Disclaimer: No, I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh. If I did, Anzu and Shizuka would be
dead and Malik would wear leather. -sigh- If only, if only.
Anyways, this is just a random story. I was in an angsty mood and had the sudden urge to attempt to write a fanfic. This is my first fanfic and I'd love to get reviews.
- - is a flashback
Warning: Mild violence and swearing are included in this chapter. Well, only one swear word really.
The End
A cry echoes through the still night as a shuddering body hits the ground. Bronze skin is scarred, stained with dirt, sweat and blood. Lavender eyes filled with hatred and rage. The slim teenager shakily gets back to his feet, but his immediately shoved back to the ground, falling hard on his back. Maniacal laughter follows this, it's source concealed in the shadows. "Bas-Bastard..." The young Egyptian hisses through clenched teeth, eyes searching the shadows.
"Now, now Malik, you know your rage only makes me stronger. I was born from your hatred, I feed off of it." Malik's darker half said in a mocking tone. The insane spirit stepped closer and knelt down beside the one named Malik. "But now that I have my own body, I don't need you anymore." Marik laughed again, getting to his feet and dragging his light with him.
Malik's lavender eyes were widened. "You-You're going to kill me? You can't! It's my life!" He screamed, struggling to escape the stronger one's grip.
Marik smirked. "It's -my- life now, fool. Don't you see? I am you now."
"No you're not! You're not me! You never will be!" Malik Ishtar cried, anger building inside the lavender eyes.
The psychotic spirit flung the former tomb keeper to the ground. "No...I'm not you. You are me. A lesser version of me. A pathetic waste of a body. I'm doing the world a favour you know. No one cares about you. No one."
Malik flinched and stared up at his dark, his yami. So this is how his life would end? He would die alone, at the ends of the creature that was created out of his hate and anger. The hate that he had for Atemu. The anger he felt when he found out he would spend his entire life waiting for the Pharaoh to return. The hate for his freedom less life. The anger he felt when his father had scarred his back, forever bounding him to the fate of the Ishtar name, the fate of the tomb keepers. Yes, that was when Marik had been created. On that very night.
-A blond Egyptian lay whimpering in bed, face buried in the soft down of his pillow. It was Malik on his twelfth birthday. His bronze back was heavily bandaged because of his charred flesh. Ra how it had hurt. And it was all for the Pharaoh. The Pharaoh who had left his family to guard his tomb for generation upon generations. It wasn't fair! Why should he spend his life guarding the tomb? What had the Pharaoh ever done for him?
Malik slowly rose from his bed; tear streaks still visible on the tanned skin of his face. Slowly, as if in a trance, he made his way to the full body mirror. Still with zombie-like movements, the boy began to unravel the white gauze. The bandages fell to the ground and the Egyptian slowly turned. He gazed over his shoulder and into the mirror, where he saw the thick black lines that had been immortalized in is flesh. Anger blazed within him. With a cry of rage, Malik turned and slammed his fist into the mirror, shattering it. Shards of glass fell around him, and he let his hand fall limp at his side. He didn't even feel the pain, or the crimson liquid that trickled from his hand. All he felt was anger. Hatred. He hated his heritage, his destiny, the life he had been born into. He hated all of it. Most of all, he hated Yami. From now on his life wouldn't matter, just his duty. A burden laid on his shoulders for him to carry. A burden that would forever bind him to the Pharaoh's Ra-forsaken tomb.
It was at that moment Malik vowed he would disobey the tradition. He would forsake what went with the Ishtar name. He, Malik, would have the power to control Egypt, not just Egypt, the world! People would bow at -his- feet, not Yami's. His family would no longer be humbled by decades, centuries, millennia of bondage to the unworthy Pharaoh. Yami hadn't repaid his loyal servants, and his family still worshipped him! All because he was Pharaoh. But he, Malik, wouldn't! It was at that moment the Malik decided that he would hold the power of the Gods, the power of the Pharaoh. It was then he decided that it was he who would be Pharaoh.
It was at that moment when Marik was born.-
Marik laughed, staring down at his light. "Well Malik, this is the end." He pulled the Sennen Rod from his belt loop, pausing the admire it's polished golden surface. "I shall send you to the Shadows. You'll spend eternity with them as they devour your soul, bit by bit." Once again, Malik was dragged roughly to his feet by his dark. Marik smirked sadistically and threw the former tomb keeper against a wall. He passed the dagger end of the Sennen Rod across Malik's cheek, causing the exotic skin to break and crimson blood to come forth.
Malik winced and stared as Marik licked the blood of the Sennen Rod as if it were candy.
Marik smirked once more and lifted the Sennen Rod. "Goodbye Malik. I must say, this was incredibly fun. I hope you enjoy the shadows, for this is your end." With that, a golden light shot forth from the golden artifact and struck Malik, Marik laughing manically.
Malik screamed as the golden light enveloped him, eyes shadowed with blackness from the pain. Marik's words echoed in his head, 'This is the end. The end. The end...' Malik's limp and soulless body fell to the ground, and a single tear was visible on his cheek.
Whoo! I'm done. Hm, should that be the end? I can't believe I destroyed Malik. Oh well. Read and rate. Tell me what you think. I may continue it if I get some requests to do so. I hope you enjoyed it! Please rate it!
Anyways, this is just a random story. I was in an angsty mood and had the sudden urge to attempt to write a fanfic. This is my first fanfic and I'd love to get reviews.
- - is a flashback
Warning: Mild violence and swearing are included in this chapter. Well, only one swear word really.
The End
A cry echoes through the still night as a shuddering body hits the ground. Bronze skin is scarred, stained with dirt, sweat and blood. Lavender eyes filled with hatred and rage. The slim teenager shakily gets back to his feet, but his immediately shoved back to the ground, falling hard on his back. Maniacal laughter follows this, it's source concealed in the shadows. "Bas-Bastard..." The young Egyptian hisses through clenched teeth, eyes searching the shadows.
"Now, now Malik, you know your rage only makes me stronger. I was born from your hatred, I feed off of it." Malik's darker half said in a mocking tone. The insane spirit stepped closer and knelt down beside the one named Malik. "But now that I have my own body, I don't need you anymore." Marik laughed again, getting to his feet and dragging his light with him.
Malik's lavender eyes were widened. "You-You're going to kill me? You can't! It's my life!" He screamed, struggling to escape the stronger one's grip.
Marik smirked. "It's -my- life now, fool. Don't you see? I am you now."
"No you're not! You're not me! You never will be!" Malik Ishtar cried, anger building inside the lavender eyes.
The psychotic spirit flung the former tomb keeper to the ground. "No...I'm not you. You are me. A lesser version of me. A pathetic waste of a body. I'm doing the world a favour you know. No one cares about you. No one."
Malik flinched and stared up at his dark, his yami. So this is how his life would end? He would die alone, at the ends of the creature that was created out of his hate and anger. The hate that he had for Atemu. The anger he felt when he found out he would spend his entire life waiting for the Pharaoh to return. The hate for his freedom less life. The anger he felt when his father had scarred his back, forever bounding him to the fate of the Ishtar name, the fate of the tomb keepers. Yes, that was when Marik had been created. On that very night.
-A blond Egyptian lay whimpering in bed, face buried in the soft down of his pillow. It was Malik on his twelfth birthday. His bronze back was heavily bandaged because of his charred flesh. Ra how it had hurt. And it was all for the Pharaoh. The Pharaoh who had left his family to guard his tomb for generation upon generations. It wasn't fair! Why should he spend his life guarding the tomb? What had the Pharaoh ever done for him?
Malik slowly rose from his bed; tear streaks still visible on the tanned skin of his face. Slowly, as if in a trance, he made his way to the full body mirror. Still with zombie-like movements, the boy began to unravel the white gauze. The bandages fell to the ground and the Egyptian slowly turned. He gazed over his shoulder and into the mirror, where he saw the thick black lines that had been immortalized in is flesh. Anger blazed within him. With a cry of rage, Malik turned and slammed his fist into the mirror, shattering it. Shards of glass fell around him, and he let his hand fall limp at his side. He didn't even feel the pain, or the crimson liquid that trickled from his hand. All he felt was anger. Hatred. He hated his heritage, his destiny, the life he had been born into. He hated all of it. Most of all, he hated Yami. From now on his life wouldn't matter, just his duty. A burden laid on his shoulders for him to carry. A burden that would forever bind him to the Pharaoh's Ra-forsaken tomb.
It was at that moment Malik vowed he would disobey the tradition. He would forsake what went with the Ishtar name. He, Malik, would have the power to control Egypt, not just Egypt, the world! People would bow at -his- feet, not Yami's. His family would no longer be humbled by decades, centuries, millennia of bondage to the unworthy Pharaoh. Yami hadn't repaid his loyal servants, and his family still worshipped him! All because he was Pharaoh. But he, Malik, wouldn't! It was at that moment the Malik decided that he would hold the power of the Gods, the power of the Pharaoh. It was then he decided that it was he who would be Pharaoh.
It was at that moment when Marik was born.-
Marik laughed, staring down at his light. "Well Malik, this is the end." He pulled the Sennen Rod from his belt loop, pausing the admire it's polished golden surface. "I shall send you to the Shadows. You'll spend eternity with them as they devour your soul, bit by bit." Once again, Malik was dragged roughly to his feet by his dark. Marik smirked sadistically and threw the former tomb keeper against a wall. He passed the dagger end of the Sennen Rod across Malik's cheek, causing the exotic skin to break and crimson blood to come forth.
Malik winced and stared as Marik licked the blood of the Sennen Rod as if it were candy.
Marik smirked once more and lifted the Sennen Rod. "Goodbye Malik. I must say, this was incredibly fun. I hope you enjoy the shadows, for this is your end." With that, a golden light shot forth from the golden artifact and struck Malik, Marik laughing manically.
Malik screamed as the golden light enveloped him, eyes shadowed with blackness from the pain. Marik's words echoed in his head, 'This is the end. The end. The end...' Malik's limp and soulless body fell to the ground, and a single tear was visible on his cheek.
Whoo! I'm done. Hm, should that be the end? I can't believe I destroyed Malik. Oh well. Read and rate. Tell me what you think. I may continue it if I get some requests to do so. I hope you enjoyed it! Please rate it!
