To Serve and Protect

I'm not sure how to explain where this fits in. One; its alternate universe, please reread that, I repeat Alternate Universe.

All characters have graduated from high school.

Seto Kaiba is 23; Mokuba is 18; Joey Wheeler is 22; Mai Valentine is 25 Other characters are in this age range.

To Serve and Protect

Joey gritted his teeth. This was going to be the worst time of his life. He was going to prison; in America no less. 'God help me now.', he thought.

"OK All the arrangements are made. You'll be transferred with regular prisoners. Your contacts in America will be prisoners, too. A trustee so it should be pretty secure. Just be careful."

"Yeah. Don't bend over in the showers. Better get me cuffed before the pickup team gets here."

Joey shuffled down the hall. It was hard to walk in transport chains; his hands were secured in cuffs attached to a belly chain, a drop chain fell to his feet which were shackled together, the chain only 20 inches long. He kept his head down, hiding his eyes behind his bangs. He kept his eyes moving, always moving. If anything, he was over cautious, but he hadn't been under cover for almost four years without learning to watch his back himself.

The walk was not going well. The two idiots who were escorting him had never escorted a chained prisoner before. Japan had an odd attitude; when you were caught, you gave up more or less. Prisoners could be and were abused to an extent that would have American Civil libertarians screaming, but prisoners were more subdued because of it. So they were hurrying him too much and letting him trip.

"Hey gimme a break here. Yuh see I can't walk so why yuh tryin' t' jerk my chain, punk. Slow down. We ain't gonna miss th' plane, they gotta hold it." Joey snarled in his worst dock side accent.

In answer he got a punch in the kidney. Dropping to his knees he made it look worse than it was just to piss them off.

"Seto, did you see that? That cop punched that man in the side. Do something." Mokuba was indignant. He hated seeing anyone or anything abused. "Make them stop"

"Mokuba, Hush. The man is obviously a dangerous prisoner. Why would they chain him up otherwise?" Seto looked at the kneeling man. That hair, profile; Wheeler! "What the hell?"

Joey swore softly, if Kaiba called him Wheeler he was fucked big time. "Fuck ya. Ya can't treat Jounochi Katsuya dat way. I'll get ya." Joey looked Seto Kaiba in the eyes; the look froze Kaiba. Whatever he was going to say died on his lips.

"Come away, Mokuba He doesn't want our help. Whatever Wheeler has gotten himself into it's beyond me. That stupid mutt has finally thrown his life away. Come on I said. Now." Seto was surprised at how upset he was. Joey obviously didn't want his help no matter how badly he needed it and Seto wasn't about to try forcing his help on someone he hadn't seen in nearly three years.

Joey gritted his teeth; he couldn't believe how painful it was to see Kaiba turn his back. They didn't get along, never had but they had finally respected each other.

As Kaiba turned his back Joey lunged to his feet, the guards skittered back. "Ya chickens, I never . . . " Mokuba got in one of the guard's faces. "Damnit you can't treat a man like some dog. That's not right. Stop it." Mokuba turned to help Joey. "I don't need help from some rich kid Hands off!" Mokuba stared at Joey for a second, then paled. "What? Ya never see a con in chains b'fore. Take a hike." Mokuba blinked then turned his back and ran "Big brother wait for me"

Joey breathed a sigh of relief; he'd hated to turn Mokuba away like that but at this point a slip of any sort could cost him his life. He couldn't afford to get soft now. After years undercover he had lots of practice covering up.

First, Hirutani. That was how he'd gotten into this mess in the first place. He'd gon to the block office when his dad had thrown him out for the umpteenth time. The Captain was a good guy. He'd even taken Joey home a few times like this night.

Flash back

"Was'sa madda', Watsuki-sama? Bad night all 'round, huh." Joey sipped his tea and grimaced at the officer across the desk.

"It's that punk hood, Hirutani and his gang again. They beat up an old man nearly killed him all for his annuity check. But he had it electronically deposited so they didn't get anything." The Captain shook his head "We've tried to get someone in that gang three times, but they always blow their cover. We get some young looking guy just out of the academy and first thing the stupid fool does is try to play tough guy and get jumped in, they don't even make it to the lowest level. It's a waste."

"Huritani? He's still on the outside? Wow! He musta smartened up since I ran with him. I figured he woulda been in prison by now or even dead." Joey shook his head in wonder.

"You used to run with the Rintama Mako's? When was that?"

"When I was in middle school. I got in some trouble. But the judge gave me a big break. He got me transferred to Domino High and I got in with a good crowd, started playing Duel Monsters and kept my nose clean. You could look me up, I guess. Look for Katsuya the Fist" Joey grimaced, Captain Watsuki-san was going to be disappointed in him now and Joey didn't like that.

"Joey! I know you have been trying to decide what to do with the rest of your life. How would you feel about being a police officer?" Watsuki-san looked hopeful

"I can't! I gotta' record. Not much, but enough to keep me off the force. Look it up yourself." Joey thought about being a cop. It was long hours; but the pay was decent and he liked the thought of doing good instead of spending his life drifting from one dead end job to another.

Captain Watsuki tapped at the keyboard of his computer then came back to Joey.

"I looked up your record. It's not good but there's nothing there that would keep you out of the special division. They deal with gangs and yakuza so they make exceptions that other departments wouldn't. Would you mind if I put your name up for consideration? Since you have a history with Hirutani I think you might have an in we can use."

"Go ahead. Put me up. I don't care. If I can do some good, I'd like that." Joey didn't realize what he had done to himself until much later.

end

Finally turned over to the American escort, Joey settled down to sleep.

"Comfortable, Mr. Katsuya? I hope so, because I'm not going to mess with you. You do what I say when I say and we won't have any problems. You don't want problems, do you?"

The American, named Jessup, reached out to grip Joey's arm. Joey dodged without even thinking. He was used to the Japanese guards habit of enforcing commands with a slap.

"Hey! We don't hit unless you start it, then we'll finish it. But you don't seem like the stupid sort. I'm going to hold your arm so you don't trip on the ramp. Relax."

"Hn. 'K. Not used to American. And my name Jounochi. Not Katsuya. That given; only friend call that." Joey's spoke much better English than that but he wasn't going to admit it. If they thought his English was bad they were more likely to talk around him, and when he got to America he would be around Yakuza who wouldn't expect a mid level knee breaker to know English.

That was what he was going to America for. Drugs were coming into Japan from yakuza in America. One of the biggest lords over there was in prison in California, so Joey was being inserted to see if he couldn't wangle his way into the gang and figure out how he was running a drug ring from prison.

"Seto, that was Joey. Why didn't you do something? I don't understand. He was doing so well. He had a place in the Graphic Arts School and everything. What went wrong?" Mokuba had always liked Joey. Even though he knew Seto found him annoying.

"I don't know. He probably didn't have the money to pay his tuition. He went back to the streets; down in the gutter he crawled out of and wound up on the wrong side of something. I'd have helped him but he warned me off with a glare that rivaled my own. He's not worth your worry." But he was. Seto wondered what had happened. Joey wasn't the type to get in serious trouble. Fist fights and petty vandalism was his speed. "Come on. I can't waste time worrying over that stupid mutt I've got more important things to do"

Mokuba gave Seto a dirty look. He was old enough now to give Seto a run for his money in stubbornness but he also knew when to go out on his own and this was it. He decided to see what he could do on his own. "Seto did you get that file implanted like they asked you. What was in it?"

"Mokuba I have no idea. They needed a file inserted into their data base without traces of tampering. I do stuff like this for the police every now and then but I don't read the damn things I don't need to know what's in them." Seto turned to his brother, "I'm sorry Mokuba I"m tired and I've got a headache. Their monitors flicker so much it's a wonder the clerks get anything done. Let's go home, forget about Wheeler and have dinner early so we can play a video game. How's that?"

"OK big Bro' I could go for a few rounds of SWAT." Mokuba looked hopeful. He'd graduated from high school just this last semester and he was going on to college so he wanted to spend as much time as he could with Seto. He would be living at school next year and they would be apart for the first time in their lives.

"SWAT? How did I know that was what you'd want to play. You and your shoot 'em ups."Seto pulled a lock of Mokuba's ever unruly hair.

Joey, true to his word, slept most of the way to California. They had to make a change at some airport in New Jersey and again some place in Michigan, both times the guards had been careful of him. He couldn't believe how they treated him, he hoped no one had informed them of his real status. It could be disastrous."You not hit. You hold not to trip. Why? Criminal I."

"Shit kid, you can't be much older than my son. You aren't giving me a hard time or smart mouth. I got nothin' against you, so why start something when it's not necessary? That's the way we do stuff here in the States. Keep your nose clean, stay out of trouble, and you won't get trouble back. Understand? And brush up on your English, will you."

This next part is going to be just bits and pieces showing how Joey and Seto each spend the next six months

Joey backed into a corner. He hated the showers. Every creep in the place wanted to make him a 'girl friend', he wasn't bending over for anyone. One; it was rape,; two he wasn't interested. He had a job to do and he was going to do it. He'd make plenty of sacrifices for this job but that wasn't one of them.

"Come on, pretty boy. Just give it up. I'll be good to you. It won't hurt, I swear."

Joey swore at the man in Japanese, he forgot his english when he got mad enough. "Shimata, kuso. Konoyaru, don't touch me. I'm not going to bend over for you or anyone else."

The bigger man just shrugged, made a motion with his hand like 'come here', then smiled in a not very nice way that made Joey snarl.

"Ok, sweetie pie. If you want it the hard way, I guess I'll have to share you once or twice."

"Omae aho ya de yo, I don't think so. You'll have to work me over pretty good just to get me down and by then the guards will be here. I'd rather spend time in the hole than have you for a 'daddy'."

The two other men that were trying to flank Joey found out that a small, quick, Japanese street fighter was plenty tough enough to hold them off.

Joey kicked one on the side of the knee, breaking it and leaving the man writhing and screaming on the floor. The other managed to get hold of Joey and slice him across the back with a shank which Joey took away from him and threw out the shower room door. The quick snatch-flip was followed by a return blow that took him across the throat, leaving him gagging next to his fellow.

"Ok, smart guy, you wanna play tough now that your friends are out of commission. Ya? Baka, you work for me now."

The guards stopped any further conversation by rushing in and jumping on Joey's adversary, slamming him to the floor and cuffing him. They started to rough house Joey, but when they saw the blood running down his buttock and thigh he wound up flat on his belly on a nearby bench, with a medic putting pressure on the three-inch cut just under his floating rib.

"Easy there. That hurts." Joey sighed in disgust. He wasn't going to find out anything for a while.

"You know you're going straight into solitary."

"Yeah. It's not fair." Joey didn't believe in fairness anymore. Only in games did you get fair.

"No, it's not, but it's good. You'll be out of the population while that heals."

Joey banged his head against the wall just for something to do besides wish he had something to do. He hated solitary, nothing to look at but four walls, nothing to do but think and he was tired of examining his life. Analyzing all the information he had gathered wasn't getting him anywhere. The Yakuza lord here wasn't the top dog. He was somewhere else. He knew he'd be transferred as soon as someone figured out where to send him.

"Jounochi, you're being transferred to Georgia. Good luck kid, try to stay out of trouble. Lift weights, get on a chain gang, further your education. You paying attention?" The guard efficiently shackled Joey and lead him out to the waiting van.

"Seto, I'm going to the Mall. Do you need anything? I'll bring back some ice-cream. What flavor do you want?" Mokuba stuck his head around the door frame.

Seto put his pen down and stretched. "I think I'll go with you. I'm tired of all this paper work. Since you will be going off to Tokyo soon, I'd like to spend time with you. This stuff will wait."

Mokuba whooped like a kid half his age. Seto had been spending more time with him lately. He seemed to have relaxed, he wasn't quite so driven anymore.

Seto enjoyed his mall crawl with Mokuba; they ate ice cream and junk food and just in general did what two young men would do at a mall.

Joey was hot, tired, sweaty and dirty. His ankles ached, his back was sore and he had blistered his hands. The weight lifting callouses hadn't protected them from the friction of using a scythe. He was mowing a road side with an old fashioned "grim reaper" scythe. He was wearing leg irons and they were taking all the skin off.

Some American television station was filming a documentary and making a real nuisance of themselves. Joey did his best to stay out of the line of fire but he caught one persistent pest filming him so he gave him a cold glare and then ignored him.

"Mokuba, come on I've got tickets to Madam Bouvier. You've been wanting to see this damn thing for three weeks. If we're late, they won't seat us." Mokuba hugged Seto quickly then blushed a little.

"Thanks Big Bro' I know you don't like the theater so it makes this really special. I don't know what you have against being in public all of a sudden"

Seto just shrugged, "You know I've never liked crowds. This thing is so popular that the crowds are crippling. Now hurry up or we really will be late"

Joey sat with his back to a wall and tried to watch the movie. It was hot and humid here in Georgia and all he really wanted to do was find somewhere cool and be as still as possible.

He hurt all over. All that mowing had used muscles he wasn't use to using in ways they weren't accustomed to being used. He was supposed to be watching the five Japanese convicts here in the work farm but he knew that only two of them could be the Yakuza. Three had been eliminated in his mind they were Americans which ruled them out automatically. He didn't understand why the American authorities had even considered them.

The other two, however, were a different kettle of fish altogether. They were old school Yakuza and tough as nails. They kept to themselves not even talking to the other Japanese prisoners. They only talked to their lawyers.

Every conversation was recorded and examined, dissected, analyzed to bits and no one could figure out how they were passing instructions. It was impossible, they only talked about family and acquaintances and legal maneuvering. And duel monsters.

That last left Joey with a crawly feeling somehow.

"Seto, are the new cards released yet?"

Mokuba nearly danced in his eagerness. He wanted to use the new cards but he couldn't until they were officially released.

"Yes, they were just released this morning. Go ahead and use them, Brat." Seto smiled at Mokuba, he'd turned into quite a duelist and he enjoyed watching him regularly beat opponents like Underwood and Raptor.

"When I get to college, I'm going to go find the nearest hall right away. I'm really getting good arn't I Seto."

"Yes you are, but if your grades drop, I'll make sure you don't have access to one single card. You understand me?"

Seto tryed to look stern and only managed to look big brotherly.

"Ok, Seto. I knew you were going to say that. Do you really think I'll slack off my studies , even for Duel Monsters."

Seto shook his head. Getting in between Mokuba and something he wanted to know was like getting between a junkie and his next fix.

"Damn it, I need a new contact. That last one got himself shanked."

Joey eyed the Warden in disgust, he was getting tired of the whole job. He knew that information was geing passed, they knew it, but no one could figure out how.

"Look Katsuya . . . "

"Jounuchi. How many times do I havta say it?"

"Joey . . . we've analyzed and reanalyzed every tape we have. We know they're passing intel, we just can't figure it out. They don't even speak in Japanese. We're stumped."

Joey lit a cigarette and drew in a lung full of smoke. He sat so still, other than the motion of the tip of the cigarette he'd left in his mouth, that the warden started worrying.

"Look. . . " Joey just looked up at the warden, the nearly inhuman look in his eyes shut the man up.

Finally Joey just grunted, stood up, and headed for the door. "I'm in solitary again. You decide why. I want to listen to every one of those tapes myself. Maybe I'll find something you can't."

Mokuba looked at the room he would be occupying in his dorm. It was a complete suite all to himself. He'd never heard of such a thing but he was glad that he didn't have to have a roommate. He'd never had to share sleeping space with anyone before and he wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep with someone else in the room with him.

Seto smirked to himself. The amount of money he'd spent on remodeling the suite was well worth it. Mokuba's sigh of relief when he'd seen the arrangements, made it obvious that he'd been dreading having a roommate.

Seto was hating the thought of being separated from his brother more and more every day. The only up side to Mokuba's desire to start early was that he would be out of the line of fire if the 'letter man' decided to carry out any of his threats.

Joey sat in the computer lab, with a pair of head phones on, listening to the tapes. Something wasn't right about the conversations but he wasn't quite sure exactly what. They talked about family a lot but he knew that three of the people they talked about didn't exist.

"Something . . . something . . . but what the hell is it?"

Joey pressed the phone to his ear and then started writing. When he was through, he had a page that looked suspiciously like a spread sheet.

Gotcha'. Using Duel Monster cards to communicate financial information. Who'd a thunk it?"

When he told the FBI analyst how they were doing it the man nearly spit his coffee.

"Hey Jap-boy, ya know karate, judo, any of that martial arts crap? Wanna' fight me?"

Joey eyed his tormentor in disgust, this happened regularly. Every new group that came in had one fool who just had to try the Jap. "K'sama! I'll break your face. Don't you call me Jap again." Another thirty days in solitary Damn. "You'll get beat down"

"Hey! Break it up. No picking on the little guy. He's like dynamite, big bang in a small package. You, come with me, the Warden want's to see you."

Joey eyed the new guard for a moment. He looked familiar.

"Well, look at the tough guy. I never would have thought it of you. How the hell did you wind up here?" Bandit Keith Howard eyed Joey. "What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into to wind up in prison in America? Baka!"

Joey kept his mouth shut. He was just about used up and he knew it. He'd gotten as much information as he was going to get and he just wanted out.

"Well, young man. This is agent Howard; he'll be debriefing you. You'll be transferred immediately to a halfway house in Atlanta. I hear you two know each other from a while back. Good luck, Mr. Katsuya."

Joey just rolled his eyes. For almost six months he'd been trying to get Americans to understand that Katsuya was his given name.

"How soon can I leave? I'd like to make my reports as quickly as possible and go home. I'd like to thank you for all the help you've given me. Good-by"

Keith swore softly as he lead Joey into the hall."Shimata! K'uso! Jounochi, you're the mole? Son-of-a-bitch. You've got some big brass ones."

Joey snarled, "Shut up. Someone hears you, I'm toast before I get out of here. Want to get me shanked again?"

"Dosn't make much difference, but if you're so worried about it, ok." Keith took Joey by the arm and dragged him down a hall and straight to processing. "Here, cuff him. I'm taking him to Atlanta. It seems that our little Jap is a bigger fish than we thought."

Joey didn't even move while they cuffed him, the weight of the chains didn't bother him now. After four months on a chain gang spying on a Yakuza lord who had managed to hide himself in the wilds of Georgia on a notorious work farm, he was used to them.

"Seto which suit should I get? I like the blue, but the gray is more dignified?" Mokuba fingered the sleeve of the blue suit doubtfully.

"Buy them both. We can afford it," Seto smiled at Mokuba, he had the oddest habit of trying to save money on the stupidest things. "If you decide you don't like one or the other just send it back."

"Can we go for beef pot? I could really go for a good pot of Kobe beef. There is an antique restaurant down the block. Let's go there. I'm really hungry." Mokuba turned to the hovering clerk, "I'll take both suits. All three shirts and the pearl grey tie, that dark blue one too. Have them delivered. Ok?"

Agent Howard leaned back in his chair. "Damn, Wheeler. You'd think you were the Terminator the way those guys look at you. What have you been doing to get such a rep'?"

"You want the long story or the short one." Joey opened a pack of cigarets and lit one. After taking a drag. He grimaced at Keith. "Gang busting mostly. I broke Hirutani's Rintama Mako's up. Got him up for life. Then I infiltrated that Yakuza gang that was smuggling guns into Domino. That was a hell of a mess. I wound up having to really break some poor fool's knee cap. He'll recover, in fact probably has by now, but it was either that or get my brains blown all over the wall, so the poor sap got hurt. But in a way, he brought it on himself. If you can't run with the big dogs, stay on the porch.

"That's how I got this." Joey held up the little finger of his left hand. "Boss is just as progressive as hell. Don't believe in cutting off a finger, but this tattoo is just as effective and a hell of a lot less messy."

Keith eyed the red line tattooed around Joey's finger. "I wondered about that. You've been a busy little bee, haven't you? How long have you been undercover?"

"Almost four years. And I'm sick of it. I just want to go home to Japan and slack for a while. I may have to come back to testify, but I hope not. I'm going to buy myself the fastest bike I can find and spend a while relaxing by riding the twistiest roads in Japan and camping out until I blow the stink of three different prisons off me.

"Keith. It's not like I don't like your company or nothin' but can I get outta' here now?"

"Sure, Joey, as soon as we get you debriefed we'll put ya on a plain to Japan. Couple a' days at the most."

Joey just grunted and lit another cigarette.

"Howard, when can I get outta here? I've been debriefing for three days now and I"m gettin' restless. And I"m outta cigarettes again."

Keith looked at Joey and shuddered slightly. He'd known the kid for more than five years and knew he was tough, but his time under cover had hardened him in a way that was not good. He was more muscular that he seemed and he'd collected some scars that no twenty-three-year-old should have.

Looking at Joey clothed, all you could see was a young man in the prime of life, slender and graceful; with muscular shoulders and a flat abdomen. His arms and legs were well muscled, but he wasn't bulky like a body builder, he was built more like a gymnast or a dancer.

But seeing him now, in nothing but boxers and a snarl, he looked hard, all whipcord and raw hide. He had shackle callouses around wrists and ankles and a scar just under his left floating rib, over his kidney. He was strung way too tight and his ribs showed like he'd missed one too many meals.

"All you need is a little exercise. Why don't you come to the gym? I'm supposed to teach a course. You could be my subject. I'm always trying to use one of the students and it don't work. They're too inexperienced. Come on loosen up a little. You're safe here."

"So why don't I feel safe. I think I'll take ya up on that class. I could use some distraction"

Twenty minutes later Keith was reconsidering his offer. Joey had looked at the fresh faced American students and sneered. They were all young, earnest and intense; just the kind of Rookie that would annoy a tired, burnt out undercover like Joey. Another ten minutes of demonstrating self defense with Joey really had Keith regretting his offer. Joey was like an eel, every attempt by Keith to get the upper hand and show a move was evaded or negated.

"Well Joey, why don't you try letting me be the defender this time?"

"Damnit Keith, I'm sorry, but I knew this was a bad idea. I'm just too jumpy to be a good subject."

Joey backed away, he felt bad, but his reflexes just wouldn't let him be put down.

The students were all looking uncomfortable. They weren't used to seeing Agent Howard on the wrong end of an attack. And this scrawny looking guy was making him look bad.

After another half hour of struggling Joey snarled, "Just give up, Howard We're not going to get anywhere. I'm just fuckin' up your class."

One of the rookies piped up, "Please Agent Howard, after all, what real difference does this make? Once we get them cuffed, they're done anyway."

Keith just reached behind his back, took his handcuffs out of their pouch and showed them to Joey. He raised an eye brow and Joey put out his hands to be cuffed. "Behind your back, Wheeler." Joey turned and stood while Keith cuffed him.

Then he dropped, rolled, and came up with his hands in front of him. Keith grabbed for him and found a foot in his face. Joey missed his face by an inch. Keith jerked back and Joey used the force of his kick to spin completely around to bring his hands into play. The double fisted roundhouse slap would have taken Keith's head off if it had connected, but Joey wasn't playing for keeps. So, while Keith was still off balance, he dropped and unleashed a spin kick that swept Keith's feet out from under him and dumped him on his butt with a tooth jarring thump.

"Now do you see why this class is so important? Joey Wheeler is one of the best street fighters I've ever seen. He could beat most of the martial arts instructors here. He don't fight in any style and that's what makes him so dangerous. You can't predict what he's going to do next. You hope and pray you never meet someone as good as he is, because if you do, you either shoot to kill or you're toast." Turning to Joey he nodded as he took off the cuffs. "Thanks Joey, I think you've made my point for me."

"Good, I want to go home to Japan." Joey walked away, back to his room, where he sat smoking and wishing. He wanted to see Mai. The last time he'd seen her he had a fresh tattoo around his finger and she was mad as hell. She'd told him she didn't want to see him until he got over what ever juvenile stupidity he was indulging in. That had been almost 18 months ago. He'd wanted to tell her what he was doing but he knew she couldn't keep a secret to save her life, or his.

The analyst came to find him that afternoon asking how he knew they were using cards to pass intel.

"Because I used to be third in the world in Duel Monster cards. I know most of the cards still. The cards they're using are all older. The big tell was Red Eyes Black Dragon, that's my card. They said it had 1400 attack points. That's way wrong and got me thinking, so I started over and listened for the card game. All the attack and defense points were wrong. Any duelist worth his cards doesn't need to be told most cards. They'll ask if they don't know. So I wondered why they were telling attacks and defenses when they should know them. That's how they're passing intel.

"Look, go ask Keith Howard about it. He dueled me. He's not as good as me but he'll be able to get a start on it. As far as I can figure out the attack points are credits or prices and the defense points are debits or weights somehow the relatives are signaling which it is."

His return trip to Japan was eventful and long. He slept most of the way. He couldn't seem to catch up on sleep and heaven help the person who tried to wake him. He nearly took the head off the flight attendant when she bent over him to adjust his blanket. He spent the rest of the flight sleeping next to an Air Martial who had been warned about him. He just took Joey up to first class and stuck him in the corner next to the restroom, putting him out of the way where no one would bother him. Poor kid. He looks done in. I wonder how long he's been working

Please review. I'm a big whiner. If you don't review I never know if I'm doing good or not. There are a lot of readers and not many reviewers. Come on people help an author out.