Seto saves the Teaboy (YuGiOh!/Torchwood COE, parody fic)

My lame attempt at some humour

Seto Saves the Tea-boy

Two-hundred and thirty-two.

Seto made a disgusted face during licking the gum paper seal of the envelope. His features wrinkled with even more revulsion as he pressed the flap down firmly to secure its contents. He hated the taste that had lingered in his mouth for over the past forty minutes, but it was a task that needed to be done.

A self-bracing sigh escaped from the CEO as he picked up the next envelope in line and stuck out his tongue once more. Two-hundred and thirty-three.

There was a light tapping on the office door, and a few seconds later his brother cautiously entered.

Mokuba now had a spring in his step as he happily wandered in to approach his workaholic brother but suddenly froze at the sight that met his eyes. “Seto?”

Two-hundred and thirty-four. He made a mental note of his last count before he spoke. “Yes Mokie?”

“Why?” The younger brother gasped in exasperation before running a hand down his face. “Bro, you seriously have to let this go.”

“No.” Seto dropped another teabag into the small pre-addressed paper pouch and moistened the flap. Two-hundred and thirty-five. “They’re not going to get away with this. They’ll soon see what a big mistake they’ve made.”

“How?”

The stare Seto gave his brother was almost as bitter as the taste inside his mouth. How could Mokuba not see that he was intending to mail hundreds of teabags in a peaceful protest over his favourite TV character’s, - pointless, - onscreen death? He poked his tongue out and continued with his mission. Two-hundred and thirty-six.

A burst of hysterical laughter gushed out of Mokuba’s mouth. “All that’s going to do is keep the TV station stocked up on tea for the next year or two.”

“Well, since you disapprove of this method …”

“No Seto, we agreed; no more killing the writers who ruin your favourite TV shows!”

“You never let me have any fun.” A pout from the older brother as another envelope was raised up to his mouth. Two-hundred and thirty-seven.

“I just don’t see how sending in hundreds of teabags is going to make a difference.”

A sardonic smirk crept on Seto’s face. “Me neither, but it will really piss off Aaron R. Gloatsheer.” He indicated his computer’s monitor screen with a slight bow of his head before his features then morphed in revulsion. Two-hundred and thirty-eight.

Sighing and shaking his head in disbelief of his brother’s antics, the online interview with the writer/creator/destroyer then caught Mokuba’s attention. He spared the time to read the man’s response to the show’s fan base reaction to the latest season, - that had aired the previous month, - in which he had killed off the popular character who had been loved by just about everyone who had ever watched the series; ‘… If a minority of fantards, - and it is only just a handful of them causing a fuss, - want to behave like spoilt children and spit out their dummies because I decided to kill off the character who happened to make their panties wet, then let them. They should go and watch Paranormal, - ‘cause those boys are extremely pretty, - instead of campaigning to get people sending in teabags as a show of protest. So far we’ve only received three. Ha, some protest! At the end of the day it’s my call and I’ll do what I bloody well like! My career will survive without the likes of them…’

Two-hundred and thirty-nine. “See? He’s an egotistical, self-centred, arrogant, head up his own ass, lying, bastard!”

“Remind you of anyone?” The rhetorical question was muttered sarcastically.

“Except that I don’t lie.” Seto gave a haughty smirk knowing that his brother was referring to him. He started to rant whilst opening another pack of envelopes to place his teabags in. “There’s more than a handful of distraught fans out there, not all of them like Hanto Phones just for his looks. Plus I know for a fact that I sent a truckload of protests out just last week, so he has received a hell of a lot more than just three.”

“You’ve already wasted your time sending a batch of these, prior to now?” Mokuba was having a hard time trying to process his brother’s behaviour. It was even worse than the times he’d been obsessed with Duel Monsters and making Joey’s life a misery.

He received a nod in response. Two-hundred and forty.

“I thought you’d have at least ordered a member of your staff to do this for you instead of wasting your own time this way.”

The CEO raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner. “Who says that my staff aren’t all busy doing the same thing as I am right now?”

“You’re joking right?”

“I never joke little brother.” Two-hundred and forty-one.

“Seto!” Mokuba screamed as he face-palmed in frustration. “You’re supposed to be the smart one! You’ve got a company to run and if you continue like this then you’re going to lose it, all because of some stupid TV show!”

“Driftwood is not stupid.” Seto stated firmly and then paused with his task as he felt his brother’s eyes glaring right through him. He glared back. “So my profits for this month will take a slight downturn, - it’s no big deal, - it will be worthwhile in the end.”

The gummy seal was licked after a brief silent stare out. Two-hundred and forty-two.

A deep sigh was heaved by the younger brother as he knew it was hopeless trying to change the other’s mind once it was set on doing something. “But I still don’t get why you’re taking this character’s death to a more dramatic level than you did with the other two characters?”

“Posh and Bowen’s exits were completely different; they had a purpose for a start.” Two-hundred and forty-three. “But Hanto’s …… well it just shouldn’t have happened…”

“He’s a fictional character!”

“…Gloatsheer should reconsider what he’s done; he’s clearly killed off his own show because he’s gotten bored of it…”

“If it bothers you that much, then why don’t you acquire the rights to the show and re-write this Hanto guy back into it?”

Two-hundred and forty-fo…. Seto stopped what he was doing. “Hey, that’s not such a bad idea. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you were too blinded and preoccupied with teabag protests, that’s why!”

Lazily the CEO tossed his latest sealed envelope to one side. The ‘Bring Back Hanto Phones’ group would have to do without him now, but if he could get his way they may have to cease protesting full stop.

A horrible taste of the gum paper flaps continued to linger in Seto’s mouth. “Here.” He took a box of teabags from the metre high stack next to him and threw them at his brother. “Don’t just stand there; make yourself useful and go make me a cup of tea.”

“Get bent.” Mokuba snorted in a good-humoured way and threw the box right back. “I’m not your teaboy!” He almost regretted his actions at seeing the frightening look on his brother’s face as he stared, not right back at him, but through him. Lost in scheming thoughts.

Seto suppressed a laugh and slowly rose to his feet, moving from behind his desk to approach his sibling and clasp him on the shoulder. “I think you’re on to something there Mokie.”

And with that, he headed for his office door, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket to contact one of the countless employees he had. “I want you to extend an invitation to Garth Davy-Boyd.” A pause whilst the receiver of his call clarified the man’s identity. “Yes, the guy who plays Hanto Phones in Driftwood. Just make sure he’s here in time for when I get back …”

“Oh no.” Mokuba sighed as he watched his brother disappear out of the room. “What is he up to now?”

Aaron R. Gloatsheer sat behind his desk in his office at PISS, - Programmes Innovative Skilful and Satisfying, - TV’s head building. The room was huge but it was difficult to move in since it was crammed full of letter’s protesting over his decision to kill off the teaboy from his popular Driftwood series.

The truth was that he’d had enough of it and had purposely broken his toys so that no one else could play with them. But once the viewing figures had been revealed to the TV station, they automatically signed him up for another season, much to his dislike. He was now about to break that news to the remaining two cast members, and was sure as hell not going to resurrect the 'fan pleasing' dead man. That would just be likely to increase the show’s popularity once more and spawn more seasons when all he wanted was out so that he could work on other projects.

“Here are your scripts for this final season.” His voice was less than pleased as he handed out the wads of text.

“That’s what you said last time.” Don Sparrowmon grinned as he took his copy. “Not that I’m complaining of course, I love this role.” In fact playing Captain Black was the only thing he was good at. The fans loved him, which had inflated his ego beyond the normality threshold, but nobody else in show business wanted to touch him, - quite literally also, - in casting him for a role.

“I sense that this is going to be a problem for me.” A husky male, - that had once been female, - voice pointed out the dilemma at hand. “When we last saw my character she was pregnant, so how are we going to get away with my sex change? People aren’t stupid, they’re going to notice when Den Hooper suddenly becomes a man! If I had known that there was any chance of a season after the last, then I wouldn’t have gone along with the plastic surgery and hormone therapy …”

“Just relax,” Gloatsheer insisted. “What name are you going by now?”

“Steve.” Steve Smiles confirmed his newly chosen identity.

“Just relax Steve, I’ll make this work. The baby was an alien which grew too big inside her, exploded and transformed Den into a guy.”

Smiles was doubtful at the believability of the plotline. “Will that work?”

“I’m Aaron R. Gloatsheer, of course it will work!”

The phone on his desk rang and it was answered via loudspeaker. “Master Gloatsheer sir, there’s a Mr Seto Kaiba here to see you.”

“Send him away; we’re busy reading through the entire fourth season half hour episode of Driftwood.”

“Too late sir, he gave us the slip and should be knocking on your door any time soon.” The line hung up.

“Seto Kaiba?” Sparrowmon gasped, his wide grin allowing the trademark set of rotten teeth to be on full show. “The head of Kaiba Corp? I wonder what he’s doing here?”

“I don’t know, but I’ve heard he’s an un-likable person.” Smiles comment and scratched at the beard he was not yet used to. “Apparently he’s cold-hearted, self-righteous, and his ego is even bigger than Don’s.”

“Hey, it’s not that big!”

“Oh please.” Gloatsheer rolled his eyes. “My ego far surpasses the pair of them put together multiplied by ten.”

The door suddenly flew open and in strode the young businessman wearing a long, flapping, white sleeveless coat. His piercing blue eyes were aimed directly at the writer. “I’ve come to make you a proposition.”

“If it involves a way to bring back Hanto Phones then you can forget it. Send a teabag like everyone else.”

“I’m here to buy the rights to Driftwood from you.” Seto pulled out his chequebook and twirled the pen in his fingers.

“You’re taking the piss aren’t you?” Gloatsheer sneered. Why the hell would anyone want to buy his crappy broken show? Nobody but himself had the ability to fix it.

“No, I don’t want the TV station, just the show.” He handed over the cheque he had written, unsure if the offer of the five figure sum would be accepted. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so stingy and offered a six figure number instead?

The amount presented to him was more than the writer would have considered selling off his work for so was quite happy to accept the offer made. “You do realise that we’re going to have to sign a contract to make it all official?”

“I’ve got one right here.” Seto whipped out the agreement which he had drawn up during the limo ride from his company’s building. “All it needs is your signature.” He held out his pen and without a second thought, it was taken and beginning of scrawling away Driftwood’s ownership commenced.

“Aaron!!” Sparrowmon and Smiles exclaimed in unison. “You can’t just sell us out like this!”

“Meh.” Gloatsheer shrugged. “Money is the root of all evils, and I just can’t be arsed to provide work for you anymore. Why do you think I started killing off your characters?”

“Ah, but you can’t kill Captain Black, he’s immortal.” Sparrowmon added smugly as he knew that as along as Driftwood continued, he’d always have a part to play and paycheque at the end of it all.

“I’d have found a way.” The signed contract, pen and copy of his script was handed over to the show’s new owner before Gloatsheer began to happily walk away. “Later losers.”

“Well he sure is laughing all the way to the bank.” Smiles sighed heavily as the three of them watched Driftwood’s creator disappear. “Bastard!”

He won’t be laughing so hard once I make that cheque bounce. Seto smirked inwardly at his plan. He’d had no intention of actually paying him. And since that arrogant arsehole never checked the small print, or indeed any of the contract, there’s nothing he can do to about it. A sideways glance was sent to the unfamiliar looking man. “Who are you anyway?”

“Steve Smiles. I used to be the actress who played Den Hooper but I underwent a sex and name change once we finish filming the so-called final season over eight months ago.”

“I see.” Seto grimaced as he’d actually fancied her at one point. He raised the copy of the script and with a little bit of effort, torn in clean in half. “Sorry you guys but there will be no more Driftwood from this point on. The show that I loved died alongside Hanto, but I will honour and pay whatever Gloatsheer had promised you for this fourth season.”

“We hadn’t got that far.” Sparrowmon winced. “You kind of busted in on the read-through before we got to the topic of pay.”

“We’re all settled then.” Seto grinned stupidly.

“I thought you’d say something like that.” Smiles sulked at the chance of easy money being swiftly snatched out of reach.

“There goes my career.” Sparrowmon sounded close to tears. “I’ll never appear on the box ever again now.”

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself.” The CEO wore an earnest face as he clasped the actor’s shoulder and then realised why nobody got close enough to touch him as the guy stank. He hoped Garth Davy-Boyd had been paid handsomely for getting more intimate with him. “You’ve got talent, I’m sure you’ll go far beyond your dreams of stardom.”

“You really mean that?” Water began to form in the eyes of the emotionally moved man. Only a stream of fangirls had ever told him that he had talent, and even then he was fairly sure that they were only referring to his genitals, - which he was never afraid to get out on request or otherwise, - and nothing more.

It was a hard thing to do, and even though Seto could distinguish actor from character, he couldn’t carry on lying to the guy who would forever be Captain Black. “No, of course I don’t.” He laughed in an uncontrolled outburst. “I just like to build people up and watch them fall down.”

With a final clasp on the bewildered actor’s shoulder, Seto was off after having achieved his goal of acquiring the rights to his favourite TV show. Time to save the teaboy.

There was an eerie stillness in Seto’s office as Mokuba sat beside Garth Davy-Boyd on the couch in there. Just what was he supposed to say to a guy who had millions of people from all walks of life mourning over his death? Not his actual death of course, but his character’s death. But there was no other choice for it, he had to say something, anything, was better than silence. “So, you died then?”

“Yes, yes I did.” Garth nodded un-enthusiastically. He’d become bored of answering the same string of questions over the past month so had had his answers printed onto a t-shirt which he currently wore and gestured for the scruffy haired kid to read them.

Quietly Mokuba’s eyes scanned the text forcefully displayed to him; ‘Yes, Hanto is dead. No, there are currently no plans for him to come back to life. Yes, I would like to return to Driftwood. No, I did not want to leave in the first place. Yes, you can have my autograph. No, you can not have my babies.’

“Nice shirt.” The young Kaiba brother spoke rather sheepishly with a quiver of a smile. “Very, er … informative.” The daunting silence returned once more. How much longer are you going to be Seto?

As if by some magical psychic link between them, the older Kaiba entered his office. “Sorry to keep you waiting Garth, thank you for coming.” He offered his free hand, - his other clutching a wad of documents under his arm, - and his guest shook it in return.

“Can you shed some light on what’s going on? Some guy called Roland jumped me, bundled me into a limo, insisted that it wasn’t a kidnap attempt and brought me here.”

“Yeah, not the most subtle lot my employees, I do apologise on their behalf. Anyhow, my name is Seto Kaiba, I’m the CEO of the almighty Kaiba Corporation and the new owner of everything Driftwood.” He held up the contract signed by Aaron R. Gloatsheer to prove his word.

“So that’s where you went.” Mokuba smirked. “Took my advice and bought the show outright instead of continuing that silly teabag protest.”

“My god, you actually took part in that?” Garth laughed but was met with an un-amused glare and quickly changed his tone “I mean, yay good for you, thanks for showing your support.”

“And now that I have all rights and ownerships to the series, I was wondering if you’d like to resume the role of Hanto Phones?” He held up another contract that he had drawn up on his way back from the PISS head building. On the front the summery read; ‘This contract certifies that Garth Davy-Boyd will commence his role of the Teaboy, Hanto Phones, under the employment of Seto Kaiba.’ A smirk at seeing the excited actor. “All you have to do is sign, and you can continue to play him.”

Garth took the contract and idly flipped through the pages, his attention focused on asking his potential employer a few questions. “Why are you offering me my role back?”

Seto shrugged and then gave his explanation. “I’m a fan of the show, and didn’t what to see your character forgotten about in death, so I merely acquired ownership to make sure that he will live on.”

“Finally, a fan that puts their money where their mouth is to get what they want!” He was extremely thrilled to be able to return in a fourth season and possibly more after that. “How long will this last?”

“For as long as you’re willing to uphold the character of Hanto Phones.”

“Can you be more specific?” After the way Gloatsheer had screwed him over, he wasn’t going to be so gullible ever again, and was going to make sure that he was given a decent time span. “Perhaps a minimum time period of guaranteed work?”

“How does five years sound? Ten if you’re willing and we’ll take it from there?”

Ten years equals ten seasons. How long is this guy expecting the show to last? Who cares, as long as I’m getting paid I’ll carry on portraying Hanto for as long as possible. “Ten years sounds fantastic. What about pay?”

“I’ll meet your previous salary and raise it by thirty percent.”

“And my wardrobe? I had to buy all my attire when working for PISS, and I intend not to do the same again, especially since they were all designer brands that I never got to keep. Not even the outfit I died in!”

“I can provide those for you, no problems there.”

A smile curved Garth’s features. “Looks like you got yourself a deal.” He produced a pen of his own and was about to sign his name when he paused.

Seto held his breath.

“What about my scenes with Don? That guy stinks worse than a skunk covered in shit, so I’d rather not do more than is necessary with him.”

“Again, no problems there.” Seto couldn’t stop himself from beaming. It was certain he was getting exactly what he wanted. “I’ll make sure that your contact with him is minimal.”

“Alrighty.” Happy that he had gotten a fair deal, the actor’s signature was scrawled on the dotted line before the contract was handed back to his new boss. “When do we start filming season four?”

“Oh I wouldn’t worry about that just yet.” Seto placed the sheets of paper on his desk and opened up a closet where he kept several of his best suits. He took one down from the rail and handed it to Garth. “Why don’t you go and try this on for size? The bathroom is out in the hall, turn left and it’s the third door on your right.”

Both brothers watched as the man left to change into the outfit he had been given. Once he had gone, Seto was quick to access his account online and cancelled the cheque he had given Aaron R. Gloatsheer.

“Happy now?” Mokuba asked.

“Very much so.” Seto smirked, aware that neither Garth nor his brother had realised what had just happened.

“So, now that you own your favourite TV show, what do you have planned for the next season’s storyline?”

“Sparrowmon and Smiles are already aware of this, but I don’t plan on making more Driftwood.”

“You don’t?” The younger brother was completely at a loss. “Then why sign Garth up for the next ten years…” Something clicked inside his head at the possibility of his brother giving the actor his own spin-off show. “Don’t tell me that you plan on producing something along the lines of, ‘The Hanto Phones Adventures’?”

“Don’t be ridiculous Mokie.” Seto rolled his eyes. “I’ve merely just bagged myself a teaboy for at least the next ten years.”

“Eh?” He was obviously missing something somewhere.

“Think about it.” A malevolent smirk accompanied the CEO’s words. “While all of those fangirls out there are mourning the death of a fictional character, I’ll get to see Hanto Phones in my office each day, and they’ll never get to see him, - even as an actor, being someone else, on the big or small screen, - for the next ten years.” His grin widened. “And you have to admit, he is one extremely pretty teaboy.”

Mokuba struggled to keep his show of hilarity under control and ended up snorting out several bursts of giggles. “You bastard!”

End

A fangirl's dream come true, eh? That was fun!

What with Seto being the fangirl? LOL I never really looked at it like that before, I just saw it as him the guy away from the other fangirls. Making fangirls' lives a misery seems like the kind of thing he'd do, even in a parody.

Ahh, so he really was just being a douchebag. That works too