Agony Games

Summary: This is a story of innocence lost, and battered hearts. There are no heroes. Only villains and victims, but two stand out above the rest; Seto Kaiba, heir of the Asian drug trade, and YamiYugi, his faithful, gloomy servant. Can love be their salvation…or is it just too late for that? AU Yami/Seto

AN: This was the first Angst fic I ever wrote. Please let me know what you think. The writing might be choppy, but then again, I cranked it out over two years ago, so… Expect very prompt updates, as long as I get reviews, that is.

FYI: / and italics / means a past discussion

Warnings: Violence, Drug Use, Implied Rape

Prologue- Seto's POV

I used to think I was trapped. That nothing could save me from his wrath, and that if I exposed him I would go down too for all the illegal imports he'd made me make look invisible as far as the trade records were concerned. Not an easy task. Americans, especially criminals, are a sharp bunch. It was like I was watching a weaker version of myself fall deeper and deeper into his clutches, forced again and again into lying and cheating and…being with him.

Then I tried the stuff. It was the day after Mokuba's funeral. He'd done it to punish me.

/ There now, Seto. No more distractions. You're loyal only to me now. /

I had had enough. One push of the needle, and I was stronger, better than I had ever been before. For the first time I understood why 'hero' was part of the name. It took away my grief for my baby brother and replaced it with fiery power that ran through my veins and into my heart.

Then that night, he came for me. That merciless bastard would've made me do it with him again before my raven haired Other Half was even cold in the ground.

/ Come here, Seto. Or do I have to come over there and get you/

He didn't notice the wild rage in my eyes. For I was not seeing my stepfather any longer. I gazed upon a scarlet demon whose mortal enemy was I.

And I was no longer Seto. I was a monster. A beautiful, defiant, ravenous monster.

I was a dragon.

He didn't take two steps before I roared my lungs out and seized the Japanese Samurai sword that hung above the bed he'd pushed me on. I sliced through his shocked expression, crazed and blood thirsty/ My weapon came down over and over and over as he yelled, his suit turning a deeper, wetter shade of red. Again and again the same chant breaking through my throat…no more…no more…

His flunkies, frightened of being uncovered when the police investigated their former Master's history, (and, more significantly, investments,) covered the whole thing up. As his only living son, at least on paperwork, I inherited the largest heroin empire in Asia.

At fifteen, I gave into it. There was no point in defiance any longer. He was dead. Mokuba was dead. And this was as distracting a career as any. It took away the pain. If I'm lucky it'll kill me.

Now I'm not just trapped.

I'm drowning.

Chapter One- The Cycle

Seto Kaiba awoke from his nightmare-filled sleep screaming. It was black as death outside, and he had broken into a cold sweat, shivering, though not from fear. It had been two days since his last hit. Two days was his limit. Then the memories and trauma came back and hindered his work, his…effect on those around him.

With intense effort he pushed these things away and tried to get himself under control. He'd always had great power over himself. Even in his condition.

His cell phone was ringing. It bored into his splitting head like a mason's drill so that his teeth gnashed together painfully.

He snatched it up and growled into the receiver.

" This better be good. It's three in the morning."

A deep, familiar voice answered him. " Yes, sir. My apologies. It's just, we've found that gang of kids who hi-jacked your delivery/dispersal truck last week. Those idiots didn't even leave the country. They just stashed the stuff in the basement of the fucking grocery store at the corner of Hasaki Romk. Probably belongs to one of their daddies. We have them guarded, and are awaiting your orders."

Seto grinned wickedly. " They delayed my export to the Russian boss" he mused.

" Dear Vladimir will be so happy to at last get his shipment. Don't touch them until I get there, Yami. I want to dispose of these punks myself."

He heard a cynical snort from the other end.

" Very well, Master."

He mocked, something he reserved only for occasions when Seto was extremely pleased with him

Or when they hooked up.

Seto let it slide and hung up, then stood and scrambled to the bathroom, jumping into a cold shower.

He tried not to look at himself as he dried off and dressed. Though well toned and gorgeous, the drugs had made him white as a sheet and thinner than he would've liked. All across his chest and thighs were the eternally burning wheels made by his stepfather's belt all those years ago. There were also numerous knife wounds and a small, withered piece of flesh at the back of his right shoulder where last year on his seventeenth birthday a bullet had passed. His rivals had apparently decided to surprise him that year.

His thick, licorice brown hair had lost some of its sheen and his fathomless blue eyes, though cold and dreadful as ever, were spiritless. All along his arms were a constellation of places where either out of desperation or sheer frivolity, he had shot up.

He looked like the shadow of the walking dead.

Quickly Seto pulled on a pair of black jeans and workboots as well as a muscle-hugging ebony turtleneck. He had discovered over the years that black intimidated people. So did weapons. Half-heartedly the teen reached into his night table drawer and pulled out his 65-caliber handgun; a standard tool among those of his trade, and fit it snugly into the built-in holster of his belt. In the same minute he seized the midnight blue head sash he'd grown accustomed to and tied it in place. It soothed his migraine a little, and equalized the pressure.

He was about to don his trench coat of the same color. But then another violent convulsion shook him and his hunger became too great. Shakily he scrambled through the same drawer, until he found one.

A full needle. Breathing deeply the teen rolled up the right sleeve of his turtleneck and exposed the vein there. He didn't even flinch as it went in. He didn't feel it anymore. All that was there without it was numbness; numbness and pain.

He shuddered as the solution entered his blood, traveling the path of his abused circulatory system. Everything brightened, changed, improved. All debilitating thoughts of the past died, replaced quickly as the caverns of his advanced mind opened wide, welcoming color and light and…complete control. Domination. He wasn't Seto again, rather a mutated, heartless drug lord whose mere sight sent rivals groveling to their knees.

He was ready. Snatching his coat and phone, the brunette turned on his heal and left his room in the Kaiba mansion.

AN: I know nothing really happened here, 'sept a whole lotta gloom and a fashion show, but believe me, everything becomes super important later. Next chapter we meet the thieves and an extremely flirty, precocious Yami, so trust me when I say it's WAY more exciting. Review!