Phil: 4000 Chet: 4000

  Compared to the bombastic flair of dueling inside the battle box out in the main room of the underground arena, the small room containing the ordinary steel table where Phil and Chet sat was almost painfully ordinary. There were no advanced systems to create holograms for their cards. There were no electrodes to attach and there were no TVs up above to display the situation to a crowd that did not exist.

  This duel went unknown to everyone other than the occupants of the small room – Phil, Chet, Jean, and Lumina. Other than those four, the only witness was the cold, uncaring water that rushed ceaselessly through the channel in the floor, bringing the chill of winter to numb the hands of the two duelists seated right next to it.

  Chet drew a card to start his turn. A lazy smile steadily bloomed across his face, one that oozed an easy sort of confidence that spoke leagues toward his faith to end the duel without much difficulty.

  “One monster in face-down defense position, and one card face-down. It’s your move~, try to make this interesting, don’t ya’ know?”

  Phil’s eyebrows rose. “Says the guy who just pulled the T-set pass move. Alright. I’ll bite. I summon Mystic Tomato (1400/1100) in attack mode. Going right on to my battle phase, Mystic Tomato attacks your face-down monster.”

  It was a little bit strange going from an environment with holograms to one with none. Phil almost expected the demonic tomato to leap out of its card frame to tear into Chet’s face-down monster with gusto. But nothing of that sort happened. These were only cards now, just cardstock and shiny paper with some ink and various colors splashed around to form the picture and words.

  “I said try and make this interesting!” Chet sneered. “My Crystal Seer (100/100) gets flipped face-up, which will activate its flip effect! I’ll be excavating the top two cards of my deck, adding one of them to my hand and putting the other on the bottom of my deck.”

  As Chet excavated, or in other words, turned over the top two cards of his deck for both players to see, Phil only spared a glance at the cards in favor of staring curiously at the flip monster on the field. The effect wasn’t much to note, nor were its stats.

  The fact that he knew for sure this was a card released around the back half of the GX-era sets was all the more interesting. This was by no means the first time he’d encountered a GX-era card since waking up in the park. Jean’s Master Monk, for example, was from The Lost Millennium – otherwise known as the very first set of GX. It was quite interesting indeed. If Crystal Seer could show up, did that mean the crazier shit from that era would randomly pop out of nowhere? Would one of his opponents randomly pull a fucking Cyber Dragon out of their ass while Phil was still stuck with a deck out of the year 2000? If that ever happened, it was hard to fully put into words how utterly fucked he would be without some serious luck.

  However, as Chet made the decision to add a continuous spell card called ‘D.D. Borderline’ to his hand and put a Mystical Space Typhoon at the bottom of his deck, Phil threw those alarming thoughts of his into the ‘deal with it later’ pile in the back of his head, situated right next to the ‘wing that motherfucker’ pile and the ‘fuck my life pile’.

  In part, it was due to the fact he literally couldn't do jack or shit about newer cards showing up. They would appear whenever they felt like appearing. The other part was that he also recognized D.D. Borderline, and now that he'd seen both that card and Crystal Sage, he knew precisely what deck Chet was playing.

  “You cheeky motherfucker.” Phil snorted as he ended his turn, half out of irritation and half out of a sense of dark, twisted amusement for what this game was about five seconds from turning into. "You're a stall player, aren't you? Let me guess… you also drink out of a toilet bowl?”

  Chet’s grin turned from a lazy one to a grin that was positively dripping with mockery.

  “Clever boy~. Yeah, it seems I am. See, this ain’t my first rodeo. Ain’t the first time I’ve had to knock an uppity duelist down a few pegs. See, all you honorable types, you’re all honor and no brains. Every time, right on the money, your decks are meant to focus on monsters brawling it out. Sure, you might have one or two cards that can destroy spells and traps, but…" Chet let out a bought of mocking laughter, "do you have three? Or four? Or even five?”

  Chet drew a card to start his turn. “Show me! You were talkin’ such big game earlier, yammering about how you can’t accept any orders unless I beat you in some ‘honorable’ bullshit! Where’s all that pride? Can’t you beat some low-down yakuza thug with your own ability? Show! Me!”

  In between a hyena-like laugh, Chet revealed a spell in his hand.

  “Continuous spell card activates! D.D. Borderline! While there are no spells in my graveyard, neither of us gets a battle phase! That's no matter to me, of course, because I summon Anti-Aircraft Flower (0/1600) in defense position, place a card face-down, and end my turn!"

  Phil wordlessly drew a card. He glanced over the continuous spell and the weird flower-gun monster. For this… he would need to peer into the mind of a stun burn player. It wasn’t overly difficult, as back on Earth he’d used a few of those decks before, all in the name of fucking with people at his local tournament scene. Already he could feel his IQ dropping to that of a braindead squirrel.

  The key was a simultaneous mixture of simple complexity. First step – restrict how the opponent can interact with your cards. That was easily achieved with Borderline, which completely removed destruction by battle from the equation. With it in play, unless Chet made a stupid move and disabled it himself, Phil would have to dig around in his deck for backrow removal.

  Second step – set up a method to burn. From what he could see from the card text, Anti-Aircraft Flower was simple. In return for tributing an insect monster on Chet’s field, 800 damage would be inflicted to Phil’s life points. Do that five times and the duel would be over unless any more factors were changed in the equation.

  Third step – enable the burn method. Chet needed insects on the field. That could be done in too many ways to count. The easiest way would be finding a method to shit out insect-type tokens, the hard way would be focusing on drawing into insect-type monsters to summon and tribute each turn.

  Fourth step – protect the castle. That would involve trying to stop the destruction of Borderline or the burn method. Doubtlessly Chet had a few other ‘floodgate’ cards in his deck as backup. Just about anything that outright restricted what Phil could do would be counted as a ‘floodgate’. Stuff like D.D. Borderline, maybe Gravity Bind (a continuous trap that would prevent all level four and higher monsters from attacking), and so on and so forth.

  This fourth step usually did come with a downside for the stall player, as often times protecting the castle would involve ignoring the opponent’s board state. Why bother interacting with their monsters if they can’t even attack? Thus the cards at Phil’s fingertips would build up turn by turn until the stall player fulfilled their win condition or Phil found the counterplay. Good stall players would expect this and pack some cards with negation effects away just in case. Average stall players would be blindsided by the counterplay.

  Phil had a feeling Chet was on the average end of the spectrum.

  With those steps in mind, Phil switched away from the thinking process of a braindead stun/burn player to that of a normal human being. Right now he had jack shit in ways to deal with any of Chet’s cards. Meaning, his only options were to thin out his deck as much as possible to increase his odds of seeing non-battle removal cards, and to keep his eyes glued to Chet’s every move. The second the greasy yakuza man made a mistake, Phil would capitalize on it.

  “I switch Mystic Tomato to defense position. Then I’ll throw down a face-down card and end my turn.”

  “Draw!” Chet said. Without even looking at the new card in his hand, he flipped over his face-down card. “How about this! Trap card, Good Goblin Housekeeping, activate! It lets me draw cards equal to the number of Good Goblin Housekeeping cards in my graveyard, plus 1! Then one card goes from my hand to the bottom of my deck.”

  “Meaning in total you draw one and return one.” Phil summarized. This was yet another card he was familiar with, a popular choice for stall decks in early Yu-Gi-Oh. It would start up slowly, but then with the next copy, Chet would be drawing two and putting back one, with the third copy drawing three and putting back one. A long-term investment for decent gains.

  “Exactly!” Chet snapped his fingers, joyful that Phil understood what was going on. “Now… what was that phrase you honorable types like to shout about?”

  Chet made a show of thinking, mockery still dripping from his every movement, before answering his own rhetorical question. “Ah yes! Looks like the heart of the cards is with me now~! I activate another continuous spell card, Jam Breeding Machine! Once per turn in my standby phase, this card will spawn a cute little aqua-type Slime Token (500/500) on my field. You know, all in the name of sprucing things up!”

  Phil couldn’t help but laugh. Jam Breeding Machine was a classic card, best known from the duel between Yami Yugi and Strings, where it was used to shit out tribute fodder each turn for Strings to summon the god card, Slifer the Sky Dragon. Of course, in this duel it did seem to have its real-world downside – while it remained on the field, Chet couldn’t even attempt to summon any other monsters besides Slime Tokens.

  However, as Chet moved to the end of his turn, Phil held out a hand.

  “During your end phase, I’ll go ahead and activate my trap card, Next to be Lost! By selecting my face-up Mystic Tomato on the field, I can send one copy of Mystic Tomato from my deck to my graveyard.”

  Chet nodded, clearly unknowing of Phil’s true intentions with the trap. Firstly, it meant a tiny bit of deck-thinning. One less card to stand between Phil and his chances of drawing a card to destroy D.D. Borderline. Secondly, it also meant a dark monster in the graveyard, enabling a potential Chaos Sorcerer play if he drew into it and found a way to get a light-attribute monster to join the fallen Mystic Tomato. From there, Chaos Sorcerer could banish the flower and earn Phil some breathing room.

  If, of course, Lady Luck smiled upon Phil. That was the key. He had to draw the right cards first.

  “Let’s see…” Phil muttered to himself as he drew a card. Chet still had a face-down card, along with the flower monster, a complete lockdown of the battle phase, and a way to shit out a Slime Token each turn. Not great, but not world-ending. “I’ll set one monster in face-down defense position and end my turn.”

  Chet’s grin grew all the wider. He leaned back in his chair, cocksure and confident.

  “I draw. In my standby phase, one Slime Token (500/500) is summoned to my field in attack position. Then… I activate my face-down trap! DNA Surgery! It lets me declare a monster type. Then, while it remains on the field, every monster on the field will become that type. My choice is insect!”

  The simple continuous trap card, showing three alien-like doctors in green lab coats, felt to Phil like a rotten cherry slapped right on top of a shit-filled ice cream sundae.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Phil griped. Jean, still watching from the side, winced visibly.

  “I’m a yakuza!” Chet laughed in glee, “What did you expect! I activate the effect of my Anti-Aircraft Flower, tributing my insect-type Slime Token to inflict 800 points of damage to your life points!”

  While there was no backlash, nor even an electrical shock, Phil still grimaced as his life point counter fell. Four more shots like this and the game would be over.

  Phil: 3200 Chet: 4000

  Yet, even knowing that fact. Even knowing that his soul was on the line. Even having to deal with a bullshit fucking lockdown deck.

  Phil couldn’t help but feel a hint of excitement fly up his spine. His back was now fully against the wall, in a way it could never truly be in the battle box a few rooms over.

  “Draw.” Phil said once Chet ended his turn. Flicking his eyes to the new card in his hand, he refrained from commenting. “On my field, I flip summon Bubonic Vermin (900/600), activating its effect to special-summon another copy of itself from my deck in face-down defense position.”

  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  Jean’s eyes narrowed. He was still leaning against the door to provide an early warning system if anyone tried to enter the room while the duel was ongoing. So far, no one had tried to open the door. The duel was still undisturbed.

  As for the duel itself… he had to admit, Chet's strategy, while dishonorable and vile, wasn't bad. Frankly, the deck was well-tailored to deal with people like Phil. Burn effects, avoiding battle, restricting what Phil could do, it was a nasty combination. Even Jean knew his own deck would be at a disadvantage – his best hope would be to bring out Sealmaster Meisei as fast as possible to use alongside the Talisman of Spell Sealing, rendering D.D. Borderline and Jam Breeding Machine completely useless while Meisei and the talisman were both on the field.

  But then, even as Chet’s turn began, allowing the man to summon yet another Slime Token and chip yet another 800 points from Phil’s life total, Jean remained silent.

  For he could see Phil’s eyes. That man, his friend and brother, still had steady eyes blazing with fighting spirit.

  It was something only an actual duelist would notice. And Chet, ahead as he was in the duel so far, was no actual duelist. He was nothing but a yakuza thug with a deck tailor-made to counter Phil’s strategy.

  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  Phil: 2400 Chet: 4000

  Phil ignored the life point counter. It didn’t matter. It could be dealt with later.

  “Draw.” Phil said. A smile bloomed on his face. “Ha. Ha! Yeah, this will work. Check this out!"

  He revealed a card in his hand, the very same card he'd just drawn a moment before. It was a spell card, blue from top to bottom. The card art showed a blue book covered in ancient hieroglyphics.

  "Fuck you, Chet! Eat my ass and gargle my fucking balls! Book of Moon activates! Targeting your Anti-Aircraft Flower to flip into face-down defense position!”

  Before Chet could voice his confusion, Phil began to explain with a look of smug superiority.

  "See, the fact is Chet, you'd know this if you were actually good at the game instead of being the stereotypical stun deck player. While Jam Breeding Machine is on the field shitting out tokens, you can't summon any monsters other than Slime Tokens. Do you know what a flip summon is? DING DING IT’S A SUMMON YOU DUMB BITCH!”

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Phil let out a satisfied breath, leaning back in his chair and watching as the flower was flipped face-down. He wasn’t out of the woods yet, but this netted him a nice chunk of time to deal with the other problems on the field.

  “After that, I’ll flip summon Bubonic Vermin, grabbing my third and final copy to slap onto the field in face-down defense position. I will also switch my original Bubonic Vermin to defense mode. Pass turn.”

  Chet’s turn began, and the man let out a dark laugh.

  “Well~, I wouldn’t count my chickens before they hatched if I were you~. After my Slime Token gets summoned in my standby phase, I activate a quick-play spell of my own, Emergency Rations. By sending any number of spells or traps I control to the graveyard, I gain 1000 life points for each one sent. I send Jam Breeding Machine and D.D. Borderline for a total of 2000 points in healing.

  Phil: 2400 Chet: 6000

  Phil rolled his eyes. On one hand, he finally had a battle phase. On the other hand, Chet could flip summon again.

  To make things even more irritating, Chet revealed another continuous spell card.

  “Hehe~, it’s a shame to lose D.D. Borderline, but oh well! Check this card out! I got it from some odd green-haired boy I met while out drinking one night. It was a thank-you present for not snitching to the bartender about him being underage! What a kid, am I right? He could really throw down those vodka shots, the little bastard drank me right under the table! Anyway, here’s Insect Barrier! While it remains on the field, your insect monsters can’t attack! And you know the funny thing? Because of DNA Surgery, all your monsters are insect-type!”

  “Oh for fucks sake!” Phil dragged his palm over his face. First Borderline, now Insect Barrier. If he ever made it to Duelist Kingdom and met Weevil, it would be difficult to resist the temptation to murder the greasy little bastard with his bare hands.

  “You know, if we were fast enough, we could just push Chet into the water channel… I bet he would drown pretty fast…” Lumina spoke up for the first time since the duel started, her voice half joking and half serious.

  “Don’t tempt me.” Phil muttered back quietly enough so that Chet couldn’t hear him.

  “How pitiful~,” Chet sneered, “All that effort to stop my flower bombardment going to waste. I flip summon my monster. Anti-Aircraft Flower’s effect activates, sacrificing my final Slime Token to hit you for another 800! Turn end!”

  Phil: 1600 Chet: 6000

  At this point, Phil knew if Chet summoned one more monster, it would enable two activations of the flower’s effect. One activation to sacrifice the other monster, and one to sacrifice the flower. In total, that would be 1600 points of damage. Enough to end the game.

  “Pitiful?” Phil matched Chet’s sneer with one of his own. “What the fuck do you think I’ve been busy thinning my deck for? Look at your field. You only have one monster. Me? I have four.”

  “Four? So what?” Chet shot back, “Insect Barrier protects me, or did you forget?”

  “Naw mate. See, I have a spell card for that. It’s time to Share the Pain!” Phil laughed, revealing the spell in his hand. “This card allows me to tribute one of my monsters in return for forcing you to tribute one of yours! I choose one of my Bubonic Vermin. Oh, look at that. Oopsie daisy, looks like you’re a dumb fuck who only has one choice to tribute. Shame, isn’t it? Get that idiotic flower off of my field.”

  Finally, Chet’s face paled slightly. He checked over his field. Everywhere he looked only served to reinforce the fact that the only monster he was able to tribute was the Anti-Aircraft Flower.

  “That’s the thing.” Phil grinned, “I’m not a complete moron. I have ways to deal with your monsters outside of battle.”

  The time limit placed on Phil’s shoulders by the flower was finally lifted for the time being.

  “I do suppose since I can’t attack, I’ll switch my remaining Bubonic Vermin monsters to defense, and end my turn with that.”

  “Draw.” Chet said with a hint of grimness in his voice. However, that same tone soon turned to glee. He leaned back, stretching his arms so that the head of the red, long-whiskered Eastern-style dragon tattooed on the bottom part of his neck poked out from past the collar of the orange Hawaiian shirt nestled beneath his suit jacket. “That’s the thing.” Chet repeated Phil’s words mockingly, “I’m not a complete moron either. If such a powerful, mighty, and honorable duelist such as yourself leaves my Insect Barrier/DNA Surgery combination untouched, why shouldn't I take advantage of it? I summon Mystic Lamp (400/300) in attack mode!”

  This new monster, its art showcasing a smoking golden lamp, was like what a genie out of a legend would reside in. Underneath the card art was one line of text.

  “This monster may attack your opponent’s life points directly…” Phil read out, doing so for not only his benefit, but also Jean’s and Lumina’s.

  “Correctamundo!” Chet cheerily snapped out, “You can’t attack, but that doesn’t stop me! Moving to my battle phase, my lamp attacks you directly!”

  Bypassing all of Phil’s defenses, the declared attack struck true, gouging out another small chunk from Phil’s life points.

  Phil: 1200 Chet: 6000

  “Then it’s back to me,” Phil muttered. One thing after another. In a way, he could truly appreciate how dedicated Chet was to scumbag tactics. Every time Phil managed to remove an obstacle, the rat bastard would throw up yet another one to block his path. Over and over again while taking bits and pieces out of Phil’s life points. Meanwhile, Chet’s life points were a staggering 6000. Back on Earth that would have been nothing. Here? It would take several turns to tear through that.

  Phil glanced over at the door. Jean was still watching, his face as calm and steady as ever. In this duel, taking place in a side room with no one else to know or care about, he still seemed certain that this was not the end. A sign of his ability and experience as a duelist, perhaps. Not for the first time, Phil found himself with a mild curiosity over the man’s past. It was none of his business, not unless Jean himself decided to speak of it, but little actions like these still gave out hints if one was paying attention.

  Lumina, too, was calm aside from her joking offer to help kill Chet. As always, she watched with a look of mild amusement on her face, sipping away at her always-present thermos of tea as if she was merely waiting for Phil to suddenly flip the script and end the duel with a bang.

  “Draw. I summon a monster in face-down defense mode and pass turn.”

  Well, Phil would give them some entertainment, courtesy of the play he’d just set up. The play Chet was too inexperienced to see coming a mile away.

  Once Chet’s turn began, the man held up his hand, the one missing its pinky finger, and chopped it forward like a general ordering his army to charge forward no matter what they faced.

  “Mystic Lamp, take off another 400 points from his life total!”

  Phil: 800 Chet: 6000

  The yakuza seemed entirely content to whittle Phil’s life points away turn by turn with the lamp, hiding behind his Insect Barrier/DNA Surgery combo to prevent any sort of reprisal.

  Then it was Phil’s turn once again.

  “Another newbie mistake.” Phil clicked his tongue in mock admonishment. “Not even trying to interact with my field? Fucking noob. See, the thing is, that monster I set last turn… I’m gonna tribute it and another one of my Bubonic Vermin to summon Sengenjin (2750/2500) to my field in attack position.”

  Chet smirked, immediately moving to point out the obvious. “Another monster who can’t attack, since DNA Surgery turns it from a beast-warrior to an insect.”

  “Correct. Do ya’ know what’s also correct? That face-down I tributed, it was Shining Angel. It’s also a light attribute monster. I have a light and a dark in my graveyard now. By banishing Shining Angel, alongside that Mystic Tomato I sent from my deck near the start of the duel, I special summon Chaos Sorcerer (2300/2000). I’ll use its effect to banish your Mystic Lamp from the game. Get fucked bozo.”

  Once again Chet’s field was left empty of monsters, the only thing between him and Phil being Insect Barrier. Once again, Phil passed his turn without any further action.

  "Big monsters huh? Well, attack points don't matter if you can't even attack!" Chet snapped back. "Mystic Lamp was only one of my special monsters, let’s see how you deal with another, one that’s almost twice as strong! I summon Servant of Catabolism (700/500)! Servant, make a direct attack!”

  Phil: 100 Chet: 6000

  "Not bad," Phil said. "Not bad at all. Even if I banish your monster, all you need to do is draw one more burn card or another direct attacker. I give my full marks to whoever built that deck for you, it's certainly an interesting one.”

  "I feel like there's a 'but' hidden there," Chet replied. “And I think I know what it is. You duelists always go on about the ‘heart of the cards’. Yelling about it left and right when you get your back in the corner. So, tell me, is that heart in the room with us now~?”

  “Dunno, but here’s the benefit of thinning my deck out so much. I draw, it doesn’t matter what I see, because here’s the game-ender. In my main phase, I activate a spell card called Spiritualism. It’s gonna let me choose a spell or trap on your field to return to your hand. Please, Chet my good sir, put that DNA Surgery back in your hand pronto.”

  Jean let out a burst of laughter as Chet’s face soured like he’d been force-fed a lemon.

  “Oh, would you look at that.” Phil said in a deadpan voice, “My monsters aren’t insects anymore. Insect Barrier can’t stop them. Oh, look at this. I summon Giant Rat (1400/1450). Oh, what do ya’ know? I switch my Mystic Tomato and final Bubonic Vermin to attack mode. Who could have seen the consequences of leaving them on my field this entire time? Wow, crazy huh?”

  Every single one of Phil's words was condescending, dripping from top to bottom with a nice mixture of sarcasm, sneering arrogance, and the type of dreadful irritation that made even Lumina's hands itch to strangle Phil. This version of Phil was quite the spitting image of the man who'd once been shot in his local tournament for playing a degenerate deck and being an absolute ass about it.

  “Battle phase.” Phil’s voice returned to that deadpan state. “Chaos Sorcerer kills your Servant of Catabolism, rocking you for 1600 points of battle damage. Vermin hits directly for 900. Tomato hits directly for 1400. Sengenjin hits directly for 2750. Wow, look at that. 6,650 damage in one turn. Whoops, guess you should have sent more off of Emergency Provisions, don’t ya’ think? Another 1000 points would might have saved you.”

  Phil: 100 Chet: 0

  Chet sat back in his chair, the sardonic smile once more adorning his face.

  “My my~. You really are a pro.”

  Phil shrugged. "Eh, there's always a bigger fish. Anyway, before we get down to business, there's something that's been nagging at me for a bit. I was having a tour of this grand place earlier, and why the hell do you guys have some sort of walk-in freezer down here?”

  Phil, of course, purposely failed to mention that he had done much more than simply see the outside of it. He had personally walked in to see the horrific sight with his own eyes.

  Chet took on an air of bemusement. "Sorry, sorry. Can't say much about that myself. That's something the boss set up. I haven't had any reason to head on inside it. You’d do best to follow my example. It could be filled with tasty ice cream, or it could be something that we might need to… shut your mouth over~.”

  “Your boss? I’ve heard a few people mention the boss.”

  Toward Phil’s question, Chet’s body seemed to lose a slight bit of the easygoing air it once had.

  “The boss, of course~. You’ll meet him soon. After this, in fact. I’ll be taking you to him myself to pay respects to him.”

  Phil raised an eyebrow, purposely brushing over the whole ‘taking you there myself’ bit. “He’s not here?”

  “Naw. Not this dump.” Chet replied with a mysterious smile. “The boss has his own place. A nightclub called ‘Blue Friday’. Keeps out the riffraff, ya’ get me?”

  Phil’s breast pocket began to wiggle as Chet stood up.

  “Now then… come with me to pay respects to Boss Guriko. After that, you’ll take your dive on the stage.”

  Phil had wondered if this would happen.

  “Even though I won?” Phil clarified.

  Chet shrugged halfheartedly. “Hey, I ain’t ever professed to be an honorable duelist.” Before Phil could get another word in edgewise, the yakuza’s hand dipped into his pocket to pull something out – which revealed itself with a ‘snick’ to be a switchblade.

  “Of course, you can always refuse~.”

  Phil’s pocket moved again. But this time, there was no flash of green skin. Instead, it was a blur of white cloth that shot from the side of the room. Lumina, an easy smile still on her face, flickered off her invisibility, rushing forward to snatch the knife out of Chet’s hands. Even an experienced yakuza like Chet was left stunned momentarily by the sudden rush of a woman who had not been there a moment before. The switchblade rested easily in Lumina’s palm, no different to her than any form of short knife she’d used before.

  Chet only had time to get out a strangled half-shout of surprise before Lumina's free hand wrapped around his mouth, and her knife hand dragged the blade across his throat. It slipped through the skin easily enough – only pausing midway through as the blade hit the gristle and cartilage making up Chet's windpipe. That too was only a momentary obstacle. One flex of Lumina's biceps allowed the knife to saw through the rest of Chet's throat in a smooth, practiced motion, releasing a spray of dark red blood that painted the ceiling and part of the wall. Once more the knife blade was caught, snagging on an artery on its way out of Chet’s neck.

  But the damage was done. Releasing Chet, Lumina stepped back, tossing the knife into the water to let it rush away before her form faded away into nothing. Not even a single drop of blood stained her dress or her skin. Moreover, she’d angled Chet’s body so that Phil and Jean were able to avoid the sprays of blood as well. It was entirely practiced, smooth, and without a hint of hesitation.

  Chet sunk to the floor; both of his hands clutched around his neck in a futile attempt to keep his severed arteries from dumping his lifeblood over the floor. His mouth opened and closed like a fish dumped on land – which in a way, he might have almost been. Every breath of air Chet took failed to enter his lungs, slipping out past his hands through his ruined throat to rush back out into the room.

  Phil’s pocket wiggled a third time. This time, a small green tadpole slid out of it to 'plop' onto the floor with a wet smack. Like Chet's, its mouth opened and closed like a fish, but the tadpole's eyes were nothing but pink voids of unending hunger and bloodlust that could not be reasoned with.

  Both Jean and Phil took a full step back. The tadpole wiggled closer. Its form shimmered, and two tiny little human-like arms, no more than a half inch each in length, sprouted from its side to aid the tadpole in dragging itself across the floor toward Chet.

  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  “Sorry mate, you did bet your soul. Shoulda’ thought about that before you burned my friend’s place down.” To Chet, it sounded like Phil was speaking from underwater. His voice was distorted and blurred, nearly unrecognizable.

  Chet’s breathing became staggered. His mind spun, going into shock from the sudden brutal violence. But then, no sooner than the shock had begun, it ended. Something… damp touched his left foot. The touch felt like it was clearing his mind, even as blood pumped out of between his fingers and out of his neck like a fire hose gone wild.

  Whatever had touched his foot was managing to keep him lucid during his final breaths. He was going to die here. That knowledge… perhaps it was the artificial lucidity, but if Chet had the breath to do it, he would have laughed. Or not. Perhaps he still would have tried to scream for help. To warn his brothers in the arena of the madman watching his death not with fear, or disgust, but complete and utter disinterest.

  Then the pain set in. No comparison could be made between this pain and how the knife had felt when the woman in white ripped it through his throat.

  This pain was far, far worse. Chet tried to scream, but his lips wouldn’t obey him. Nor did he have any breath in his lungs to scream with. He tried to run, but his legs defied him. He tried to crawl, even removing his hands from around his neck to claw at the floor, but they would not obey him.

  Something was tearing away at his feet with a countless number of razor-sharp teeth. But it was not only his feet. Soon he couldn’t feel his feet at all. Then the sensation climbed to his legs. Still there was that feeling of perfect clarity in Chet’s mind! He could feel every second of it, of being eaten alive, dying while not being able to fully die.

  It finally came into view. A tadpole, one no larger than a grown man’s fist. It was sitting on his stomach. There was nothing past it. His legs were gone but still he lived on. Again, a scream threatened to bubble up in Chet’s mouth, but again, he had no air to create that scream. A human-like tongue slipped out of the tadpole’s mouth, as if it was a starving man licking his lips before a gourmet feast.

  If Chet had thought the pain of having his legs eaten was the worst he’d ever felt, even that could not compare to what it felt for the tadpole to dive through the skin in his stomach.

  He could feel it moving around in his chest.

  It swam through his lungs like a diver in a pool. It took bites out of his stomach, his liver, his kidneys.

  And finally, Chet’s mind snapped.

  It was enough to fully suppress the feeling of lucidity in his mind. Chet’s surroundings darkened. His eyes drooped close. His hands fell away from his mangled throat. But this time, there was no more blood to spray out at the ceiling.

  The last thing Chet saw was a tadpole, now the size of a grown man’s head, emerging from where his chest used to be, staring at his head with those same famished eyes.

  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

  On the floor where there once had been a dying man, there was now only a puddle of blood no more than a fingertip deep. The room was silent. Phil extended his hand to let the much larger D.3.S. Tadpole hop onto his arm. Its body was already beginning to shrink, going from the size of a human head to that of a closed fist. Judging from the eagerness of the tadpole, that size change seemed like less of a loss of magic, and more because it wanted to fit back in Phil’s pocket again. The aura of power, that was still very much present around the creature.

  “Merde, I’ve seen horrid sights like this before, but I do not think I can eat today.” Jean said in an odd voice. He had remained completely silent during Chet’s execution, merely watching with a dispassionate gaze tinged with a hint of disgust.

  Convulsing one last time, the tadpole vomited up a leather wallet and a stack of 40 cards onto Phil’s other hand, finally being small enough to fit back into its favorite pocket.

  “I don’t blame you,” Phil shrugged back in response. “Took me a while to get used to seeing it. Helps that the bastard fucking deserved it. He was going to screw us over. I wouldn’t give that fate to any ordinary person.” He pocketed the cards and wallet to look through later. Mercifully, both were free of bloodstains.

  “And he was involved with the arson.” Jean added. The Frenchman’s fists were clenched in anger just from the memory of that fact.

  Phil’s eyes tightened. There was also that.

  “I think I’m still pissed off.” Phil said.

  Jean nodded in agreement.

  “Wanna go make a customer complaint to that boss of his?”

  “Oui. Perhaps they shall also offer… restitution? Or perhaps we shall take it ourselves. I have no doubt that a yakuza boss would lack a safe with lots and lots of yen inside.”

  “Let’s see…” Phil absentmindedly stroked his beard with his hands. “Blue Friday, right? Can’t be that many clubs in Domino called that.”

  With that decided, Phil, Jean, and Lumina walked out of the room, letting the door close behind them with a 'click' that echoed in the empty hallway.

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