A scream echoed through the world. Katsuya sat bolt upright, fumbling at his hip. The sound cut through him, flaying open his soul, but he managed to keep enough control to find the right button and press--and then the music started to pulse into his head, supporting and strengthening him. Power surged up Katsuya's spine and formed a skeleton inside him, keeping him from flying in all directions. The shards of his being collected again in the beating heart of the music... After several minutes, the music came to a close and then started up again with a slightly different beat. Katsuya blinked, and came fully to consciousness. He was, he realized, still in the hospital room, watching Michael sleep. Gray, rainy light shone in from the window, calm and soothing. Katsuya exhaled. He reached down and stopped the music. It was a shock as the support vanished, but at least the scream was gone. Outside, wind was blowing and cars could be distantly heard, while from the hospital came murmurs, footsteps and cryptic intercom announcements. Katsuya watched Michael's chest rise and fall for a while longer. Then he switched his CD player back on, leaned back, and closed his eyes. He didn't notice when Rachel reentered the room, and looked at him with sorrow in her eyes. ===== High Stakes starring Abe Katsuya and Tyrell Morgan Chapter Thirteen: All Bets Are Off by John Evans, jevans@alum.mit.edu High Stakes started by NeoVid presented by Beware the Radish ===== A cloud of red gas spilled from the Card. It billowed outward, a shadowy form taking shape inside. Tyrell's eyes widened at the figure that appeared. "I'll be damned," he murmured. Annette turned to him. "Tyrell? What is it?" "You mean 'who'," Tyrell replied. "It's--that guy. Terry." He rubbed his chin. "Jinsaku fought him a while ago. He had this fiery bird-like Minion. I didn't remember his name, so I didn't make the connection until now...But Steve showed us that Minion. Didn't you, Steve?" Tyrell looked over at the other man and blinked. Annette followed his gaze and gasped. Steve sat rigid, his arm holding the Card outstretched in front of him. His eyes were gleaming, staring at nothing. His breath sounded ragged in his throat as his chest rose and fell. "Steve? Steve, are you there?" Tyrell broke off as Terry, crouched on the floor in his tattered jacket, let out a low maon. "What--why am I here?" Tyrell had the strange thought that Terry's voice was oddly high for a ghost...but he still felt a shiver travel up his spine. Tyrell looked at Annette, but she didn't look that at ease, so he cleared his throat. "We just wanted to, well, talk," Tyrell said. Terry spun and glared at him with glowing red eyes. "I'm here to fight," the shade hissed. "This--that is the Game." He (it?) struck his daggers together with a harsh clanging sound. "The fight is all." "But who are you?" Tyrell asked. His only response was a low growl. Terry hunched on the ground, then shimmered as a haze surrounded him. In a moment he had vanished, his jacket fluttering to the ground, then it was gone as well. Steve suddenly took a deep breath, then exhaled shudderingly. Tyrell got up and hurried over to him. "Steve? You okay, man?" "Yeah...yeah, I'm okay." He looked at Tyrell, then at Annette who had come over to stand on his other side, and smiled. "Uh...wow." "...So, come on! What was it like?" Tyrell noticed Annette staring at him, and his enthusiasm deflated a little. "Uh, sorry. But I'm really, you know, curious." "It's okay." Steve wiped some sweat from his forehead. "That was quite something." "Did you feel...powerful?" Annette asked quietly. Steve hesitated. "Yes," he said finally. "In a way. There was something--here, come on, guys." He grinned and waved at them. "Come on, sit back down." Tyrell grinned back. "Yeah, sorry." He put his hand on Annette's shoulder, and she followed him back to the couch. After they were seated, he leaned forward. "So, spill it." "Very interesting," Steve said softly, looking at the Card in his hand. "I feel like I know this Terry person, now." He leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees, not moving his gaze. "He always thought of himself as an underdog. Everyone else was stronger, better looking, more powerful than he was. That's why--you'll notice he doesn't have a big sword or something." Steve turned the Card so they could see it. "He has daggers. Like for stabbing someone in the back. Not only that, he has two of them." He trailed off. Tyrell cleared his throat. "Steve, do you remember, well, anything that happened while Terry was...out?" Steve looked up. "Not really. What happened?" Tyrell looked at Annette, but she was hugging her knees again. He sighed. "Well, Terry came out and, I guess he was confused that there was nobody here to fight. So I asked him a couple questions, but he just sort of got angry and disappeared. I noticed something else, though--I've seen this guy before. Jinsaku had a match with him." "Really?" At Tyrell's nod, Steve exhaled. "Well. I guess I shouldn't be surprised." "But how did you feel?" The two men turned to look at Annette, whose cheeks colored. She frowned. "How did you feel when it was out here?" "Hmmm." Steve sat back in his chair. "I felt...this other personality overlaying my own. Or perhaps even combining with my own. Like I described, it was sort of--vengeful, I think. Spiteful." He gazed off into the distance for a moment, then looked back at them. "And he, or it or whatever, felt like he now had the power to get back at people." Steve waved the Card for emphasis. "Daggers or magical power or something. Hard to explain, really." "Tyrell, let's go." Annette stood up. Tyrell blinked. "You're sure?" "Yes." Annette turned and walked away. "Uh..." Tyrell rubbed the back of his head, and looked at Steve. Steve smiled gently. "It's okay," he said. "Go on. It's been a long evening." Steve rubbed his face. "Yeah. Thanks, Steve. For everything." Tyrell smiled back, then ran to catch up with Annette. ===== Katsuya peered into the darkness. "Here?" "Yeah," Rachel said. "Hold on, maybe there's a light switch--" There was a click, and fluorescent panels fluttered to life. Katsuya blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust. They were in a fairly large, bare room with hardwood floors. One wall was a long mirror, and the opposite one had a railing at about waist height. They were in the athletic center of some college, so Katsuya guessed the room was for dance or aerobics. And leaning against the wall opposite the door was a man. He pushed himself away from the wall with a languid movement. Katsuya's first impression was 'Goth'; even though he only knew what the term meant from Tyrell's vague descriptions, the other Player seemed to fit the bill. He was taller than Katsuya but just as thin. A ghostly pale face was framed by straggly black hair, so black it had to be dyed. Other than his boots, his entire outfit was black, long coat flapping around loose black shirt and jeans. He threw a grin at them. "Rachel Miller, I presume?" There was a pause. Katsuya looked over at Rachel and saw her hesitating. "Yeah," she said finally. "Craig Tillman?" "Indeed." Craig ran one hand through his hair and raised an eyebrow. "You're hotter than I expected." As Rachel gaped, he nodded to Katsuya. "Who's the zombie?" Katsuya closed his eyes and thought about the words. There was something about the guy...A tremble in his voice. "A friend," he heard Rachel reply, and almost cracked an ironic smile. "A Player? You can't have non-Players watch matches. Don't you know that?" Craig's tone bordered on sarcasm. "I know that!" Rachel snapped. Katsuya heard her step over to him. "Uh...Katsuya? You okay?" "Fine." Katsuya opened his eyes again, and caught a glimpse of something other than condescension in Craig's face. "Well, okay. You just let me know." Rachel bit her lip, then turned back to the other Player. She stepped forward and took a breath. "Going to give up without a fight?" Craig asked. Rachel exhaled. "What are you talking about?" she shot back. Katsuya wondered if Craig could hear the undercurrent of fear in her voice. Craig shrugged. "Well, you don't seem that inclined to fight--" "Fine! It's your funeral, chico." Rachel pulled out a Card and held it up. It flashed, and a dark mist began to swirl from the floor. The lights dimmed, and Katsuya felt a shock as a hooded cloak materialized in midair. It was impossible--he fumbled for his CD player and turned the music on again, letting it support him even while he knew it was futile. Any moment now the creature would... Katsuya blinked. The Minion hadn't taken off its hood, like it always did. And now it was holding a staff. It hadn't ever had one before...As the seconds passed, the conviction grew in Katsuya that this Minion wasn't the one who--the Minion Jinsaku had. His finger hovered over the stop button on his CD player, and after a few moments Katsuya forced himself to press it. To his infinite relief, there was no scream. "Rachel," he whispered. Rachel looked back at him. "What? Katsuya?" "What is that Minion?" "That? I don't know, I've never seen it before. It's a Fire type of some kind." Katsuya looked over and saw another Minion standing before Craig, a large, two-headed dog with reddish fur. The stereo growls produced a rather strange effect. He shook his head. "No, that one." Rachel looked again. "That? That's Boatman, my strongest Minion. Here." She held up a Card, and Katsuya read: Boatman, Darkness/Blood, 570/720. The picture showed a hooded being standing in the bow of a small boat. Katsuya exhaled. "Are you sure you're all right, Katsuya?" Rachel asked. Katsuya nodded. "Fine." "Hellhound, Flame Howl!" The dog Minion raised its heads and howled. Katsuya shivered, but it didn't seem to be an attack. The thing was simply revelling in the joy of--being fiery, or something. A shimmering, crackling aura developed around Hellhound. Katsuya's hand strayed to his hip again, but he didn't turn on the player. The howling made his skull itch and adrenal glands ache, but he could handle it. "He's making it charge up its power," Rachel muttered. "Fine! Boatman, Lost Soul!" The Minion's staff flickered, and the phantom image of a woman appeared in the center of the room. She raised a bow, drew it back, and fired. The ghost of an arrow flew forward and struck Hellhound right between the heads. The dog Minion skittered backward, both heads yelping in pain, but then the arrow and the woman faded to nothingness. Katsuya winced at the maddening sound. Craig snorted. "Is that all the fabled Boatman has to offer? This fight will be even shorter than I thought. Hellhound, Inferno Spear!" Hellhound growled and set itself. Before Boatman could react, the dog Minion was charging forward, enveloped in a fiery aura. It leaped forward and impacted with the floating cloak, then bounced backward with an explosive detonation, somehow landing on its feet. Katsuya blinked as Boatman crumpled to the floor. Even hurt, the Minion was totally silent. Rachel choked back a gasp as she looked at her Card. Katsuya heard Craig laughing. He looked at Rachel and saw her eyes blazing. "If he wants to play rough," he heard her mutter. She held up the Card and the Minion dissolved. Then she took out a different Card. "Undine." A silvery tendril extended from the Card then drooped to the floor, a waterfall in slow motion. Katsuya heard the slow crashing of waves as a watery humanoid figure stood. Then there was a gasp, and he looked over to see fear in Craig's face. "Inferno Spear!" The earlier confidence was conspicuously absent from the other Player's voice. His Minion charged forward again and rammed into Undine. Katsuya listened to the hiss of steam as Hellhound scurried back, shaking its head as its aura dissipated. Rachel smirked. "Waterlog." Undine made a slow gesture with its arm, as if it was throwing something underhand. The sound of the ocean grew, and a small wave of water rose up from the floor and smashed down onto Craig's Hellhound. It whined and shook itself, steaming drops of water flying off to hiss in all corners of the room. "Flame Howl!" Craig cried. The Minion threw back its heads and howled, sounding mournful. A tentative aura flared up around it. "Drown." Undine collapsed forward into a large sphere, which rolled forth and latched onto Hellhound's heads. The other Minion struggled, shaking its heads and dancing back and forth, but the globe of water followed its every movement. "Me maldeciran," Rachel muttered. "Campbell was good for something after all." "...no..." It was only a whisper, but Katsuya heard it. Craig's eyes were wide. Rachel laughed. Katsuya winced at the sound. "What's the matter, chico?" she taunted. "Can't you...*switch* to *another* Minion?" She laughed again. Katsuya saw Craig look at them. His eyes were very large. "No!" he managed, then fell to one knee, holding his throat. "Rachel," Katsuya said. "Aw, perrito pobre," Rachel said. But she was starting to sound uneasy. "*Rachel*." She turned to Katsuya. "Katsuya?!?" Seeing his expression, she shrank back. "But I--he--" Katsuya made no reply. After a moment, Rachel swallowed and turned back. Hellhound was lying on its side, the water swirling around its head, its legs kicking feebly. "Undine, retreat," Rachel said quietly. Instantly the Minion swirled back towards her and rose back into its humanoid form. Katsuya shivered as Craig gasped in time with both his Minion's heads. "I'm sorry," he managed. "I didn't mean--" Rachel suddenly flinched. Katsuya blinked. "Rachel?" "They--the Cards want--" She flinched again. Surging sounds came from her Minion, and it began to move back to the still-prone Hellhound. "The Cards--they want someone to win." Craig looked nearly paralyzed. "They--oh God, what have I done?" His voice was definitely shaking. "I--he said--why did I believe him?" Undine lashed out with a tendril of water. Hellhound whined at the impact and tried to writhe away. "I don't believe this," Rachel whispered. She turned to Katsuya. "What do I do? Katsuya, tell me!" Katsuya stared at her. There was nothing he could do--not him, running from the Minion all his life. There was nothing... "I'm sorry," Craig whispered. Katsuya looked over and remembered something. "Ask him," he said. Rachel blinked. "Ask him what?" "Who he meant." Rachel looked over at the other Player. "Who he--what?" "He said someone told him something." Katsuya stared. Undine was moving slowly, but it looked like Hellhound only had seconds left. "You can hear what he's mumbling over there?" Rachel asked. "Ask!" Rachel swallowed. "Right. ...Undine! Condenser!" The Minion stepped back from its prey, and held out its arms. Mist began to swirl around its form. Katsuya felt a dry breeze touch his cheek, dryer than he would have thought possible in Seattle. As the mist was pulled into Undine's body, it slowly grew in size. Rachel turned and looked squarely at the other Player. "Hey! Who were you talking about?" Craig looked up, dazed. "What?...He told me..." "Told you what?" Rachel snapped. "And who?" "He--that I could challenge you and win," Craig replied. "With a Fire..." "He almost did it, too," Rachel muttered. "That thing could beat both Boatman and Carnivale." "Who?" Katsuya called. "Who?...Chase Campbell." Katsuya blinked, then looked over at Rachel. Apparently Rachel knew Campbell, as she was rhythmically clenching and unclenching her fists. He looked over and saw that Undine had finished its 'Condenser', and was now almost twice its previous size. It took a step towards Hellhound. "Rachel--" "Pinche Caborron!" Rachel yelled. Katsuya was vaguely glad he didn't have Cards to translate for him. Rachel pulled out yet another Card. "Ice Queen!" Undine turned to vapor, which then coalesced into an ice statue of a nude woman. The Minion brushed her hair back with a tinkling sound. Katsuya watched as Hellhound got to its feet. It growled, its orange aura reasserting itself, and charged the Ice Minion. He looked over at saw Rachel staring determinedly ahead. It seemed that Rachel had decided to forfeit. It was over in less than a minute. The Minions disappeared, both reappearing in front of Craig. He knelt on the floor, staring at them. Rachel walked over to Craig, grabbed him by the shirt, and pulled him up to face her. "Listen carefully," she hissed into his gaping face. "Campbell played you like a cheap guitar. That's the only reason I'm letting you live, tonto. Next time you won't be so lucky." She pushed the other Player and he sprawled backward. Then Rachel turned on her heel and strode out the door. Katsuya shrugged philosophically, and followed her. ===== "Annette, you okay?" Annette felt her step quickening, as if her body wanted to get as far away from everything as possible. But she didn't slow down. "What do *you* think?" she muttered. She pushed past a woman laden with shopping bags. Tyrell caught up with her after a moment. "What? I'm sorry, I didn't hear you." "Never mind!" she snapped. She pushed through another knot of people, frowning. It seemed to be a busy night on the Seattle streets. "You're upset, aren't you?" Tyrell asked cheerfully. "It's okay. You can talk to me about it, if you want." "I don't." Annette felt the fear starting to gnaw at her again, and forced it down angrily. "Spare change?" Annette turned to take out her frustration on the panhandler, but stopped in shock. An old man with a frizzled white beard was wrapped in an absurdly luxurious fur coat. His wrinkled hand was outstretched. "Here you go, my man." Tyrell dropped some coins in his hand. "God bless you, sir." Tyrell took Annette's arm and gently steered her onward. She noticed a streak of red on the man's arm. "What was that?" Annette asked, shaking her head in an attempt to clear it. "What, the fur coat?" Tyrell smiled. "You hadn't heard? There's an animal rights organization...I forget who, but, they think fur is bad, right? So if you donate a fur coat to them, they give you a tax credit, then they paint a red stripe on the coat and give it to homeless people." "Oh," Annette said. "I...no, I hadn't heard." Then she frowned. "A red stripe? Why?" "So it can't be sold for money again, of course," Tyrell replied. "Pretty clever, I thought. It doesn't affect how warm they are, right?" Annette was silent for a few moments before speaking again. "So this red stripe is like a brand, showing that you have no job or place to live?" Tyrell winced. "That's a rather cynical thing to say." They came to another milling group of people and slowed down to push their way through. "A bit of money for a struggling artist?" Tyrell dug in his pocket and then put some change in another red striped- fur coated arm. "Thank you kindly," the low voice said. "Have a painting for your trouble." Annette tensed as a small hand pressed what felt like a piece of cardboard into her grasp. She tried to elbow away the people jostling her to get a look at it--and then screamed. Tyrell spun. "Annette! What--" He stared as Annette started shoving through the crowd. "Where ARE you?" she screeched. Faces began to turn towards them. "Annette!" Tyrell saw her stumble out of the crowd clutching someone by a fur coat. "What are you doing?" he called, finally getting free of the mass of people. "What are you *doing*?" Annette screamed, shaking the apparent artist. "You're NOT going to do anything to him! Do you HEAR me!" Tyrell started to ask what was going on, but was stopped short by the voice of the homeless artist. "What want you with me?" the woman demanded. "I be harming no one!" Tyrell gaped. "Talia?!?" There was a flash of movement, and the woman had slipped out of Annette's grasp, leaving her holding the fur coat. Unfocused eyes blazed under multicolored hair. "How do you know me?" she intoned. "Leave me be!" Annette tossed the coat to the ground and stepped forward. "You're going to answer--" "LEAVE!" Talia shrieked. She ran toward the crowd of people and slipped in like a fish diving into water. Annette ran after her, but was shoved back with yells and curses. "Annette!" Tyrell caught the girl before she fell to the ground. Annette resisted for a moment, then grabbed Tyrell and started crying into his chest. He put his arms around her gently and let her cry, as people passed them on both sides. After a few minutes Annette stopped sobbing. Tyrell released her. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, then looked away. He opened his mouth, but she pressed the 'painting' into his hand. "Look," she said dully. "All right," Tyrell replied. "What seems to be..." He trailed off as he saw what was on the piece of cardboard. At first he thought it was a Card. The same layout, with the picture and name, and even a type. But this was a painting of a Card...an imitation. Like someone had looked at one and decided to make a watercolor copy. The artistic style was not very detailed, almost abstract...But it was immediately obvious what the subject was. A big black man with a cheerful smile had a long, grayish object slung over one shoulder. It could be a wrench or just a metal bar, but he was holding it like a weapon. Under the picture were scrawled the words 'Earth Water Blood, Tyrell'. ===== Katsuya walked down the hospital hallway. For some reason, he actually felt better this morning. Usually his dreams were monotonously terrifying, but last night's had been jumbled and chaotic. Disorienting, certainly, but refreshingly so. He put his hand on the doorknob...then paused. A strange sound was emanating from Michael's room. Laughter, as if heard through layers of cloth. Something about it set his spine on edge. Steeling himself, Katsuya opened the door. Michael turned to him, rubbing at his face. Katsuya was shocked at the scars and blotches that covered the young man's visage. The bizarre laughter rang out again, seeming to come from everywhere. Katsuya reeled, hearing Michael shriek. "No! Not another one!" Michael cried. Katsuya staggered backward, trying to escape the sound. "The skull! Take it away!" Katsuya slammed the door and leaned against it, breathing raggedly. He heard glass breaking, and after a few moments the laughter faded. He tried to slow down his breathing... whatever had happened, it was over now. Just keep saying that... "Katsuya! What's wrong?" Katsuya wordlessly pulled open the door to let Rachel inside. She entered the room and cried out. Katsuya could hear wind blowing...It must mean the window was broken. He should have figured things wouldn't stay quiet forever... ===== To be continued... ===== Author's note Sorry this took so long...but hopefully it shook things up enough to be worthy of episode #13. ^_^ The red-stripe-fur donation is a real thing. I believe the organization that does it is PETA, the People for Ethical Treatment of Animals. Though I'm not *totally* sure... Many thanks to Ilmater for advising me on Rachel's characterization, and babelfish.altavista.com and www.insults.net for providing translations which I sincerely hope are accurate. ^_^ A quick guide to the important stuff: Me maldeciran - I'll be damned Perrito pobre - Poor puppy Pinche Caborron - Damned son of a bitch Tonto - Stupid (puts it in perspective, eh?) OMAKE! Rumor has it that the ultimate god of the Game is not Talia...but is, in fact, Puppy Tuppins! "What are you *doing*?" Annette screamed, shaking the puppy. "You're NOT going to do anything to him! Do you HEAR me!" Tuppins let out a pitiful whine. Tyrell sweatdropped. Annette woke up to the sounds of sobbing as she sat up from the tangle of blankets on her sofa. It was several seconds before she realized she was the source. Angrily swiping at her eyes, she tried to stand, but her legs gave out sending her sprawling to the floor. Trapped in a spiral of despair, she curled up into a fetal position and would have stayed that way if the noise of her landing didn't attract her closest friend's attention. She immediately barreled around the corner and attempted to comfort Annette in the only way she knew how...by licking her face. Annette clung to the girl like a lifeline and kissed the top of her head. "Mommy's ok, Tuppins...Mommy's ok..." "Arf! Arf!" Annette blinked. "Wait a minute...you're not Tuppins!" "Sure I am!" Talia said. "I mean, er, arf!" Annette pushed her away. "That's not funny." "Aw, come on. You know sleeping with me will make you feel a lot better than sleeping with that dog." She made watery puppy eyes. After a few moments, Annette sighed. "Well, all right." She stood up, and they walked back to bed. [Apologies to Ilmater, whose prose I shamelessly copied and parodied ^_^;] Beware the Radish http://www.chaoseed.com/btr/ 5/6/00