Chapter Text
'Spirit...'
The hallway was quiet, permeated only by the voice speaking from the back of his mind and the almost imperceptible buzz of the Millennium Ring. A pause, and then he lowered the Item slightly, one of the golden tines still rigidly pointing straight ahead.
'Why are you awake?' He thought back, eyes narrowed. 'I told you I wasn't done yet.'
'How long has it been?' The voice pressed, sounding more alert by the moment.
'Three days.'
'Three days?!'
Bakura cringed at the sudden pitching of his host's voice. Even though no one else but him would hear it, it still sounded far too loud in the dead air. He resisted the urge to snarl back, teeth bared in warning.
'I needed more time.'
How he wished he could silence Ryou, force him down under his subconsciousness like he used to be able to. Instead, he was forced to cooperate, to appease his landlord, but talking to him for too long set him on edge.
'Just go back to sleep. The Item is close. I'll grab it and we'll be headed back to Domino soon.'
'Headed back to...? Spirit, where are we?'
Ryou's teeth were going to be ground to stubs at this point. Bakura didn't like the constant questioning when he was trying to concentrate. His ears were trained, alert for any chances in his surroundings, but Ryou's voice was like a static interference.
'Would you like to arrive back home in one piece?' He hissed back in their shared mind.
'What do you m-?'
A noise to the left. Bakura jerked his head to see two figures appear, donning bizarre robes. One of them took notice of him and opened his mouth to call out. Bakura growled, the Ring blazing. With a flash, the two of the men were knocked out, but more were sure to be on the way. In fact, he could already hear rapid footfalls making their way down the other end of the hall.
'Spirit, where are we?!' Ryou repeated, but he went ignored as Bakura broke into a run.
As he rounded the corner, he nearly collided with a thick mass lurking in the gloom. Bakura stepped back to look up at the man, spotting a bald head, an unimpressed gaze, and some odd scar pattern running down one side of the stranger's face. He was about to reach for the Ring's power again when another sort of aura surrounded him. Bakura's eyes widened as his body locked up of its own accord, and then was tossed like a rag doll against the nearest wall.
His head cracked against the stone, consciousness bleeding from both of their minds. The last thing Bakura saw was a flash of gold and a black boot entering the corner of his dimming vision.
...
His head swam, vague light and noise filtering in through the lifting fog of unconsciousness. There was a throbbing near his temple, his forehead sticky with something – blood most likely. The sensation was nothing more than a mild pressure in his skull for him, his spirit never sitting quite right in his host's nerves.
Bakura's eyelids fluttered, the light seeping through them from above finally reaching his muddled brain. His head was craned back over something, an uncomfortable kink in his neck. Was he lying down? No, the angle didn't make sense. He had to be sitting in a chair of some sort, his arms firmly set on the rests at his sides. When he tried to move, he found he couldn't.
There were voices, but he couldn't make them out. They dulled to a quiet pause when Bakura stirred, finding it easier to awaken once the situation began to dawn on him. He groaned and jerked himself semi-upright, his head falling forward with a resounding crack. It was really quiet now. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times to clear away the blurriness.
The room was decently lit – he was likely still in the same compound he broke into; there wasn't a drastic change in architecture. However, he wasn't nearly as interested in his surroundings as he was in the hooded stranger standing before him or, more importantly, what they held in their hands.
“Who the hell are you?” Bakura's words came out slurred and not as sharp as he wanted to deliver them.
“I should be asking you that question,” the stranger said. Blond hair fell around lavender eyes, highlighted by the gold sitting upon his forehead. “Mind telling me why you broke into my hideout?” He jabbed a finger at Bakura's chest. “And why you have that?”
Bakura scowled, glancing down at the Millennium Ring his captors had so foolishly left in his possession before he looked back up at the stranger. “Mind telling me what you're supposed to be dressed as?”
A metallic click sounded from directly behind his head. He didn't need to look to confirm there was some manner of firearm aimed at him, but he did anyway, only managing to catch a glimpse of some goon's leg before his head was shoved forward again. He growled at the barrel pressing against his skull, more irritated than anything else. Was he supposed to be intimidated? All it would take was a little tapping into the power of the Ring and the men behind him would be finished.
“You really should give me a reason not to blow your brains out now.” The stranger pulled off his hood, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Something tells me you don't have that little self preservation.”
Bakura found the Rod aimed at him. He realized the position he'd been put in. He could focus on the men behind him, or he could focus on the brat playing mob boss in front of him, but he knew he couldn't target one without leaving himself open to the other. The brat knew it too. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Sobering up and bit and straightening in his seat, Bakura pressed his lips into a thin line and eyed the stranger.
Still, he hadn't been killed yet, so the stranger must have had some sort of interest in him. May as well play along and see where it went. He couldn't afford to have Ryou's head splattered on the neatly polished floors. He didn't travel all this way to be executed.
“Bakura.”
The stranger lowered the Rod slightly, blinking at him. “What?”
“You can call me Bakura,” He said with an easy shrug, looking quite comfortable where he sat. “I broke in because I wanted to take the Millennium Rod.”
“Why do you want the Rod, Bakura?” The stranger sounded genuinely curious, not at all affronted by the notion. Bakura smiled.
“I'm a collector of sorts. I don't just want your Rod, I want all of the Millennium Items.”
“I doubt you want them for decorative purposes.”
Bakura's smile grew wider, lips pulling back to expose teeth. He supposed the stranger was thinking something along the same lines as he was: how much does he know about the Millennium Items?
“Of course not. Anyone who collects all of the Items unlocks the power beyond anything you could imagine.”
After a seconds had passed, the stranger dropped the hand holding the Rod back to his side. He seemed to be in thought, not taking his eyes off of Bakura.
“Malik.” He finally said. “My name is Malik Ishtar.”
Bakura inclined his head slightly. He didn't know why this Malik thought he cared for his name.
“Well, Malik, if you're so concerned with me escaping, why haven't you just taken my Millennium Ring away?”
At that, Malik grinned, mirroring Bakura's expression.
“There's not much sport in that, is there?” He raised the Rod, examining it absentmindedly. It was the picture of deviousness; Bakura wondered what he was up to. “That and I couldn't help but notice that body you have shares two minds. Admittedly, I got curious...”
Bakura was taken aback by that, but he didn't let his surprise show on his face. So not only could Malik use the Rod, but he'd also figured out to invade the minds of others with it. His expression locked up, anger mixing with unease as he wondered just how far Malik could probe and had probed.
“Ryou Bakura, friend of Yugi Mutou and harbouring a much darker spirit. I'm guessing that spirit is who I'm talking to right now?”
“Maybe,” Bakura shrugged his shoulders, a conscious effort to maintain a casual appearance. “I've revealed a bit about myself, now it's your turn. Why are you and your little groupies playing dress-up in those ridiculous robes and old Pharaoh's jewelry?”
Malik chuckled and shook his head as though trying not to look amused by the other male's words. “I assume you're unfamiliar with the Ghouls, but I'm afraid discussion on that will have to wait until later.” He sighed, nodding to himself – Bakura got the distinct impression he'd decided on something without asking for a second opinion. “In the mean time, I think I may have use for you.”
Bakura snorted, rapping his nails on the arm of the chair. “What if I'm not in the mood for being used, Malik Ishtar?”
Malik smiled at him again, venomous and cutting. “You seem to be under the impression that I'm giving you a choice.”
He waved the hand that wasn't holding the Rod. Bakura expected some manner of violent persuasion, but what came next took him off guard. The gun was retracted from his head and he heard the shuffling of feet as Malik's henchmen went to exit the room, leaving the two of them alone. There was a heavy thunk as the door closed behind them.
“Are you sure you should send away your lackeys? I could overpower you,” Bakura said, the Millennium Ring burning with power where it rested against his chest. He could feel the warm gold through the fabric of Ryou's shirt.
As if to insult his ability, Malik faced away from him, heedless of any danger. Bakura couldn't decide whether to be impressed by his guts or just pissed off. An Item's power was nothing to scoff at. When Malik spoke again, Bakura could hear the smile in his voice.
“Maybe, but I don't think you will.”
“And why's that?” Bakura growled. He wasn't sure what was keeping him from using the Ring to break free and focusing his power on Malik. The other male turned to look back over his shoulder, something cunning in his lavender gaze.
“Because I know that simply having all of the Millennium Items isn't enough to get what you're after.”
Bakura blinked slowly. Was he lying? He stared at Malik for a long while, trying to figure him out, if there was any truth to his claims. He was beginning to find himself more interested in Malik, how he'd come to possess an Item, and why he apparently knew more about their secrets than Bakura did.
Just who was he?
Sensing that he had his attention, Malik inclined his head in his direction.
“I'll tell you this: I have no interest in the Items. Once I've accomplished what I've set out for, the Rod will mean nothing to me.”
“And what are you looking to accomplish?”
Something about Malik's expression changed, darkening somehow, like a cloud had covered the sun. “Let's just say there's a certain person I'm looking to be rid of... permanently.”
“A vendetta?” Bakura found himself smirking. Yes, this Malik was becoming more fascinating with each passing second.
“More or less.” Malik nodded. “If you agree to help me, I'll give you the Rod when I have no more use for it, as well as the secret to opening the Door of Darkness. Not only that, but I can give you the location of another Millennium Item.”
Bakura considered this. In his eyes it was a bargain for more than he could have hoped for, but it made him suspicious for the very same reason. “Seems like a lot you're willing to offer to someone you just met.”
“I've seen into your host's memories with the power of my Rod. I know he's close to my target.”
It all was beginning to make sense now. Malik saw him as a stepping stone he could use to reach the unlucky soul he'd set his sights on. There was only one person Bakura could picture it being – yet another tied to the fate of the Millennium Items.
“Yugi.” He stated.
“I see we're on the same page.” Malik's grin was back, and it somehow looked even more wicked than before. “Awfully convenient you showed up at this time. I'm almost glad you broke in.” He turned back around to face Bakura fully. “So, are you going to cooperate? I can give you several minutes to decide, if you want.”
It wasn't much of a choice. On one hand he knew he needed Yugi alive, at least temporarily, but at the same time he was curious to see how this would pan out – and no one said he had to remain loyal to Malik until the end. What Malik offered was invaluable, and he didn't have any other leads to go on. He barely needed a minute to make his decision.
“Alright,” Bakura said. “I'll agree to work with you.”
“Good choice.” Malik seemed pleased. He reached into his robes, fumbling for something for a moment, before withdrawing a small ring with a key on it. He tossed it to Bakura, who managed to catch it on the tip of his finger. It didn't take him long to maneuver the keys around so he could unlock the handcuffs. Bakura stood up, idly rubbing the creases on his wrists.
“So what do you want me to do?”
“Nothing, until the time is right.” Malik seemed to be looking at something far off in the distance. “But I can sense that time will come very soon.”
Bakura aimed a sour look at his back, not at all thrilled with the idea of waiting. “Right, so... I'll just be leaving now.”
“No you won't.” Malik turned to him again. “You'll be staying here until it's time to move out. I don't know how you found my base, but I can't have just anyone waltzing in and leaving with the knowledge of where it lies. Surely you understand?” He gave a sweet smile that had Bakura reconsidering his choice not to just kill him now.
“Won't my host's disappearance arouse suspicion?”
“Perhaps,” Malik rolled the Rod between his fingers, “but I know Ryou Bakura lives alone, his father often off on business in Egypt. He is quite socially isolated, even with his group of friends. Fabricating an excuse won't be difficult.”
“Sounds like you've thought this out.” But Bakura had to wonder how Malik knew so much about Ryou already, yet not as much about the spirit dwelling within him. Was that where the limit to Malik's power was drawn?
“Yes, unlike you, apparently.” Malik's brows climbed up his forehead. “You didn't have much of a plan coming in here, did you?”
Bakura bristled. “Don't push me, you brat.”
“Anyway, if you'll follow me, I can show you where you'll be staying.”
Malik turned and that was the end of that. He walked as though he expected Bakura to comply without question, and the most humiliating part was Bakura found no reason not to cooperate at the time. He shoved his hands in his pockets as Malik led them through the hallways, staring at his back like he was trying to burn a hole in it.
It wasn't long before they arrived at a room. Malik opened the door and allowed Bakura to step inside. It was unimpressive, merely consisting of a bed and a shelf with a few drawers, plus a closet which Bakura assumed stored utilities. Not exactly the five star treatment, but such things truly didn't matter to him.
“My very own holding cell. You really went all out.”
Malik smirked, amused. “You can think of it like a holding cell if you want, but I don't think of you as my prisoner.”
“Then what am I?”
“A... temporary associate.”
“I see.”
“I'll give you a more detailed tour of the facilities later. For now, I'd imagine you're exhausted.” Malik gestured with his chin. “There's a first aid kit in the bottom cupboard by the way.”
“Oh, how generous,” Bakura said, reaching up to touch his forehead, still tacky with blood. The wound wasn't severe enough to require medical attention in his eyes, however.
Malik turned to leave, but not before throwing one last pointed look over his shoulder.
“Remember, if you want the Items and the secret to the Door of Darkness, you'll do as I say.”
Bakura's lips curved into a sarcastic grin. He crossed his legs at the ankle, dipping in an equally as mocking bow. “But of course, your majesty.”
He could see Malik fighting not to roll his eyes and inwardly wondered just how much he could get that aristocratic visage to crack. A moment later, the door shut and Bakura was left alone to reflect on what had just taken place. He could be certain of relatively little, only that he had an alliance, however temporary or unstable, and that alliance was with a brat pretending to be royalty.
“Well, this didn't exactly go as planned...” He mused under his breath, prodding the other mind connected with his own. “Oi, landlord.”
There was a responding stir in the back of his mind, his host only just recovering from the mild head trauma they'd both sustained.
'What... happened...?'
Bakura clicked his tongue against his teeth. He hated having to speak with Ryou, and only did so out of necessity. He sat down on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees.
“Long story short, we're going to be staying with someone for a bit. If you wake up in an unfamiliar room, don't be alarmed. I have it under control.”
'Spirit, what did you do?!'
Bakura felt Ryou's energy swell, chafing against him, the sensation unpleasant. His jaw clenched in irritation, knowing how demanding Ryou could get with details. He only hoped he could sate him with something to show for all of his efforts soon. “Nothing. Shut up and go back to sleep.”
'Where are we? Who are we staying with?'
Bakura didn't answer right away. One of his hands brushed against the Ring dangling from his neck, fingers twirling the gold in slow deliberation. As the tines produced a haunting chime, a grin crawled across features that were not his own.
“Some little upstart that goes by the name Malik Ishtar.”