Yu-Gi-Oh! DF Book Seven: Their Most Dangerous Enemy - Prologue

That's right, this book has a freakin' prologue biatches! Dang, I feel like a legit writer... Anyway, this is technically the first chapter of the next Yu-Gi-Oh! DF book that I mentioned last week in part four of John v. Yugi. I decided to go ahead and post it alongside Reaper after all! This book is my first real and legit attempt at creating backstory for my characters, intrigue, and foreshadowing, as I really hope this prologue conveys. I know I don't take this story as serious as I could. On some level I can't take it too seriously. It's a Yu-Gi-Oh! story, after all. This book is the first one where I really, I think, try to construct a serious narrative involving these characters. I explore their motivations, and their histories, and while I won't say whether the trend of everyone surviving these books will continue or not, this story is definitely not without risk and sacrifice and real consequences. Things change after this book, and set up for the next one, and for the eventual sequel series.

I hope someone out there enjoys this book. I certainly enjoyed writing it, as it involved building a really involved fanon around the Card Professors' Guild from Yu-Gi-Oh! R which reconciles the events of R with the events of the anime, and the events of my books. I honestly haven't had this much fun writing fanon since writing Yu-Gi-Oh! DA. This particular fanon also heavily involves Karen, and Maxamillion Pegasus (!!!) so I'm particularly excited. Whether or not it all quite works out, I'm not really sure, but I think it works out well enough, and as I said, I enjoyed writing it.

Oh, and Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays and all of that...

Prologue

Many years ago, two men sat across from each other at a smoky, black rectangular table. Darkness ringed them in, spreading between them like mist that made it hard for them to see each other’s faces. One man was maybe twenty-six or twenty-seven. Even seated, he looked tall and lanky, with hair so dark brown that it was almost black, which hung long, to his shoulders, and covered most of the right side of his face including one of his almost-black eyes. He glared across at his opponent, full of arrogant pride.

His opponent, a man a few years younger with a day-old beard and unkempt brown hair, and eyes almost the same color, looked desperate as he stared down his foe, and the huge creature in the shadows behind him, with nothing of his own to protect him. He looked down at the hand of Duel Monsters cards which he held, waiting for his opponent to finish his turn, wishing with everything that he was that his next draw would bring something that could save him.

“Surely you can see,” the older man said, dripping condescension, gesturing to his opponent’s empty field, “that you’ve lost this. Clearly I’m the stronger Duelist, and you were a fool to oppose me, even if our Dueling styles are fairly similar. I have better cards. I have more skill. There’s nothing you can do.”

His smile turned sympathetic, “I can still end this game without hurting you. Maybe if you surrender to me now and apologize, and beg me to let you go, I will end the Shadow Game without assigning a Penalty. You can go on with your life knowing that you failed to stop me, and that you’ll never see your dear Shannon again. I’ll even let your brother go, though I’m not sure if you’ll want him part of your life in…that state.”

The younger man’s right fist clenched, and the grip of his left hand tightened on his cards, but he kept calm, and after a moment he relaxed again. He would never win if he allowed his opponent to get him angry and impede his ability to plan. His expression hardened, and he focused his entire mind like a laser on the duel before him, ignoring completely his opponent’s words. He had too much at stake to make a mistake now, and he had lost too much to lose any more.

He drew his card, and without word or expression, He placed a card on the table before him. Behind him, in the Shadows, a huge form emerged with a bellowing roar, and despite that it was smaller than the foe’s beast, the arrogant older man actually looked afraid.

Years later, a young boy walked home one evening. Despite the sun’s relatively high place in the sky, it was dim outside, and overcast. If one were to look outside, they would get a sense that it was cold, and that it might begin to rain at any time. A young boy opened the front door of his medium-sized two story house in a modest suburb and stepped from the cool, unappealing exterior into a warmly-lit living room, to the smell of dinner cooking.

He tossed his torn jacket in the coat closet by the door, and tried to hide his face behind his unruly brown hair, to make the bruising ringing one of his dark brown eyes less obvious. He failed, however, and as soon as he stepped into the kitchen, where his young sister, a slight girl with curly blond hair down to her shoulders, and his mother, a woman with red-brown hair and soft features, were already seated, his mother took notice. She tilted her head and frowned, “We’re going to talk about this after dinner.”

Reluctantly the boy nodded, and he sat with his family, loading up his plate and eating in silence. This process had become fairly routine by now, but he still wasn’t a fan of it. At least, he thought, my mom gets it. Some peoples’ parents don’t listen to them at all. I guess my mom is pretty cool for that.

Once dinner was over, the boy slunk to his room and dropped down onto his bed. He didn’t bother turning on the lights. He rarely did. The dark and he were pretty familiar with one another, after all. The boy waited, and after a few minutes, his mom stepped inside and sat down beside him. She sat silently at his side for a few minutes, and then, finally, she sighed.

“What happened this time?” she asked.

“Same as last time, mostly,” the boy answered. “I didn’t say a word to them, I just minded my own business, but then they started picking on this other kid who’s kinda chubby and wheezes a lot, and I’d had enough. I told them to stop, but they didn’t. Th-they said something that got me mad and I just lost it for a minute or two.”

“Well that’s it,” said the boy’s mom, “we talked about this. I know how much you love going out to the park and dueling with your friends, but no more. You’ll have to find somewhere else, at least for a while.”

“It’s okay, Mom,” the boy replied, “the other Duelists and me decided to use the old part of the park from now on anyway.” His mom looked thoughtful at this.

“Okay,” she said, “you can give that a shot. But please, you have to avoid getting into confrontations like this. And no ‘Fighting is how I met my best friend so it can’t be too bad’. I’m still angry at you for that little stunt, even if I do like your friend Tucker.”

“I know, Mom,” the boy told her, his head lowered, and his eyes looking in every direction but hers. “I’m trying, I really am, it’s just what they said. I couldn’t help it.”

His mom paused. She looked worried, as if she was wrestling with a dilemma. She knew that her son needed to talk about what had happened, but she also felt that she knew what had been said to elicit his violent reaction, and it was a topic that she’d tried for a long time to avoid. She was convinced that the puzzle was hers to solve, and so she was caught off guard when her son asked her directly, “Mom, where’s my dad?”

“That’s what they said to set you off,” she surmised, “that your dad ran off on us?”

The boy nodded.

The boy’s mother sighed deeply, and after a pause, during which her son’s expectant eyes never left her face, she finally said, “I don’t know where he is. But he didn’t leave us, not the way that those kids think. He left to take care of something important, and he never came back. There was never any indication that he was hurt or anything, so the police never did anything, and I just had to live with it. You were too young to realize that something was wrong, and your sister hadn't been born yet. It was a hard time, and I didn’t have anyone to talk to.

“Eventually,” she continued, a tear glistening in her eye, “I got so used to not talking about your dad that once you were old enough to talk about him with me, I still never mentioned him. It-it hurts to talk about him, and I guess I didn’t want to feel that hurt even if it meant that I made you feel like you didn’t have a right to know about him at all. I’m sorry.”

She put her hand on her son’s shoulder, “Know this, though: your dad was a great man. He went through a lot in his life, and he never let it get him down. He was strong and noble, and really brave, and he loved you very much. You are a lot like him, actually. It was his idea to name you John. ‘A strong name that says what it means without being flashy’, he said. He looked like you, and he was a Duelist like you are.”

“He was?” John asked. He’d never have guessed that. He hadn’t even known that there were Duelists when his dad had still been around.

“Oh, yeah,” his mom replied with a reminiscent smile, “there was a beta release of the game the year he and I met, probably two years before you were born. Maximillian Pegasus wanted to test the latest version of the game in real world conditions. People loved it so much that very little ended up being changed for the final release a few years later, and that was mostly rules stuff from what I understand.”

“Was he strong?” John asked.

“He was really strong,” his mom answered, smiling down at him and tweaking his nose, “but I think you’re probably stronger.”

The conversation ended after that. They both wanted to talk more on the subject, but for now this had been enough. Then, suddenly, John’s mother seemed to have an idea, and she stood up quickly, saying, “I have something for you. Something that I think you should have.”

She left, returning after a minute with a slightly shabby black button up overshirt slung over her arm. She stood in John’s doorway and tossed it to him. He held it up in front of him. It was several sizes too big.

“That was your dad’s,” his mom explained. “He wore it practically everywhere. He wore it to every duel he ever played. I don’t know why he left it behind the last time he left, but he did. I think he would want you to have it.”

John stood up and put the overshirt on. It hung to just above his knees. He felt different with it on, like a person with a legacy to live up to. He imagined that his dad was the kind of person who would never have gotten into a fight with some bullies unless he had no choice, and so that’s what John himself resolved to do from that day forward. He felt like something inside of him hated that idea, but he remained firm and determined. And he managed it. He got into more fights after that, but only if he didn’t have a choice.

“Looks good,” his mom said. “Now get some sleep, mister. It’s late, and you have school tomorrow.”

John nodded. His mom left him alone, and he climbed into bed, still wearing the old black overshirt. He slept with it on, and he has worn it almost every day since. That overshirt became the embodiment of his father’s legacy in his mind, and wearing it was his reminder to live up to that legacy and be a good, brave person. It didn’t hurt, either, that having that overshirt with him made him feel like he finally had a part of his father in his life.

Many years later a young man with black hair, in black clothes, with dark circles under his dark eyes, collapsed to his knees, sweat rolling down his face. He braced himself against the ground at his feet, the black Duel Disk that he wore on his arm scraping the concrete. Above him, in the dark structure in which his latest battle had taken place, holographic monsters faded from within the shadows around him as his Life Points dropped to zero, and he was defeated. His opponent, a tall and lanky young man with hair so dark that it was almost black, long enough that his bangs cast a shadow over his almost as dark right eye, stepped forward and stood over him with a condescending grin.

“Depre,” he said, “you, as the current leader of the Card Professors’ Guild, are supposed to be the strongest Duelist in North America, and yet you were nothing to me. Still, I think you should be strong enough for my needs.”

His fallen opponent, Depre Scott, looked up at him and smiled wryly, “Maybe we were the strongest once, but there are several stronger Duel Monsters teams now, one in particular that’s just as large. Why don’t you go bother them?”

The other young man’s grin widened, “That’s a good question. Why do you think I’m here, dueling you, winning the title of Number One Card Professor from you? I’m after that one particular team, and I need an army of comparable size to take them on. This is the job that I bring before you as your leader.”

Depre was struck, “Are you serious? You can’t be serious!”

Real fear flashed in his dark eyes, “Do you know the things that they’ve done? Do you know the magic that they are rumored to wield? If we attack them we’ll bring him upon us. Their former leader, and the former world champion. Do you know what he’s rumored to be capable of? What they say he’s done all on his own? It’s why we’ve never taken a job against them before, and why we don’t intend on ever taking one. The Guild doesn’t involve itself with magic anymore…”

“Hence why I am not here merely to hire you,” the young man replied. “I am in control of the Guild now. No matter the policies of the Guild, if I have a job that I feel should be brought to attention, the entire Guild must hear it.”

“But-.”

“And of course I know,” the young man continued, a look of hunger flashing in his eyes. “I know all about his power. About what he’s done. I want it. I want that power for my own! With the Card Professors’ Guild behind me, I will have the numbers to defeat the Duel Force. I will tear down their leader, and I will take the power of the Soul of Darkness. With it, I will gather the other Duelist’s Souls to me, and I’ll become the most powerful being alive. And once I do, I’ll finally have my revenge!”

The young man didn’t laugh maniacally or anything, but as Depre Scott looked into his new leader’s eyes, he saw something flashing there, beneath the surface, which looked a lot like a madness that he’d seen before in his own reflection: the madness of obsession. This man meant to get what he wanted, and there was little, if anything, that Depre could do about it. He removed the black Duel Disk from his arm and handed it to the new Number One, and he asked, “Alright then, how should we start?”

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