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dillian_winjaTitle: Malik's Second Chance
Characters: Yami no Malik x Pegasus J. Crawford
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Desperate to give her brother a second chance after Battle City, Isis Ishtar calls on an old acquaintance in America to take him in. Will the move bring Pegasus and Malik the new hope they both need, or will they still be trapped, repeating old patterns?
Author's notes: This story takes place after Battle City, and before the Doma Arc, and all characters are of consenting age. Concrit and comments are appreciated!
Yu-Gi-Oh is the property of Konami and Kazuki Takahashi, and this work is only a very appreciative celebration, from which we hope to derive no profit of any kind.
California was 26 hours away by plane. It was an unnatural-feeling way to travel; Malik was going halfway across the globe, not at a normal pace, like when he’d sailed to Japan, not at speeds a person could control, like he might with a car or a motorcycle, but traveling at hundreds of miles per hour. At this pace he could go around the world in two days, since one day was taking him halfway around. -- He almost wished he were going, all the way around and back home, to end up with with Isis and Rishid, where no matter how ugly the situation was, at least it was familiar.
In California, he didn’t know what he was going to find. He told himself that there was no way it could be all that different from what he’d seen in Domino City, -- He thought back, visualizing what Domino had been like: He remembered the humidity, the streets that felt like they were crowded with people his age. He remembered pop music that seemed to be playing everywhere, restaurants and stands, selling unfamiliar Japanese food, and coin-operated machines on every corner, selling soda, beer, and in one memorable instance, underwear. Nothing could have been more different from Cairo, much less from the empty desert where he’d grown up. How much more different could California possibly be?
And finally the interminable flight was over. The plane was coming down, through cloud cover that looked like it was never going to end. They were landing, and the bright sunshine he’d expected never had come back; the windows all along the interior of the plane all showed the same dark-grey color, with no light was coming in at all. Hadn’t Isis told him it would be morning when he arrived? Early morning, wasn’t that what she’d said? But it looked like night out there on the tarmac.
Then he was being bundled out into a crowded airport, where a grim man in sunglasses took charge of him right away before he could even look around and get his bearings. A long walk, jostling crowds the entire way, a ride in the backseat of a sleek, late-model grey sedan, the streets outside wet with rain, the colors of the storefronts muted, in the grey, morning weather. Malik was delivered to a large building a few miles out of town, Industrial Illusions corporate headquarters apparently, and hurried upstairs to meet the CEO, Pegasus J. Crawford.
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Crocketts wasn’t pleased, but neither was he particularly surprised, when he caught sight of the Egyptian boy: He’d done babysitting duty before, not for a while, not since Pegasus had been a teenager himself, but kids didn’t change much, did they? Malik’s exotic appearance didn’t surprise him; it was hard for someone to outdo Pegasus when it came to exotic appearance, even if they were wearing blue jeans and a sleeveless black t-shirt, and practically glittering with gold jewelry. His untidiness was a bit of a shock though. Pegasus wouldn’t have gone around with his hair uncombed like that if he were escaping from a burning building, much less just because he’d just gotten off a plane.
This didn’t change his cold expression though, as he eyed Malik up and down. “You’re not dressed properly for an office.”
The boy scowled. Then he opened his mouth. You could never tell with children, what he was going to say, and probably the odds were better that he was going to spew defiance of some sort, rather than apologizing, which was what he ought to do, but Crocketts gave him the benefit of the doubt. “Never mind,” he told Malik. “You’ll do for today. We have to hurry. Mr. Crawford is waiting.”
”I’ve got Isono in baggage to pick up your suitcase,” he added as he hurried toward the entrance of the terminal, leaving Malik to follow. Behind him, the boy could have been doing anything. He could have been arguing, or swearing under his breath. -- He could have been readying himself to throw a punch at Crocketts’ head, and it wouldn’t have fazed the ex-Chief of Security. Actually, he would rather have liked that last. Having an excuse to punch out the rumpled little brat would have made a refreshing start for his day. He didn’t leave Malik time enough to do anything though, just rushed the two of them out, and into his grey company car. Pegasus was waiting across town, and no matter if he had become less dictatorial after the accident that had happened on Duelist Kingdom, he still wasn’t a man who tolerated anything but full performance from his employees.
Across town, from the airport, to the prime real estate location of Industrial Illusions Headquarters, on a cliffside overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Crocketts led the way, glancing back only when absolutely necessary to see that Malik was following, and managed to deliver his young charge outside Master Pegasus’ office door right on schedule. It was all about knowing the best routes to avoid the morning traffic. He did not give the boy any credit for their having managed to get here so quickly of course, even though Malik had at least, cooperated fairly well on their way over.
Instead, he eyed him, expressionless as always, behind his sunglasses. “Behave yourself when Mr. Crawford calls you in,” he told him. “Try to make a good impression.”
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“You’re late.” “You’re not dressed properly for the office.” “Behave yourself.” What was this, a babysitter? He wasn’t a kid anymore, to let people talk to him like this. Even Isis didn’t do it. Malik wanted to open his mouth and retort, but he held back. It was better to think before saying something in return, and regretting it later. He didn’t want to build up more anger and resentment, did he? So he kept his mouth shut, no matter how hard it was. He didn’t want to disappoint his sister and his brother, and he was sure that Pegasus J. Crawford wouldn’t hesitate for a moment to kick him back to Egypt if he did something the man didn’t like. Malik Ishtar wasn’t a quitter; the thought of going home with his head hanging in shame was horrible.
Crocketts was fast, his movements brisk and energetic, and Malik actually had trouble keeping up. He was so focused on the man that he barely got time or opportunity to look around, and take in the magnificent scenery of the building’s location, and the fancy interior decoration. He was almost out of breath when they finally reached their destination, after a walk that felt longer than the trek from his old home in the desert to Cairo.
.
Finally, they stopped though, Crocketts knocking on an office door that didn’t look much different from all the other doors they had passed. “Wait here,” he said, entering the office himself, and leaving the door ajar. Malik leaned in a little, to hear what was said.
“The boy is here,” Crocketts spoke as if he were talking about a disposable object. “Would you like to see him now, Mr. Crawford? Have you got time before your meeting?”
“A little,” Pegasus’ voice came through the open door. “You were very prompt, Crocketts.” A confused murmur, that was Crocketts’ voice, followed, and then Malik heard Pegasus again. “Have my secretary tell LJN I’ll be late,” he said, “not more than ten or fifteen minutes. I want to talk Malik before he gets to work.”
Malik’s view of the office was limited, just what he could see through the half-open door. Movement from inside told him someone was coming back to the door, but he couldn’t make out right away who it was. Then as the figure came closer, the flash of colored clothing made it clear: This wasn’t Crocketts, who was wearing a black suit, so it must be Pegasus. He opened the door the rest of the way, and Malik could see him fully.
The American’s face brought back vague memories. Pegasus’ face, half-hidden by his long, silver hair, was familiar, in kind of a distant way.. He remembered seeing him when he’d visited the Pharaoh’s tomb to sketch the carvings on the walls. Initially curious at this visitor who’d come from so far away, and hoping he would have stories to tell about city life, or anything more interesting than his own tombkeeper’s existence, Malik had lost interest soon enough once he realized that all Pegasus was there for, was to draw as many of the ancient Monsters as he could. But he remembered his face, the smile that looked pleasant and almost warm when you first saw it, but that ultimately told nothing about Pegasus’ thoughts or intentions.
Pegasus looked at him. “Malik?” he said. “Come into my office. Won’t you have a seat? Crocketts,” here he glanced at the dark-suited assistant, “was just leaving.”
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Not waiting for Malik to sit, Pegasus returned to his own side of the desk and sat down. He rested his elbows on the gleaming mahogany surface and looked the boy (the young man?) up and down, feeling …uncomfortable, maybe even as uncomfortable as Malik looked. He was the head of a business. That was his job. After what had happened on Duelist Kingdom, when he’d gambled everything, and lost (and had to face up to the darkness in his own soul as well), it was almost a lifeline as well. It was what gave his life meaning. He didn’t have supernatural power, he didn’t have someone to love, but he had Industrial Illusions, he had Duel Monsters, which was kicking the ass of every other game in the world, and he could make a life of them both at the top if he had to.
What he wasn’t, was a daddy, or a big brother. -- He wasn’t the kind of guy most people would choose as a mentor. Didn’t busyness count against a man? Or a dark past that verged on the criminal? Just the thought of having a boy, any boy, in his charge, gave him misgivings, that he pushed back only with an effort of will. Then, when he looked at the boy Isis had sent him they all came flooding back.
‘Don’t you ever smile?’ that’s what he wanted to ask Malik, or perhaps, ‘why not comb your hair for a change?’ But that would be rude of course, wouldn’t it? And so instead, “welcome to Industrial Illusions,” he said. “As long as you’re willing to work, you’ll get along quite well.”
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“Thank you, Mister Crawford,” Malik said, following Isis’ instructions to say ‘thank you’ to everything and call Pegasus ‘Mister Crawford’ and not ‘Pegasus’ to his face. If he was going to be his mentor, some respect was due. He didn’t like it though; the thought of being dependent of this man, or anyone else for that matter, was hateful to him. But Isis was right: If he really wanted to make something of his future, and go to a university, he had to of learning to catch up. Being able to recite old scriptures backwards and forwards wasn’t going to help him in the real world.
This was his first time in an office at all, much less an incredible, spacious, “I AM THE BOSS HERE,” office like Pegasus’. Malik couldn’t help but feel intimidated. What he also felt, was nervous. And he wondered, what would his new job entail?
“I’m willed to work,” he said, his lack of proper English grammar showing. Rishid had drilled some of the language into him before he left, but mostly the basic expressions and verbs. Malik scowled. He felt insecure, and he hated feeling insecure.
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Pegasus made a mental note to have Crocketts find a tutor to teach the boy English. Here was one more thing he didn’t know …on top of not knowing how to dress, and not knowing how to act, and not even knowing whether he should sit or stand, when he’d been invited to come in and sit down in his boss’s office. He should get a medal, if he turned this uncouth child into a good employee, he told himself, giving Malik the best smile he could manage. “All I ask is that you work hard,” he said, “and that you learn as much as you can. I’m sure you’ll do fine. Your sister is a smart woman, and that kind of thing runs in families.”
“I’m going to assign you a mentor from I2’s internship program,” he said. “I don’t have time to give you all the training you’re going to need. And I don’t want to assign you to a department at random. We want you working someplace you’ll do well and feel comfortable. Watanabe’s the best mentor we’ve got,” he said. “I’ve already checked, and he can meet you in the Clerical Department at 9:00. I’ll be in a meeting, but he’ll take over showing you around and seeing what you’re good at.”
“It’s hard on you, just getting dumped in a new country and a new situation like this,” he said. “I wish I could be around more to help, but it’s hard to spare the time.”
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“I understand,” Malik answered in a monotonous tone, and gave Pegasus the respectful half-bow he’d seen businessmen give their superiors when he was in Domino. He wasn’t looking forward to meeting this Watanabe; he was barely used to Pegasus, but it would be too much to expect him to hold his hand the entire time. Malik did understand that the CEO had more to do, he was a successful businessman after all, and he had to be grateful for this chance he’d been given… which annoyed him to no end. He wasn’t used to being grateful, and even though it wasn’t rubbed in his face, his mind kept circling around the fact that he ‘had to be grateful’. Annoyed and irritated, he followed his new employer out of his office, and down three floors in the elevator, to the Clerical Department.
“Good morning, Malik,” the man who greeted him when they arrived was Asian, and dressed in a suit almost as elegant as Pegasus’ own. “I’m Yushiko Watanabe,” he said. “Pegasus told me that you’re going to be under my wing from now on.” He smiled. “That’s my job,” he said, “I work with students to get them used to how we do things here. I need to find out what skills you’ve got, and what you’re interested in, so we can make sure to place you correctly.”
The Clerical Department was made up of one long hallway, with offices radiating out on both sides. People kept hurrying to and fro, adults in business suits like Watanabe, and people his own age, who all seemed to be wearing suits as well. Every time he felt like he was getting his bearings, it felt like, that’s when someone else would rush by, barely saying “excuse me,” as they came close to stepping all over him.
“I …Mr. Crawford, er, I don’t really have any skills,” Malik told his new mentor. “I just …I’ve never worked in an office before.” He sounded nervous even to his own ears, but at least he was handling this.
“This is too much for you, isn’t it?” Watanabe cut into Malik’s thoughts. “Let’s go into your office and sit down,” he added, as he led the way down the hallway, and into one of the closed doors on the right. Inside, there was a desk with a computer on it, one chair pushed in, and one on the opposite side of the desk, for a guest. Watanabe pulled the other chair around, and indicated for him to sit. Then, with both of them facing the computer, he turned it on. “Let’s start out by finding out what you can do,” he said. “How much experience have you had with computers,” he asked. “What programs do you know how to use?”
It was pretty much disheartening to admit that he hadn’t used computers at all, and his only exposure at modern technology was a Duel Disk and a phone. He knew of technology, obviously, but he had never had to use it, and in the Tombkeeper Tribe, everything mechanical or electrical had been frowned upon. A wave of anger flared, pure hatred towards his father, who had isolated them even more than tradition called for, keeping them away from the modern world, maintaining the traditions and rituals that had cost his own life. As always when thinking of his father, the carvings on his back started to itch and ache, and Malik felt his body stiffen.
“I’m very sorry, I haven’t been able to work with computers much,” he said. “My experience is very limited.” He hated admitting weaknesses, and reminded himself that it wasn’t his fault; he couldn’t help the way he’d been raised. This fact only made him feel angrier.
To make matters worse, Watanabe looked at him as if he’d grown a second head, staring for a long moment, before he could bring himself to speak. “All right,” he finally said. “Well, computers are very easy to use, but you have to know your way around, of course. Most software programs work intuitively. Have you got any experience at all?” he continued. “Have you used the Internet? Played computer games?”
“No, I’m sorry,” Malik said again his voice turning from wooden to annoyed. Gods, how many more times was he going to have to apologize?
“All right,” Watanabe said again and Malik wanted to strangle him. No, it was not all right! His father had taken away all of his chances, all of his opportunities! If it weren’t for him, Malik would’ve gone to a regular school, and he would be a regular teenager by now, with a cell phone and Internet, and his biggest worry would probably be which new model cell phone to buy.
Perhaps Watanabe picked up on his aggravation, because he pulled his own chair away from the desk, letting Malik get closer.
“You’ll learn,” he said.
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Watanabe was used to dealing with the cream of the crop, when it came to trainees. Industrial Illusions was a major company, and one that specialized in games, which meant that they always had way more applicants for their internship program than they could ever even consider. He and the other mentors would sift off a few at a time, then choose the best, the smartest, the most successful-looking kids in the pile. The last time he’d dealt with a kid like Malik, who was ignorant, and grumpy about his ignorance... Well he hadn’t dealt with a kid like Malik, had he? Not since he was in High School himself, anyway. What did Pegasus see in the boy, he wondered. Why bring him here, from whatever country it was he’d grown up in and give him an internship place that might have been filled by someone with more potential? And why give him the job of mentoring him… Well that one was easily answered of course: Because he was the best mentor with the program. If anyone could turn this sullen lump of ignorance into a good employee, he could.
And the first step was to teach him some computer skills. Watanabe smiled. He smiled as if he was getting paid to do it, and he looked at Malik, who was staring at the computer screen like it had insults written on it or something. He’d never dealt with someone who was a total computer-virgin before. It beggared belief, it was like meeting a throwback from the dark ages.
“I’m guessing your family is really religious?” His mental image was some kind of tiny, angry little sect, living way up in the mountains and never coming down to interact with the modern world. “They had a lot of rules for you when you were growing up?” Malik didn’t respond, but he also didn’t blow up and start shouting at him (which considering his expression, had kind of seemed like a possibility). Watanabe continued, and as he talked, he opened an internet link. He was going to do the unthinkable, and let his charge play with social media on company time. If Pegasus found out… Well fortunately he had a pretty good record with the company; he was counting on his boss to trust his judgment here.
“I was raised pretty conservative as well,” he said. “Japanese Christians are a tight-knit group. And I was the eldest son, I had to live up to my whole family’s expectations. I wasn’t allowed to go out on a date until I was 18, and then it was only with girls whose parents were friends with my parents.”
He had the page open, and he called Malik’s attention to it. “This is Facebook,” he said. “You can use it to talk to your friends and family members, if any of them are on the Internet. It’s pretty easy to use, and you’ll learn a lot of computer skills while you’re using it.”
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Malik sat down, if only not to look at Watanabe’s face. He appreciated the man not belittling him, but his even his intentionally non-judgmental comments shamed him. And they scared him for the future. What kind of a future was there for him, when he had to learn so much that came naturally to everyone else around him? Trying to push these thoughts aside, he instead focused his attention on the computer, this so-called ‘Facebook’. It didn’t look like a book, but he saw a lot of text, and some pictures…
“How does my family know I’m on here?” he asked. No one in the Ishtar family had a a computer, but he thought there was one Isis used, at the Museum.
Watanabe pointed at the screen. “You have to register first, otherwise the computer doesn’t know who you are,” he said. You have to create a profile, we can do that together if you want, step by step.”
Well, at least one Ishtar was on the Internet, Malik thought wryly as he and Watanabe went through the process to register. Maybe, if he made some friends in America, he could keep in touch. For now though, he was getting ahead of himself. He was still struggling with shift, caps lock and enter; such simple skills, but everything was new to him. Watanabe probably thought he was a simpleton, he thought, gritting his teeth and struggling with the keyboard.
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It took most of the morning to get Malik registered. Watanabe wouldn’t have believed it, but it actually seemed that he had never used a computer before in his life. It was all he could do to keep his a positive attitude, while Malik stumbled through tasks that would have taken a kid of twelve about two minutes. Watanabe didn’t hear the knock on the door, and he didn’t know that Pegasus was there, until he came up behind them. “click here,” he said, leaning in to look over Malik’s shoulder at the computer screen, “and the instructions will show you how to post photographs.”
He turned. And Malik (with an angry expression, as usual) turned as well. “It’s time for lunch.” Pegasus’ voice, as well as his face, were bland. “I’ve got an English tutor coming to meet you at the house at 1:30. The staff will give you lunch when you get home.”
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Actually, Malik couldn’t care less about lunch. He was feeling tired, almost exhausted, from working his way through the entire registration progress and dealing with Watanabe. The man was a good tutor, but he wasn’t too good at hiding his increasing disbelief about Malik’s total lack of computer knowledge and skills. However, his stomach decided for him and Malik covered up its rumbling by coughing awkwardly. He hadn’t expected Pegasus to check up on him and he felt humiliated, that the man who generously had taken him in, was confronted with him being so.
“Lunch will be fine,” he all but snapped back and avoided looking at Watanabe, who stood to leave the office too, as he got up.
“You go ahead,” the tutor said. “I’ll have some office skill tests for you when you return. I can find something to increase your typing skills too.”
Pegasus looked at him, his face as bland as before. “I expect success from you, Watanabe,” he said. “You can use the standard forms to track Malik’s progress.”
Malik noticed that he had balled his hands into fists. A progress report? What the heck? Was he really being monitored like a small kid? A wave of bile rose up in his throat and he scrunched up his face in a bitter, angry expression. Immediately, a headache sprung up, and he willed himself to relax. He only managed half-way, and he didn’t dare to say something, out of fear that he’d say something he’d regret later. ‘Be grateful,’ he thought, ‘Be a good boy.’
“All right, let’s go then,” Pegasus leading the way out of the office. “I know it all must seem pretty overwhelming.” As he spoke, he led the way to the elevator and then, when they’d reached the lobby, from there out to his car, which was waiting at the curb.
“I like being busy,” Malik answered. “I’m looking forward to all that I can learn.” What he was really looking forward to, was the English class. He liked languages, and English was a good one to know. It was going to make his computer work, and anything else he was going to be doing at I2. What he wished though, was that there could be a way to make dealing with the other people around him easier as well. Watanabe made him uncomfortable, with the constant surprise he showed, every time Malik didn’t know something. And dealing with Pegasus was stressful as well, his host apparently unable to hide his discomfort at having to deal with him. It wasn’t until he was working with his English tutor, Will Johnson – After a too-long, uncomfortably silent lunch with Pegasus. – that Malik managed to take a real breath again and relax.
Mr. Johnson launched immediately into grammar and conversation, making Malik write down all the verbs and vocabulary he didn’t know or recognize yet. His tutoring was strict, yet playful -- not boring verbs all the time, but also some fun etymology, which gave him insight in the origin of the language. He’d had to learn Japanese on his own, and it hadn’t been easy; English on the other hand, looked like it might actually be fun.
“It’s time to stop,” Johnson said when the clock struck four. “You’ve worked very hard, Malik. I think I’m going to enjoy tutoring you.”
Malik hadn’t realized it was this late already, he’d been enjoying the class so much. Johnson wasn’t stiff like Crocketts; he wasn’t awkward like Pegasus, or surprised-looking like Watanabe. His friendly manner and positive attitude had given Malik’s self-confidence a boost, which he’d desperately needed. He nodded, his head overflowing with irregular verb conjugations.
“Mr. Crawford told me not to spare you when it came to homework,” Johnson told him, his eyes twinkling above his glasses, “but I think with this much effort, you deserve to take it easy before it’s time for our next class. I want you to watch three movies and write down at least fifteen new verbs per movie, and conjugate them in present tense only.”
Chapter 1 |
Characters: Yami no Malik x Pegasus J. Crawford
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Desperate to give her brother a second chance after Battle City, Isis Ishtar calls on an old acquaintance in America to take him in. Will the move bring Pegasus and Malik the new hope they both need, or will they still be trapped, repeating old patterns?
Author's notes: This story takes place after Battle City, and before the Doma Arc, and all characters are of consenting age. Concrit and comments are appreciated!
Yu-Gi-Oh is the property of Konami and Kazuki Takahashi, and this work is only a very appreciative celebration, from which we hope to derive no profit of any kind.
California was 26 hours away by plane. It was an unnatural-feeling way to travel; Malik was going halfway across the globe, not at a normal pace, like when he’d sailed to Japan, not at speeds a person could control, like he might with a car or a motorcycle, but traveling at hundreds of miles per hour. At this pace he could go around the world in two days, since one day was taking him halfway around. -- He almost wished he were going, all the way around and back home, to end up with with Isis and Rishid, where no matter how ugly the situation was, at least it was familiar.
In California, he didn’t know what he was going to find. He told himself that there was no way it could be all that different from what he’d seen in Domino City, -- He thought back, visualizing what Domino had been like: He remembered the humidity, the streets that felt like they were crowded with people his age. He remembered pop music that seemed to be playing everywhere, restaurants and stands, selling unfamiliar Japanese food, and coin-operated machines on every corner, selling soda, beer, and in one memorable instance, underwear. Nothing could have been more different from Cairo, much less from the empty desert where he’d grown up. How much more different could California possibly be?
And finally the interminable flight was over. The plane was coming down, through cloud cover that looked like it was never going to end. They were landing, and the bright sunshine he’d expected never had come back; the windows all along the interior of the plane all showed the same dark-grey color, with no light was coming in at all. Hadn’t Isis told him it would be morning when he arrived? Early morning, wasn’t that what she’d said? But it looked like night out there on the tarmac.
Then he was being bundled out into a crowded airport, where a grim man in sunglasses took charge of him right away before he could even look around and get his bearings. A long walk, jostling crowds the entire way, a ride in the backseat of a sleek, late-model grey sedan, the streets outside wet with rain, the colors of the storefronts muted, in the grey, morning weather. Malik was delivered to a large building a few miles out of town, Industrial Illusions corporate headquarters apparently, and hurried upstairs to meet the CEO, Pegasus J. Crawford.
Crocketts wasn’t pleased, but neither was he particularly surprised, when he caught sight of the Egyptian boy: He’d done babysitting duty before, not for a while, not since Pegasus had been a teenager himself, but kids didn’t change much, did they? Malik’s exotic appearance didn’t surprise him; it was hard for someone to outdo Pegasus when it came to exotic appearance, even if they were wearing blue jeans and a sleeveless black t-shirt, and practically glittering with gold jewelry. His untidiness was a bit of a shock though. Pegasus wouldn’t have gone around with his hair uncombed like that if he were escaping from a burning building, much less just because he’d just gotten off a plane.
This didn’t change his cold expression though, as he eyed Malik up and down. “You’re not dressed properly for an office.”
The boy scowled. Then he opened his mouth. You could never tell with children, what he was going to say, and probably the odds were better that he was going to spew defiance of some sort, rather than apologizing, which was what he ought to do, but Crocketts gave him the benefit of the doubt. “Never mind,” he told Malik. “You’ll do for today. We have to hurry. Mr. Crawford is waiting.”
”I’ve got Isono in baggage to pick up your suitcase,” he added as he hurried toward the entrance of the terminal, leaving Malik to follow. Behind him, the boy could have been doing anything. He could have been arguing, or swearing under his breath. -- He could have been readying himself to throw a punch at Crocketts’ head, and it wouldn’t have fazed the ex-Chief of Security. Actually, he would rather have liked that last. Having an excuse to punch out the rumpled little brat would have made a refreshing start for his day. He didn’t leave Malik time enough to do anything though, just rushed the two of them out, and into his grey company car. Pegasus was waiting across town, and no matter if he had become less dictatorial after the accident that had happened on Duelist Kingdom, he still wasn’t a man who tolerated anything but full performance from his employees.
Across town, from the airport, to the prime real estate location of Industrial Illusions Headquarters, on a cliffside overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Crocketts led the way, glancing back only when absolutely necessary to see that Malik was following, and managed to deliver his young charge outside Master Pegasus’ office door right on schedule. It was all about knowing the best routes to avoid the morning traffic. He did not give the boy any credit for their having managed to get here so quickly of course, even though Malik had at least, cooperated fairly well on their way over.
Instead, he eyed him, expressionless as always, behind his sunglasses. “Behave yourself when Mr. Crawford calls you in,” he told him. “Try to make a good impression.”
“You’re late.” “You’re not dressed properly for the office.” “Behave yourself.” What was this, a babysitter? He wasn’t a kid anymore, to let people talk to him like this. Even Isis didn’t do it. Malik wanted to open his mouth and retort, but he held back. It was better to think before saying something in return, and regretting it later. He didn’t want to build up more anger and resentment, did he? So he kept his mouth shut, no matter how hard it was. He didn’t want to disappoint his sister and his brother, and he was sure that Pegasus J. Crawford wouldn’t hesitate for a moment to kick him back to Egypt if he did something the man didn’t like. Malik Ishtar wasn’t a quitter; the thought of going home with his head hanging in shame was horrible.
Crocketts was fast, his movements brisk and energetic, and Malik actually had trouble keeping up. He was so focused on the man that he barely got time or opportunity to look around, and take in the magnificent scenery of the building’s location, and the fancy interior decoration. He was almost out of breath when they finally reached their destination, after a walk that felt longer than the trek from his old home in the desert to Cairo.
.
Finally, they stopped though, Crocketts knocking on an office door that didn’t look much different from all the other doors they had passed. “Wait here,” he said, entering the office himself, and leaving the door ajar. Malik leaned in a little, to hear what was said.
“The boy is here,” Crocketts spoke as if he were talking about a disposable object. “Would you like to see him now, Mr. Crawford? Have you got time before your meeting?”
“A little,” Pegasus’ voice came through the open door. “You were very prompt, Crocketts.” A confused murmur, that was Crocketts’ voice, followed, and then Malik heard Pegasus again. “Have my secretary tell LJN I’ll be late,” he said, “not more than ten or fifteen minutes. I want to talk Malik before he gets to work.”
Malik’s view of the office was limited, just what he could see through the half-open door. Movement from inside told him someone was coming back to the door, but he couldn’t make out right away who it was. Then as the figure came closer, the flash of colored clothing made it clear: This wasn’t Crocketts, who was wearing a black suit, so it must be Pegasus. He opened the door the rest of the way, and Malik could see him fully.
The American’s face brought back vague memories. Pegasus’ face, half-hidden by his long, silver hair, was familiar, in kind of a distant way.. He remembered seeing him when he’d visited the Pharaoh’s tomb to sketch the carvings on the walls. Initially curious at this visitor who’d come from so far away, and hoping he would have stories to tell about city life, or anything more interesting than his own tombkeeper’s existence, Malik had lost interest soon enough once he realized that all Pegasus was there for, was to draw as many of the ancient Monsters as he could. But he remembered his face, the smile that looked pleasant and almost warm when you first saw it, but that ultimately told nothing about Pegasus’ thoughts or intentions.
Pegasus looked at him. “Malik?” he said. “Come into my office. Won’t you have a seat? Crocketts,” here he glanced at the dark-suited assistant, “was just leaving.”
Not waiting for Malik to sit, Pegasus returned to his own side of the desk and sat down. He rested his elbows on the gleaming mahogany surface and looked the boy (the young man?) up and down, feeling …uncomfortable, maybe even as uncomfortable as Malik looked. He was the head of a business. That was his job. After what had happened on Duelist Kingdom, when he’d gambled everything, and lost (and had to face up to the darkness in his own soul as well), it was almost a lifeline as well. It was what gave his life meaning. He didn’t have supernatural power, he didn’t have someone to love, but he had Industrial Illusions, he had Duel Monsters, which was kicking the ass of every other game in the world, and he could make a life of them both at the top if he had to.
What he wasn’t, was a daddy, or a big brother. -- He wasn’t the kind of guy most people would choose as a mentor. Didn’t busyness count against a man? Or a dark past that verged on the criminal? Just the thought of having a boy, any boy, in his charge, gave him misgivings, that he pushed back only with an effort of will. Then, when he looked at the boy Isis had sent him they all came flooding back.
‘Don’t you ever smile?’ that’s what he wanted to ask Malik, or perhaps, ‘why not comb your hair for a change?’ But that would be rude of course, wouldn’t it? And so instead, “welcome to Industrial Illusions,” he said. “As long as you’re willing to work, you’ll get along quite well.”
“Thank you, Mister Crawford,” Malik said, following Isis’ instructions to say ‘thank you’ to everything and call Pegasus ‘Mister Crawford’ and not ‘Pegasus’ to his face. If he was going to be his mentor, some respect was due. He didn’t like it though; the thought of being dependent of this man, or anyone else for that matter, was hateful to him. But Isis was right: If he really wanted to make something of his future, and go to a university, he had to of learning to catch up. Being able to recite old scriptures backwards and forwards wasn’t going to help him in the real world.
This was his first time in an office at all, much less an incredible, spacious, “I AM THE BOSS HERE,” office like Pegasus’. Malik couldn’t help but feel intimidated. What he also felt, was nervous. And he wondered, what would his new job entail?
“I’m willed to work,” he said, his lack of proper English grammar showing. Rishid had drilled some of the language into him before he left, but mostly the basic expressions and verbs. Malik scowled. He felt insecure, and he hated feeling insecure.
Pegasus made a mental note to have Crocketts find a tutor to teach the boy English. Here was one more thing he didn’t know …on top of not knowing how to dress, and not knowing how to act, and not even knowing whether he should sit or stand, when he’d been invited to come in and sit down in his boss’s office. He should get a medal, if he turned this uncouth child into a good employee, he told himself, giving Malik the best smile he could manage. “All I ask is that you work hard,” he said, “and that you learn as much as you can. I’m sure you’ll do fine. Your sister is a smart woman, and that kind of thing runs in families.”
“I’m going to assign you a mentor from I2’s internship program,” he said. “I don’t have time to give you all the training you’re going to need. And I don’t want to assign you to a department at random. We want you working someplace you’ll do well and feel comfortable. Watanabe’s the best mentor we’ve got,” he said. “I’ve already checked, and he can meet you in the Clerical Department at 9:00. I’ll be in a meeting, but he’ll take over showing you around and seeing what you’re good at.”
“It’s hard on you, just getting dumped in a new country and a new situation like this,” he said. “I wish I could be around more to help, but it’s hard to spare the time.”
“I understand,” Malik answered in a monotonous tone, and gave Pegasus the respectful half-bow he’d seen businessmen give their superiors when he was in Domino. He wasn’t looking forward to meeting this Watanabe; he was barely used to Pegasus, but it would be too much to expect him to hold his hand the entire time. Malik did understand that the CEO had more to do, he was a successful businessman after all, and he had to be grateful for this chance he’d been given… which annoyed him to no end. He wasn’t used to being grateful, and even though it wasn’t rubbed in his face, his mind kept circling around the fact that he ‘had to be grateful’. Annoyed and irritated, he followed his new employer out of his office, and down three floors in the elevator, to the Clerical Department.
“Good morning, Malik,” the man who greeted him when they arrived was Asian, and dressed in a suit almost as elegant as Pegasus’ own. “I’m Yushiko Watanabe,” he said. “Pegasus told me that you’re going to be under my wing from now on.” He smiled. “That’s my job,” he said, “I work with students to get them used to how we do things here. I need to find out what skills you’ve got, and what you’re interested in, so we can make sure to place you correctly.”
The Clerical Department was made up of one long hallway, with offices radiating out on both sides. People kept hurrying to and fro, adults in business suits like Watanabe, and people his own age, who all seemed to be wearing suits as well. Every time he felt like he was getting his bearings, it felt like, that’s when someone else would rush by, barely saying “excuse me,” as they came close to stepping all over him.
“I …Mr. Crawford, er, I don’t really have any skills,” Malik told his new mentor. “I just …I’ve never worked in an office before.” He sounded nervous even to his own ears, but at least he was handling this.
“This is too much for you, isn’t it?” Watanabe cut into Malik’s thoughts. “Let’s go into your office and sit down,” he added, as he led the way down the hallway, and into one of the closed doors on the right. Inside, there was a desk with a computer on it, one chair pushed in, and one on the opposite side of the desk, for a guest. Watanabe pulled the other chair around, and indicated for him to sit. Then, with both of them facing the computer, he turned it on. “Let’s start out by finding out what you can do,” he said. “How much experience have you had with computers,” he asked. “What programs do you know how to use?”
It was pretty much disheartening to admit that he hadn’t used computers at all, and his only exposure at modern technology was a Duel Disk and a phone. He knew of technology, obviously, but he had never had to use it, and in the Tombkeeper Tribe, everything mechanical or electrical had been frowned upon. A wave of anger flared, pure hatred towards his father, who had isolated them even more than tradition called for, keeping them away from the modern world, maintaining the traditions and rituals that had cost his own life. As always when thinking of his father, the carvings on his back started to itch and ache, and Malik felt his body stiffen.
“I’m very sorry, I haven’t been able to work with computers much,” he said. “My experience is very limited.” He hated admitting weaknesses, and reminded himself that it wasn’t his fault; he couldn’t help the way he’d been raised. This fact only made him feel angrier.
To make matters worse, Watanabe looked at him as if he’d grown a second head, staring for a long moment, before he could bring himself to speak. “All right,” he finally said. “Well, computers are very easy to use, but you have to know your way around, of course. Most software programs work intuitively. Have you got any experience at all?” he continued. “Have you used the Internet? Played computer games?”
“No, I’m sorry,” Malik said again his voice turning from wooden to annoyed. Gods, how many more times was he going to have to apologize?
“All right,” Watanabe said again and Malik wanted to strangle him. No, it was not all right! His father had taken away all of his chances, all of his opportunities! If it weren’t for him, Malik would’ve gone to a regular school, and he would be a regular teenager by now, with a cell phone and Internet, and his biggest worry would probably be which new model cell phone to buy.
Perhaps Watanabe picked up on his aggravation, because he pulled his own chair away from the desk, letting Malik get closer.
“You’ll learn,” he said.
Watanabe was used to dealing with the cream of the crop, when it came to trainees. Industrial Illusions was a major company, and one that specialized in games, which meant that they always had way more applicants for their internship program than they could ever even consider. He and the other mentors would sift off a few at a time, then choose the best, the smartest, the most successful-looking kids in the pile. The last time he’d dealt with a kid like Malik, who was ignorant, and grumpy about his ignorance... Well he hadn’t dealt with a kid like Malik, had he? Not since he was in High School himself, anyway. What did Pegasus see in the boy, he wondered. Why bring him here, from whatever country it was he’d grown up in and give him an internship place that might have been filled by someone with more potential? And why give him the job of mentoring him… Well that one was easily answered of course: Because he was the best mentor with the program. If anyone could turn this sullen lump of ignorance into a good employee, he could.
And the first step was to teach him some computer skills. Watanabe smiled. He smiled as if he was getting paid to do it, and he looked at Malik, who was staring at the computer screen like it had insults written on it or something. He’d never dealt with someone who was a total computer-virgin before. It beggared belief, it was like meeting a throwback from the dark ages.
“I’m guessing your family is really religious?” His mental image was some kind of tiny, angry little sect, living way up in the mountains and never coming down to interact with the modern world. “They had a lot of rules for you when you were growing up?” Malik didn’t respond, but he also didn’t blow up and start shouting at him (which considering his expression, had kind of seemed like a possibility). Watanabe continued, and as he talked, he opened an internet link. He was going to do the unthinkable, and let his charge play with social media on company time. If Pegasus found out… Well fortunately he had a pretty good record with the company; he was counting on his boss to trust his judgment here.
“I was raised pretty conservative as well,” he said. “Japanese Christians are a tight-knit group. And I was the eldest son, I had to live up to my whole family’s expectations. I wasn’t allowed to go out on a date until I was 18, and then it was only with girls whose parents were friends with my parents.”
He had the page open, and he called Malik’s attention to it. “This is Facebook,” he said. “You can use it to talk to your friends and family members, if any of them are on the Internet. It’s pretty easy to use, and you’ll learn a lot of computer skills while you’re using it.”
Malik sat down, if only not to look at Watanabe’s face. He appreciated the man not belittling him, but his even his intentionally non-judgmental comments shamed him. And they scared him for the future. What kind of a future was there for him, when he had to learn so much that came naturally to everyone else around him? Trying to push these thoughts aside, he instead focused his attention on the computer, this so-called ‘Facebook’. It didn’t look like a book, but he saw a lot of text, and some pictures…
“How does my family know I’m on here?” he asked. No one in the Ishtar family had a a computer, but he thought there was one Isis used, at the Museum.
Watanabe pointed at the screen. “You have to register first, otherwise the computer doesn’t know who you are,” he said. You have to create a profile, we can do that together if you want, step by step.”
Well, at least one Ishtar was on the Internet, Malik thought wryly as he and Watanabe went through the process to register. Maybe, if he made some friends in America, he could keep in touch. For now though, he was getting ahead of himself. He was still struggling with shift, caps lock and enter; such simple skills, but everything was new to him. Watanabe probably thought he was a simpleton, he thought, gritting his teeth and struggling with the keyboard.
It took most of the morning to get Malik registered. Watanabe wouldn’t have believed it, but it actually seemed that he had never used a computer before in his life. It was all he could do to keep his a positive attitude, while Malik stumbled through tasks that would have taken a kid of twelve about two minutes. Watanabe didn’t hear the knock on the door, and he didn’t know that Pegasus was there, until he came up behind them. “click here,” he said, leaning in to look over Malik’s shoulder at the computer screen, “and the instructions will show you how to post photographs.”
He turned. And Malik (with an angry expression, as usual) turned as well. “It’s time for lunch.” Pegasus’ voice, as well as his face, were bland. “I’ve got an English tutor coming to meet you at the house at 1:30. The staff will give you lunch when you get home.”
Actually, Malik couldn’t care less about lunch. He was feeling tired, almost exhausted, from working his way through the entire registration progress and dealing with Watanabe. The man was a good tutor, but he wasn’t too good at hiding his increasing disbelief about Malik’s total lack of computer knowledge and skills. However, his stomach decided for him and Malik covered up its rumbling by coughing awkwardly. He hadn’t expected Pegasus to check up on him and he felt humiliated, that the man who generously had taken him in, was confronted with him being so.
“Lunch will be fine,” he all but snapped back and avoided looking at Watanabe, who stood to leave the office too, as he got up.
“You go ahead,” the tutor said. “I’ll have some office skill tests for you when you return. I can find something to increase your typing skills too.”
Pegasus looked at him, his face as bland as before. “I expect success from you, Watanabe,” he said. “You can use the standard forms to track Malik’s progress.”
Malik noticed that he had balled his hands into fists. A progress report? What the heck? Was he really being monitored like a small kid? A wave of bile rose up in his throat and he scrunched up his face in a bitter, angry expression. Immediately, a headache sprung up, and he willed himself to relax. He only managed half-way, and he didn’t dare to say something, out of fear that he’d say something he’d regret later. ‘Be grateful,’ he thought, ‘Be a good boy.’
“All right, let’s go then,” Pegasus leading the way out of the office. “I know it all must seem pretty overwhelming.” As he spoke, he led the way to the elevator and then, when they’d reached the lobby, from there out to his car, which was waiting at the curb.
“I like being busy,” Malik answered. “I’m looking forward to all that I can learn.” What he was really looking forward to, was the English class. He liked languages, and English was a good one to know. It was going to make his computer work, and anything else he was going to be doing at I2. What he wished though, was that there could be a way to make dealing with the other people around him easier as well. Watanabe made him uncomfortable, with the constant surprise he showed, every time Malik didn’t know something. And dealing with Pegasus was stressful as well, his host apparently unable to hide his discomfort at having to deal with him. It wasn’t until he was working with his English tutor, Will Johnson – After a too-long, uncomfortably silent lunch with Pegasus. – that Malik managed to take a real breath again and relax.
Mr. Johnson launched immediately into grammar and conversation, making Malik write down all the verbs and vocabulary he didn’t know or recognize yet. His tutoring was strict, yet playful -- not boring verbs all the time, but also some fun etymology, which gave him insight in the origin of the language. He’d had to learn Japanese on his own, and it hadn’t been easy; English on the other hand, looked like it might actually be fun.
“It’s time to stop,” Johnson said when the clock struck four. “You’ve worked very hard, Malik. I think I’m going to enjoy tutoring you.”
Malik hadn’t realized it was this late already, he’d been enjoying the class so much. Johnson wasn’t stiff like Crocketts; he wasn’t awkward like Pegasus, or surprised-looking like Watanabe. His friendly manner and positive attitude had given Malik’s self-confidence a boost, which he’d desperately needed. He nodded, his head overflowing with irregular verb conjugations.
“Mr. Crawford told me not to spare you when it came to homework,” Johnson told him, his eyes twinkling above his glasses, “but I think with this much effort, you deserve to take it easy before it’s time for our next class. I want you to watch three movies and write down at least fifteen new verbs per movie, and conjugate them in present tense only.”
Chapter 1 |
