ‘I’m gonna make ‘em suffer!’ he vowed as he went in search of the others.

In desperate need of a drink, Atem made his way to a liquor stand he frequented. “The usual?” the girl on duty tonight asked, batting her eyes at him.
He shook his head, “Make it vodka this time,” he replied.
“Sure thing hot stuff,” she said winking at him. As she went to fetch a bottle of the clear liquor, he felt someone tap his shoulder rather aggressively. Scowling, the spiky haired man grabbed the offending hand and spun around only to wind up face to face with a raven haired man dressed in red and black. It was that annoying toady of Marik’s.
“Ishtar wants to see you,” he said, smirking at the irate Blade Runner.
Atem nodded then paid for the vodka. Grabbing the now paper bagged bottle; he followed his less than agreeable colleague to his squad hover car. The car’s passenger door slid up and a tall blond with bronze skin gracefully exited the vehicle. “You look as bad as that skin job you left lying back there,” he quipped as he greeted the shorter man.
“Look, Marik, I’m tired,” Atem spat, just about had it for today, “I’m going home.”
“You should start learning from this guy, Otogi,” Marik said to the tall brunet, “He’s a one man slaughterhouse. You’ve still got four left,” he added to the shorter Blade Runner.
The spiky haired man stared incredulously at his superior a few moments then spoke up, “You’re wrong Marik, I’ve got three.”
“Four,” emphasized the blond, “Remember that skin job you VK’d at Kaiba’s? Well, the big guy himself phoned, said that it vanished, ran off. He said it didn’t even know it was a replicant, something to do with brain implants. Let’s go Otogi,” he said getting back into the hover car. “Oh yeah, why don’t ya have one for me?” he sniped, noticing the bottle his colleague had been carrying.
Otogi nodded curtly to Atem then proceeded to round the vehicle and get into the driver’s seat. The Blade Runner watched tiredly as the police car rose up into the air and sped off into the rainy night sky.


Sakura: Don’t you just loooooooooooooove those old gumshoe movies?!

Yami: Not if I’m the one involved.

Sakura: Shut it pharaoh! Well I’m off to play my new fave game – Everybody Hates Sasuke!!

Sasuke: I don’t even want to know.

Itachi: Sounds interesting, how do you play?

Sakura: I’ll tell you later Ita-kun. Well, I’m sure you know what to do minna. See ya next chappie! Jya ne!