He could feel his heart pulsing. Was it his heart? Yes, maybe.

Something was pounding in his ears. Yes, that must have been his heart.

But for some reason, he knew it wasn't. After the Battle City incident,

his vessel was damaged. Permanently. His mind recalled the incident,

although he didn't want to.

"Marik, you fool. I told you, I tried. You cannot blame me for the

Pharaoh's victory - perhaps it was just a flaw in your own plan."

"I don't want to hear your pitiful excuses. You have failed me, and

that is all to it. Of course, with every failure comes a punishment."

Marik turned around to face to the spirit of the Ring. He smirked and

looked down at the Tombraider's spirit, kneeling like a dog on the grass.

The evil member of the Ishtar family rose his Rod. Bakura's eyes

widened in anxiety. He knew what was coming. He opened his mouth to

respond, but there was no time. It was finished. He was finished.

Bakura awoke with a start, lying in a pink bed. He didn't care about

decorating or fashion, but it was out of the line for him.