Author's Note: Hi readers-enjoy another Trustshipping AU fic from me, WritingAmateur. Unlike The Dueling Man (RIP), this fic is planned from top to bottom and will be finished! Hurray!

If you like, please review and fave/follow and all that jazz! Writers love that kind of thing...

"I'll go."

Her voice, quiet but clear, cut through the ghastly crackling tension in the room. Hands folded behind her back, a hint of resignation threaded through with desperation in her voice, she looked into the tall man's cold eyes and swallowed hard before continuing.

"I'll go instead. You want a hostage, right? Don't take my brother, please-take me instead-" Her hands dropped to her sides, fists clenching as she anticipated reaction, nails digging into palms almost deep enough to draw blood. Please… show some mercy…

Seto Kaiba cocked his head to the side as his sneer faded; he looked almost thoughtful as he considered her proposition.

Take his sister instead? What an intriguing idea, that-

He swept his eyes over her body quickly-not so quickly that she didn't notice, didn't feel his eyes crawling across her flesh-her body, hidden by a simple, boxy long dress, her delicate neck, veins pulsing rapidly as her heart rattled in her chest-her startling blue-green eyes and shining black hair, trailing along one shoulder in an intricate braid… She's certainly no eyesore-

She could quite definitely be of use to me-

Marik's eyes widened as the gravity of what his sister was asking of Kaiba fully dawned upon him; he pushed his glasses up his nose with a shaking hand. Sister… what could she possibly be thinking right now? His voice emerged, strangled and high-pitched as he darted to her side, grabbing both her hands and squeezing them tightly, his eyes meeting hers helplessly-hopelessly.

"Ishizu-don't be ridiculous... This is my fault-it's all my fault-I won't let you suffer because I made this mistake…!" Voice growing thick, cracking along the edges as he sniffed, trying uselessly to hold back tears-the tears that threatened to bubble over his eyes. Unmake him before his own sister-before this cruel, cruel man-

Ishizu lifted her brother's hand, still clutching her own, and kissed it briefly, gently, before her forehead crinkled, lower lip wobbling, as she responded, quietly, almost raggedly: "Marik-if you go, who will run the company? Odion? Me? We have nowhere near your level of expertise in these matters-without you, our business wouldn't stand a chance…" She breathed in a cool breath, hoping to stop the quailing of her stomach, the bile rising in her throat-to appear strong and confident for her brother, able to handle the seriousness of her decision-

Marik rolled his eyes, nose growing red, scoffing almost sadly as a tear slipped down his cheek. "I'm the expert? Yes, Ishizu-that certainly did a lot of good for us, didn't it…" I'm such an idiot. I'm such a fool-and now my sister wants to pay the price-

Seto merely crossed his arms and looked bored at this whole maudlin family drama. "Will you two make up your minds, already? I have a company to run-you know, an actual corporation-and I really don't have time for you two sniveling and weeping all over one another." A sneer in his voice. Gaze narrowing. "One of you goes with me, or I ruin you-it's that simple."

I do not forgive. I do not forget.

A small family business on a quiet street in Domino City-the kind with the lower level dedicated to serving customers, with the small apartment on the second floor reserved for the family-the proprietors.

He looked through the tinted limousine window at the hand-lettered sign over the doorway and fought back a sneer at how utterly childish it looked. Well, they are supposed to be the best in the area…

The Ishtar Antiquities Company…

Through his network of connections he had heard tell of their fabulous reputation in the dealing and appraising of antiquities from nearly all nations, though, as the name would indicate, specializing particularly in Egyptian objects-the family had arrived to Domino City from Cairo several years prior, if he remembered his research correctly-which he nearly always did. Since the family had opened up shop, under the aegis of the patriarch Osiris Ishtar, now deceased as of a few months or so, the small company had built a solid reputation as an honest, reliable dealership and appraisal service. Of course, with Osiris Ishtar gone, his son Marik had taken his place as the head of the business and of the family, and there hadn't seemed to be any kinks to iron out in the transitional period.

There was another brother, too, he thought-and a sister, away at school-but it was hardly of importance to him at this time.

He had come, after all, to have the famed Ishtar Antiquities Company take a look at a recent acquisition he wished to display in his office later that evening-for the upcoming soirée, or somesuch thing, that the Kaiba Corporation was hosting in its headquarters to celebrate its purchase-or rather, its buyout-of a local competitor-a small Domino company that had begun its own three-dimensional holographic technological experiments.

Seto Kaiba didn't particularly like these sorts of parties, if he were completely honest about the subject. Frilly, useless affairs where everyone seemed to drink and flirt and swirl about with no regard for propriety or common sense. And the endless nagging from his colleagues and rivals about his sex life, for Seto never brought anyone to these functions… rather annoying.

He personally had not embarrassed himself in such a way at one of the many, many parties he was required to attend, not only those he threw on behalf of the Kaiba Corporation, but those of business partners and other major corporations in the area. He simply put on a show-it was easy for him after so many years of learning how. Smile. Dazzle with charm. Refill the glasses. Win them over. Propose deals. Get pens in hand. Signatures. Everyone going home happy, with a beautiful woman on their arms-the entertainment for such affairs was often… interactive. Creating sustaining relationships with other leaders of industry.

After all, when one ran an arms manufacturing company, it did not do to make enemies…

"Mr. Kaiba, sir, we've arrived." Roland's voice crackled through the intercom.

Seto pressed the button and responded, voice somewhat testy. "Yes, Roland, I'm quite aware. You'll be carrying in the artifact, of course."

"Of course, sir."

Then Seto was stepping out of the vehicle, squinting against the bright sunlight while Roland stood by the door, at attention, before straightening his impeccably tied blue tie, brushing a speck of dust off his dark gray wool suit, and walking up the gently sloping ramp to the door of the Ishtar Antiquities Company, where a tiny "open" sign hung in the curtained window.

He hesitated before knocking on the door-it looked rather dirty, and the blackened, doorbell was no better. Would proper hygiene really be too much to ask…?

Rap-rap-rap-

Marik Ishtar jumped at the sound of a firm, steady knocking on the door. Flipping the magazine he was reading closed, he shoved it into a drawer of the old, slightly splintery wooden desk. "Ah-yes-one moment, please!" Thank the gods-a customer. Ra knows we do need the business… He threw his hair back into a ponytail, wiped the crumbs from the cookie he'd been eating from his stubbled chin, and straightened his wrinkly button-down shirt before shoving his glasses up his nose and walking around the desk to answer the door.

He unlocked the several locks on the door-after all, security for the objects in his care was of the utmost importance-Osiris had drilled that into his head during his training-and opened the door, fighting down a gasp at the tall, pale figure who smiled coldly and entered the shop.

Seto's eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the room; he nearly sneezed as a mote of dust crept into his nose. This is such a cliché…

The interior of the Ishtar Antiquities Company looked as he might well have expected-a small wooden desk towards the back with several rulers, a tape measure, and an intensely burning lamp, rows and rows of curio cabinets lining the walls, a Persian carpet, worn and raggedy, on the floor beneath his feet, dim lighting-trying to emphasize the mystery of the place, he supposed-various large artifacts occupying each corner of the room-terracotta warriors from China, various sizes of ushabtiu from Egypt, exquisitely carved Roman and Greek white marble figures…

He turned to the smaller blond man before him. "I'm impressed." He extended his hand. "Marik Ishtar, I presume?"

Marik swallowed hard and gingerly accepted Seto's hand as if the man himself were a weapon. Seto Kaiba… the arms dealer? In my store? What could he want…?

"Y-yes, I'm Marik Ishtar. And you-you're Seto Kaiba, of the Kaiba Corporation, right?"

Seto smirked and nodded curtly. The Kaiba name still had the power to awe. What good would it do if that power ceased…?

"It's an honor to have you here, Mr. Kaiba, just an honor-please, please be seated…" Marik pushed his glasses up his nose and led Seto over to his desk, where he pulled out an old faded high-backed chair out of a dim corner and pulled it in front of the desk, gesturing for Seto to sit as he walked around to take his own seat.

Seto fought back a grimace at the dusty old chair before sitting down, back perfectly straight, crossing his legs, and fixing his intent gaze on Marik. "Thank you, Mr. Ishtar. I assume you're the one I want to see-I've heard excellent things about your little company…" Voice even. Polite. Almost friendly, even. Best to set the evidently nervous man at ease.

Marik wiped his sweaty palms on his khakis and fiddled with the lamp light. "Ah-ah, thank you-thank you so much, sir, though, of course, that was my father's doing-most of it, anyway…" He glanced up at the portrait of Osiris hanging above one of the cabinets chock-filled with various old coins and trinkets and swallowed hard. Calm down, Marik. You can do this…

Seto followed Marik's gaze. "Yes-quite a pity. But I'm sure you can be of some assistance to me, Mr. Ishtar."

Marik snapped his head back and smiled broadly, if somewhat shakily. "Of course, Mr. Kaiba-please, how can the Ishtar Antiquities Company be of service to you this fine day?" Just like father taught me. The spiel. The smile. The lines. I can do this-

-Seto Kaiba, of all people-

Seto turned his body in the chair and snapped his fingers. "Roland, please…"

Through the slightly opened door entered a bulkier man-that is, bulkier than the slender Seto and the small-framed Marik- with dark hair and darker sunglasses, carrying an intricately carved wooden box. He kicked the door shut behind him, causing Marik to flinch as a shudder rattled through the room, and approached the desk silently.

"The artifacts, Mr. Kaiba." And Roland proffered the box.

"You can put it on the desk, Roland," Seto replied lazily, sounding for all the world like an entitled prince, voice weary from years of giving orders. As Roland complied, he continued, "you can go wait by the car."

"Yes, sir." And with that, the solid, mysterious-looking man walked over to the door and exited the shop, as suddenly as he had entered.

Marik's eyes were enormous. "Is that-"

"My driver, yes." Seto rolled his eyes and gestured towards the box. "Would you?"

"Ah-of course, Mr. Kaiba." Marik opened one of the drawers of the desk and withdrew a fresh pair of latex gloves, which he slicked onto his hands before pulling the box closer towards him. "This is a beautiful box, Mr. Kaiba-I'd have to say maybe Japanese, but I can't give you a date quite yet…"

Seto stifled a laugh. "What I'm asking about is inside the box, Mr. Ishtar."

A bead of sweat clotted at the back of Marik's neck. "Oh-of course-my apologies, Mr. Kaiba…" He pushed his glasses up his nose and gently lifted the lid on the box, revealing a small, intricately carved ivory comb, decorated with rows upon rows of tiny, textured animals, nestled in burgundy velvet.

"Oh gods-this is lovely," breathed Marik, heart pounding in his chest as he carefully lifted the comb into his gloved hands and brought it under the light, examining the object, turning it over carefully in his hand. "Where did you come across this, if I might ask?"

Seto bristled slightly. "I don't think that's any of your business, Mr. Ishtar…" After all, if he happened to have helped to fund an archeological dig that was perhaps not exactly approved by the Egyptian government, per se-save, of course, of the greased pockets provided by the potential promise of business-Marik had no need to know about this particular artifact's origins…

Marik smiled uneasily. "Of course-my apologies, Mr. Kaiba…" Don't be an idiot and lose this man's business, Marik-! He placed the comb back into its box and opened another desk drawer, withdrawing a soft cloth, which he laid upon the surface of the desk. Reaching once more for the comb, he laid the ivory on the cloth, then fumbled around in the same drawer for his magnifying glass.

Seto watched Marik work, eyes bright and glittering in the harsh yellow lamplight. The process of an expert, I see…

"Hmm. Well, Mr. Kaiba, I'd have to say, based on the carvings and the style, that this piece is from Egypt-my homeland, by the way-and likely dates from the Predynastic period…" Through the magnifying glass, Marik observed that the animals seemed to include elephants, hyenas, snakes, giraffes, all in neat rows, carved with a tender, sure hand.

"Ah. Excellent. So you believe it's genuine, then?" Getting to the real question…

Marik's brow furrowed; he chewed on his lower lip as he set the piece down. "I do. Based on the types of animals portrayed-look, here's an elephant-here's a hyena…" Seto leaned forward with interest as Marik pointed out the various creatures formed in the creamy off-white material.

Seto smirked and leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Excellent. I'll have something to show to that bastard Hawkins tonight at the party… that old fogey, thinking he can one-up me again…

Arthur Hawkins, that older snob of a CEO of the company that manufactured a certain kind of microchip that competed with KaibaCorp's own such technology, always seemed to manage to one-up Seto in this sort of thing. If Seto was serving ten-thousand-dollar champagne, Hawkins would serve fifteen-thousand-dollar champagne-and would make sure everyone knew it. Now, with this particular prize-a real, ancient Egyptian artifact-the creaky old fossil would just die with envy, unable to beat Seto in terms of a rarer, more desirable display.

Marik studied the piece further, anxiety creeping into his voice, his heart rate starting to pick up. "I mean-I believe so, Mr. Kaiba-but I'd like to have some time to further examine the piece, maybe telephone some dealers back home in Egypt-if you don't mind-" After all, while Father would have known instantly… I'm not just one hundred percent sure of this one…

Seto's eyes turned cold, the light blue of his eyes turning to ice as his delicate mouth twisted in a scowl. "That's… not going to work for me, Mr. Ishtar. I intend to display this piece in my office, starting this evening." He stood up and placed his hands on either side of the desk, leaning in close towards Marik and narrowing his eyes. "So if you're not sure, then I'm taking my piece and seeking help elsewhere, and I surely will not be paying you for your useless opinion…"

Marik's breath caught on itself-Seto Kaiba really could be frightening when he set out to be-and swallowed hard. "I-I believe it's genuine, Mr. Kaiba; I really do-" Gods forgive me if I'm wrong… but we really do need the money…

Seto's eyes scanned over the younger man's face, searching through the lines and crevices where lies could be hiding. Hm.

Well, he does believe it's genuine… and he is the expert, after all…

He straightened up and smoothed his hands along his suit jacket, a tiny smile of triumph curling onto his lips. That asshole Hawkins will keel over with jealousy… "Excellent, Mr. Ishtar. Now, if you'll please place it back in the box, I'll be on my way."

Marik did as Seto requested, then pulled the gloves off of his hands and tossed them in the wastebasket by his feet. "I'm glad I could be of help, Mr. Kaiba…" He began to twiddle his thumbs as he wondered, sweat now dripping down his back in several rivulets, how exactly to bring up the price…

Seto snapped his fingers for Roland, who somehow managed to hear his employer through the closed door; Marik winced in the bright light emitting through the crack created when Roland opened the door, walked over, and carefully lifted the box off of Marik's desk as Seto stood up, a smirk curling on his patrician features as Marik gazed up at him, trying not to look as nervous as he felt.

"Ah. Of course, Mr. Ishtar-I can't leave without paying for your time. How much do I owe you?" He reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a sleek, elegantly-stitched black wallet-new, leather, from the smell of it-and opened up the billfold.

Marik's mouth went dry. "Fifty dollars, Mr. Kaiba-" After all, Father charged one hundred-twenty-five per hour… and Mr. Kaiba was only here for maybe fifteen, twenty minutes? … Should I be rounding up?

Seto withdrew a crisp hundred-dollar bill and tossed it onto Marik's desk as Marik nearly hiccuped in surprise. "Keep the change, Mr. Ishtar." Replacing the wallet smoothly, he bowed his head towards the younger man, who responded with the same gesture. "Thank you for your service, Mr. Ishtar. You've proven quite helpful to me…" Ha. I can't wait to see the look on Hawkins' face…

Marik grinned broadly, pawing at the brand-new money on his desk, with its strange, papery scent, trying to disregard the fact that his shirt back was near-completely soaked. "No, Mr. Kaiba, thank you!" He let go of the bill and walked around the desk, waving through the open door as Seto Kaiba dipped inside the backseat of the stretch limousine.

As the car pulled away, Marik slowly shut the door to the Ishtar Antiquities Company and sagged against the door, feeling his pulse becoming erratic.

By the gods, I do hope I was right…

Midnight draped itself over Domino City like a velvet curtain, punctuated throughout by the gleaming silvery spires of skyscrapers. Chief among them was the KaibaCorp headquarters, the tallest tower of them all, the top five floors of which were currently bustling with finely dressed partygoers mingling in dim, seductive lighting-where Seto Kaiba's party was presently occurring. Champagne, wine, liquor all flowed freely from bottles older than than Domino City itself. Hors d'oeuvres were passed around on trays by attractive waitresses, who gave the various industry leaders in attendance increasingly inviting looks as the night went on. Couches. Chairs. Low tables. Whispers. Laughs. People in corners-

And in the center of it all, surrounded by the crème-de-la-crème of the Domino business community-CEOs, presidents, board members- was Seto Kaiba. Looking sharp in a black tuxedo, silk bowtie, embossed belt and cufflinks, face plastered in a suitably warm smile, blue eyes twinkling with what appeared to be good humor-Seto Kaiba was in top form this evening as the host of the party. As a waitress brought another round of drinks for the men standing in the small circle-while Seto was, of course, still nursing his first glass of scotch-the better to be on top of things-he lifted his glass and cleared his throat.

"A toast, gentlemen, if you will. To the promise of a new partnership between KaibaCorp and HoloWorks!" He fought a scoff from twisting up his throat at the fairly ridiculous name of the company his own had utterly conquered through purchase as the rest of the men lifted their glasses and drank.

Seto took a small sip and licked the remainder of of the rich liquor off his lips before clearing his throat once more. "Now, my friends, shall we retire to my private office? I'm sure there will be plenty of interesting things for you to do up there…" Like scantily clad women. Lingering in the shadows. Aiming to be taken home for the night by a rich man. Often succeeding.

Though rarely with Seto himself.

And, of course, the display case with his artifact.

As the men murmured their assent, the idea ringing true in their drink-addled brains, they followed Seto to the elevators, where Seto punched in the private code to access his office floor.

Then the elevator carried them several floors up in a smooth whoosh as Arthur Hawkins, mustachioed, fair-haired, turned to Seto curiously. "What do you have for us up here, old friend?" He had been, indeed, an old friend of Seto's father's, back when Gozaburo Kaiba ran KaibaCorp, yet once Seto had taken over at a young age, he hadn't exactly managed to find the same respect for Hawkins that his father had- thus the endearment was just barely sarcastic enough for Seto to take his meaning. Thus, their endless game of one-upmanship: Hawkins participating because he couldn't stand the little wunderkind and his arrogance; Seto because he despised losing in any form.

Seto smirked and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Well, Hawkins, old chum, I think you'll yourself quite amazed…" An object such as this-he'll be shocked! Envious as hell.

The doors opened and they were greeted by a chorus of female giggles. Several of the more wayward men in their pack quickly peeled off and were greeted by kisses; soon only Seto, Hawkins, and a few other men remained as Seto led them to his office.

As they entered the appealing modern space-all sleek lines, low couches and large glass windows behind his desk-giving a breathtaking view of the city, all laid out before them like the parts of a glittering circuit board-Seto beckoned to Hawkins to follow him, as he flicked on a few low lights in one corner of the spacious room, and sighed to himself, anticipating the strained, jealous reaction of his colleague, as he took in that fine ivory comb, lying in the open wooden box on its bed of velvet.

"I've made a recent acquisition, Hawkins, old friend-one I think you'll appreciate…" Seto stood before the beautiful object as the older man approached.

"What is it this time, old chum-another ghastly piece by that Murakami fellow? How nouveau riche of you, my boy…" Even he stopped in his tracks, breath taken away at the sight of the artifact lying before them, bathed in soft light.

Seto watched, eyes narrowing, grin growing wider and wider across his face as Hawkins, looking rather dumbstruck, hand fumbling slightly, pulled a monocle from his breast pocket- "such a lovely piece-may I?"-and leaned forward to give the comb further examination.

"Antiquity is an interest of yours, friend?" Seto asked, restraining himself from crowing in triumph as Hawkins' forehead creased, eyes scrabbling over the piece wildly, looking, perhaps, to find some fault in it…

"Well, Seto, my boy, I did dabble in collecting in the early days of my company-before my tastes expanded to more modern works of art, that is…" Hawkins' voice was slightly shaky, as if he were shocked, shocked that his rival had managed to acquire something of such rarity, of such quality- "I do think I could consider myself a minor expert on such things, so to speak…"

Seto crossed his arms in front of his chest almost proudly. "Then you'll know, of course, that I had this piece appraised by none other than the Ishtar Antiquities Company-they verified its veracity." See how he likes that, the bastard…

Hawkins turned his head to look at him curiously. "Ishtar… I heard the old man was dead, no?"

"Yes, but his son is just as good as he is. Spitting image of the man, as well…"

Any time now- any time for him to shake my hand- let me see the defeat in his eyes…

Hawkins' voice suddenly took on a trace of humor-sending an unwanted shiver down Seto's spine. "Are you sure about that assertion, old chum?" Beneath the fair mustache, a tiny grin spreading.

Something's wrong. Why is he smiling like that- could it be-

"Are you doubting that this piece is genuine?" He fought to keep his voice steady. Disinterested. Normal. Arrogant. As he would-as if the older man's demeanor wasn't threatening to shake his confidence…

Hawkins swallowed his grin and straightened up, replacing the monocle and looking at Seto with the veneer of pity. "Well, old friend, it seems you've been taken for a ride there. That piece is a fake-a good one, top-of-the-line ivory and everything, but clearly a fake." Upstart…

Seto's eyes widened in barely suppressed horror, color rising to his cheeks. How dare he… "No, no-it's been verified as Egyptian, predynastic period by Ishtar's son, himself-"

Hawkins walked over to Seto and patted him on the shoulder in a condescending, almost fatherly manner, his eyes wide and full of shallow kindness. Seto nearly hissed at the older man's rude gesture. How dare he touch me-

He backed away from Hawkins and swallowed hard. "What makes you so certain that it's a fake, my friend?"

"Why, because the animals are wrong. There were no tigers in ancient Egypt-I assure you that much is true." Hawkins crooked his index finger; Seto narrowed his eyes, the blue slits unforgiving as the men leaned into the piece, Hawkins lifting his monocle for Seto's benefit.

Seto squinted through the round piece of glass, holding his breath-and his heart sank as he realized that the creature that Marik Ishtar had deemed a hyena did indeed resemble a tiger.

A cold fury ignited in his veins as he stood up, smoothing the front of his tuxedo jacket. Ishtar- "I see," he replied stiffly, fixing Hawkins with the cruelest gaze he could manage, bending his mouth into something approximating a smile as the older man simply looked back at him with an unsavory merriment in his eyes. "Well, I must thank you, old chum, for looking out for me-clearly I put my trust in the wrong hands…"

"Yes-glad I could help you, old friend-pity about the Ishtars, though- the old man never would have made such a mistake…"

Seto uncrossed and recrossed his legs, leaning back against the plush leather of the limousine backseat. Seething. Teeth sharp. Ready to cut for blood-

That idiot. Marik Ishtar-

That was utterly humiliating-how can I expect to face that old sack of bones again with a straight face? Humiliating. Completely disgusting.

The party had ended sometime around three o'clock in the morning. However, instead of making his excuses and returning to the Manor and attempting to get some sleep-in a near daze of rage and fury, he'd summoned Roland and ordered his driver to take him back to the Ishtar Antiquities Company-that tiny, woebegone shop they'd visited only that afternoon.

I've never been so insulted in my life.

Well-

I'll make sure he pays.

He figured leaking the story to the press and ruining the Ishtar Antiquities Company-putting that idiotic, vile, waste-of-space family out of business-was a good place to start.

But no-

That wasn't enough.

Not nearly.

He needed it to hurt more.

More.

Personally.

After all, his grievance against Marik Ishtar was personal, was it not? As was his rivalry with Hawkins, who seemed to have completely captured the upper hand in their constant game of challenges?

Hawkins had won the battle.

Seto would ensure that he and he alone would win the war.

He looked out the window at the lamplit streets as Roland drove him smoothly through town, hands quaking by his sides; he balled them into fists and shoved them in his lap, chewing furiously on his lower lip as the car pulled up before the small building containing the shop and the residential apartment above it.

Before Roland could get the door for him Seto had thrown it open and practically leapt out of the vehicle, gnashing his teeth as pure liquid fire roared through him; heart pounding in his ears, blood boiling under the cool night air. Endlessly repeating in his mind, as if it were the only mantra to keep him sane:

I will make them pay.

And I know exactly how-

He squinted his eyes in the dark and walked around to the side of the building, where he found a set of wooden stairs, with a rusty metal handrail, leading up to a door. This must be their apartment… Shuddering at the thought of the squalor these Ishtar fools must surely have inhabited, he ascended the staircase, not deigning to touch the handrail, and knocked.

Rap-rap-rap-

In the plain but cozy living room of the apartment, Marik was bringing his older sister Ishizu- home from graduate school for the semester-she'd decided to go the museum route and was studying to be a curator-her dinner on a tray. A lump of vegetables sat beside what appeared to be a sticky clump of rice-despite all of Marik's charm and talents in other areas, Ishizu noted with a small smile, cooking was not among his specialties…

"And when does Odion get back, Marik?" Their other brother was much more proficient at this sort of thing…

Marik plopped into his chair by the fireplace and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I think in about a week… sorry about the food, Sister-all I had were leftovers…"

Ishizu grinned at him before picking up her chopsticks. Damn. He called me out! "Not a problem, Brother-I assure you, I won't starve regardless of what you manage to butcher…" She stuck her tongue out at Marik-

They both jumped in their seats as the door rattled with a knock, disrupting their conversation.

Ishizu gazed up at Marik with inquisitive eyes. "Are we expecting any guests, Marik?" She set down her tray and walked over to one of the windows, peering out at the staircase to their door as she pushed the thin, frayed curtain aside.

There was a man there, in the dark-tall, in a suit-eyes searing-

Rap-rap-rap-

"Who is it, Ishizu?" Marik rose from his chair and walked over to her.

Ishizu turned to him, eyes large and confused. "There's-there's a man out there, Brother-"

Marik swallowed hard and pulled open the door-

The gleaming, freezing-cold fury of Seto Kaiba, barely masking his brewing rage and hatred for him-standing on his doorstep-

Marik's heart dropped into his stomach. "Mr. Kai-Kaiba, what brings you to our home-"

He was cut off, rudely, by Seto as the taller man pushed past him, nearly knocking him into the wall, and strode into the center of their living room, critically taking in the details of their home with a casual sweep of his eyes. Pathetic. These idiots are pathetic…

"You have utterly embarrassed me tonight, Ishtar." His voice was quiet. Almost mellow.

Wholly menacing.

Impossibly frightening.

"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Kaiba?" Marik's voice was almost a petrified squeak as he stared at the floor by his bare feet, praying to someone listening-anyone-to be swallowed up whole. Saved.

Seto licked his lips, willing his voice to continue being soft. In that vein. Feeding off their fear.

"You and that-that counterfeit artifact... Your mistake in its identification will cost you dearly, Ishtar." I will make you pay-make all of you idiots in this family pay-

Marik almost fainted as he felt his heartbeat stutter wildly. Counterfeit...? How...?

Could I have been wrong-?

Oh gods...

His face paled as his mouth filled with bitterness-with fear-what could Seto Kaiba, with all his vast wealth and resources, do to him-

To their family-?

Seto smirked, a hint of velvet creeping into his voice. "I was going to report you to the papers-ruin the goodwill your father engendered-the goodwill your pathetic company is now squandering-" His gaze bored into the space above Marik's eyes-calm, detached, as if the threat he'd just uttered had been nothing more an innocuous statement of fact.

Marik gulped loudly, envisioning the shame he would feel-feeling it wash over him already, engulfing him-drowning him from below-

Ishizu stared up at the taller man, taking in his fine tuxedo, his cruel gaze-ruthless. Merciless in its intentions.

And he intended to hurt.

Hurt her brother...

Hurt her family...

A quiet rage curdled in her veins.

"However-" Seto's tone changed. Flattened. More banal-yet somehow more sinister. The monster sheathing its claws, ready to strike out at any moment he sensed things weren't going his way-

However...?

"I won't go public-but I'm taking you as a hostage, Ishtar." See how you like being punished-humiliated-made to suffer-

The word sparked through the air, burning Ishizu and Marik as it touched them. Sliding into their ears. Into understanding.

Hostage…

"No-" Ishizu found her voice, strangled and half-silent as it was, rippling with fear, with hurt, with sheer outrage-

I won't let him touch my brother-not my little brother-

I know what I need to do-

"One of you goes with me, or I ruin you-it's that simple."

Ishizu's heart pounded in her chest, her ears; she was sure the whole room could hear its butterflying pace. Before Marik could protest further, she slipped her hands from his and strode over to stand before Kaiba, trying to hide the trembling of her hands by placing them demurely behind her back.

She saw nothing in his eyes. Nothing. Soulless. Empty. Frost-

It almost frightened her more than did her proposition.

"Sister-" Marik wiped his nose with the back of his hand and tried to hide the beginnings of weeping-thick tears coating his words, fogging up his glasses, as he slumped into a chair, the fire in the fireplace flickering and nearly licking the backs of his legs. "Please, please don't do this-"

Ishizu bit the inside of her cheek as Seto sighed dramatically, pretending to be utterly put-upon. "Well?" he drawled, pretending to glance at his watch-simple but expensive. "I don't have all day, Ishtar…" He directed his gaze through her, towards her brother, whose entire body had been given over to anguish, blood roiling in his veins, feeling completely and pathetically ill at the prospect of this-this horrible man-

Taking his innocent sister-

I'm such a coward-

"I said I would go with you," Ishizu replied firmly, trying to keep a hair-thin quaver out of her voice.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "And please, do me the honor of looking at me when I address you." It's the least he could do-show some proper courtesy…

Seto flicked his eyes back to her-back to this rather lovely woman standing before him-and almost laughed, stifling the sound of good humor as it bubbled up his throat. "Feisty. I don't mind that." This could work out rather nicely for me-

Ishizu had to fight from rolling her eyes as he took in their living room once more in one calculating sweep of his eyes, same as he had done upon entry into their home-the pale yellow walls, low-hanging ceiling, small television, fireplace, worn couches-no doubt judging them further for their lack of opulent wealth-the thing Seto Kaiba was so used to. His lip curling, nose twitching as if he had caught a whiff of a foul scent.

It nearly infuriated her.

His lips curled into a cold smile as he dropped his eyes back to her, taking each and every detail of her face into his mind. Those large eyes. Thick lashes. Full lips. Her entire form shaking nervously, like a deer caught in unforgiving headlights. "Well, well, then, Miss Ishtar. I accept your offer. Now, if you'll come with me-the car is waiting outside…" He extended an elegant hand to her. Shake on it. Seal the deal.

This is, after all, a business transaction.

Ishizu paused for a moment, eyes widening as she considered him-his pale face, heartless eyes, fine black tuxedo that likely cost as much as her family's yearly income-and then studied his hand, with its manicured nails and smooth skin, and took it in her own, shaking softly at first, then with more conviction.

He'd clearly never worked a day in his life-his palm was impossibly silky against her own callused one.

Ishizu dropped his hand as soon as it was polite and clasped her own together once more. "May I go to my room to retrieve some personal effects, Mr. Kaiba?" Surely he cannot deny me this-

"No." He looked down his nose at her, watching intently as her eyes dulled for a moment. "Everything you require will be provided for you. Now, you may say goodbye to your brother-quickly-and then, we really must be going-" his voice, trailing off, already bored with this whole drawn-out situation once more. I clearly don't have time for this nonsense-hurry up, already…

Ishizu bit back a heated remark, cheeks flushing, swallowing shock at his unfathomably hard-hearted behavior, though, of course, what could she have expected at this point?

As Seto watched keenly, eyes revealing nothing, as Ishizu walked over to where Marik sat, hunched over, hot tears streaming down his face, and threw her arms around him, crouching low to press a kiss to his cheek. "Marik-I love you so much, all right-and I'll be fine-he won't hurt me-"

"How can you be sure?" Marik wailed quietly, dreading nothing more than the thought of his big sister-trapped, held captive by this horrible megalomaniac-

Ishizu swallowed hard, keeping her voice a low whisper. "If he does, Marik-then you go to the press. The papers. Tell them everything. All right?"

Marik sniffed. "N-not good enough-" He lifted his head balefully, shooting Seto a glare filled with as much raw hatred as he could muster. "You-Kaiba. You'd better promise that you won't hurt my sister-you-you-"

Monster.

At this, Seto bit back an angry retort. Slightly taken aback by the word Marik had left unsaid. I-I'm not a-I would never-that idiot-

He released a sigh, pretending that Marik's remark hadn't managed to strike him so. "You have my word. I won't touch her."

Well, it's true...

Ishizu kissed Marik's damp cheeks one last time before rising, smoothing out her long skirt, and turning towards Seto. Eyes grave but calm. Breathing even. Revealing nothing. Not to him. Not to her brother.

"Well, you said you were in a hurry, Mr. Kaiba."

The limousine zooming through the city streets, floodlights drowning all the buildings and roads in a painful yellow glow-

Seto looked over at Ishizu, whose hands were folded in her lap, legs demurely crossed at the ankles. He smiled a tiny, cold smile to himself.

Well-this went better than I intended-

Ishizu, feeling his insistent gaze on her, kept her head turned away from him, looking out of the window, seeing his hands and lower body in the reflection in the tinted glass.

As the car passed into a tunnel, throwing the backseat into deep, impenetrable darkness, Ishizu allowed herself a small, delicate upturn of the lips as well.

I'll be your hostage, Seto Kaiba-

I'll play your little game.

But for what you threatened to do to my family-to my brother-

I'm going to kill you.

I will.