Carly Carmine X Jack Atlas (in other words, The Reporter and The King of Games)
"Oh no, not a rainstorm…. I didn't bring my umbrella… PleasepleasePLEASE don't rain," I begged the thunderous grey skies.
They didn't look inclined to answer my plea as I quickly put my attention back on the road. I was on the way home from work, and it looked like I would be caught in another of Neo Domino's famous rain squalls. I groaned in exasperation at my terrible luck. It didn't help my morale that my Duel Deck mostly relied on my (sweet but very unreliable) Fortune Fairy cards. To be good with such a deck involved a certain amount of luck that I apparently didn't have. Thus my issues with the dratted rain, my temperamental boss, and my absolutely nil love life. Then again, the object of my affections had been away for five years, with very little correspondence between us besides the occasional letter and email and the TV reports on his dueling career I got through my small, battered TV set. A pang of loneliness arced through me, but I ignored it. By now, I was used to feeling lonely in a crowd.
Shaking my head to clear it of stupid, lovesick thoughts, I squealed when I looked up. I had swerved dangerously and people were now apparently vigorously cursing me out in their cars. Someone flipped me the birdie from their sleek, modern green car. I moaned, resisting the temptation to whack my head on the steering wheel of my rattletrap old car. Just great. Another embarrassment to add on top of the heaping helping I had every day in front of Fisher Rathbone (my boss). I had just covered a halfway decent story, however, so I hoped Rathbone wouldn't fire me just yet. Rathbone was constantly threatening me with unemployment when I goofed up or made a completely klutzy move. My coworkers now had a name for when someone screwed up: a "Carly Carmine Caper". Oh yeah. Real clever of you, buddies. I adjusted my glasses, wincing as I quickly readjusted the steering wheel so I wouldn't drive into a street sign.
I sighed wearily as I finally parked beside my apartment building. Home, sweet home to me. With a crack of thunder and a flash of lightning, the skies opened up, releasing a flood of rain. I moaned again, trying and failing to find a bright side to this day. Quickly opening my door, shutting, and locking it I then dashed to the breezeway of the apartment complex. Panting and already soaked to the skin, I fumbled for my key. For once, I found it quickly. Sticking it in the lock, I turned it and tumbled into my darkened apartment. With a great effort and a lot of scrabbling on the wooden floor, I managed to close the mercifully thick door of my apartment. Trying to catch my breath, I fumbled for the light switch.
When it clicked on, I surveyed my small apartment. The small TV, the secondhand couch, and an armchair that painfully reminded me of days gone by (Jack's favorite slouching spot) were the only furnishings in the wood floored, off white walled apartment. I could barely afford the rent on this place, but I fought for it. Too many good memories were held in this place for me to give it up without a fight. I smiled faintly, scrubbing the budding tears from my eyes. A bellow of thunder made me jump. I shouldn't dwell on Jack, I reflected. Even if he hadn't even been rumored to be with another girl the whole five years he had been gone. That still didn't mean he couldn't be with some other, more beautiful girl…
I moaned softly, shaking my head angrily. I had no buissness with Jack Atlas, the King of Dueling. I was just a reporter who happened to be an almost friend of Jack. Who he wrote long, detailed letters to reliving his highest points (mostly duels) in vivid detail. Who he asked about her day, commiserated when Rathbone had been particularly cruel and wrote long, fuming anecdotes on what he would do to Rathbone if he got his hands on him (which always made me laugh, if feel a little scared that his antics would finally get me fired if he ever followed through). Thunder roared again as I stood there in my sopping clothes, remembering the letters and emails I still had on my laptop. I had squirrled away the letters in my battered laptop desk drawer that I kept in my bedroom. Jack's handwriting had been really bad at first, but improved with practice. My eyes, behind my dratted glasses, started to fill with tears again at the spurt of memories.
Jack's laughter. His Australian accent that could melt me in seconds. Even his arrogance and rough n' tough image failed to turn me off, because I knew he had a kinder side. Even his dueling was amazing. Well, especially his dueling. So unlike me… Crappy at dueling, crappy at my job, sucky at my love life. I was bawling, wailing at the top of my lungs in seconds. Thunder rolled again, coming with a flash of lightning. Tears streamed thickly down my face, muddling my too old glasses even further as I plopped down hard on the couch and cried. A few moments into my crying jag, I eeeped as thunder boomed again, coming with a disturbingly near and glaringly loud "CRACK!" Whimpering, I curled into a ball around my Fortune Fairy deck, safely ensconced in my orange fanny pack. That was when I remembered I had left my laptop, my prized possession, in my car.
I stood up, rubbing the tears from my eyes. Scrabbling to the door, I pushed it open with some effort and got out the apartment door, the door smacking shut with a gust of wind. I battled to the car, unlocking the trunk and fishing out my laptop's (waterproofed, a gift from Jack) bag. When I turned around, my eyes widened as I saw something I hadn't seen in five years. And a sight I also pray I will NEVER have to see again.
A beat up, very familiar white and purple Duel Runner was rolling uncharacteristically slowly toward my apartment. A tall, slouched figure rode astride of it. I screamed in shock when I saw said tall, familiar figure slide from the Duel Runner and land on the pavement. I ran over, ignoring the rain as my throat clogged in shock and horror. Jack Atlas lay prone on the pavement, blood trickling from under his cracked duel helmet and from several nasty gashes to his face. His blond hair, what I could see of it, was caked in mud and blood. Jack's white jacketed arms were crooked at odd angles, his face white and his eyes, those beautiful ameythyst eyes, were closed. He was far too still for my liking.
A chill of fear stabbed through me. What if he never opened his eyes again? What if... What if Jack was...dead?
Hi! This is my first YuGiOh 5Ds story, so don't shoot me if Carly is OOC (out of charecter) or anything. Jack keeps up correspondence with Carly even as he travels the world dueling because he wants to feel a link to home more than just Crow and Yusei, so they aren't an official couple yet. Jack's pride wouldn't allow it. ^^ Yes I know the title is corny, to those of you who know the musical with the same name. It's a spurr of the moment thing, which I will finish on my computer even if I don't post it. Review to tell me whether or not I should continue this, or it bores you. Or whateer. Just review my story please! ^^ I know I left a slight cliffie, I'm just evil like that.