A/N: I was half asleep when I came up with this idea. I guess it sort of stuck…

Please excuse any OOC characters. To be honest, I've only seen the abridged series. But a friend (XxDragonEyexX) is helping me write this to make sure it's IC.

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! or any of it's characters.

Marik Ishtar walked briskly toward the exit of the department store, so aware of the security guard standing by his only escape and even more aware of how the loaded backpack he was carrying would slow him down if it came to running. He evened out the features of his face, trying to look as casual as possible. But that was hard—even for him, when he was so used to it—given that he had stolen merchandise in his backpack. It was nothing major, like solid gold jewelry (even though that wasn't a bad idea, as he could pawn it). It was just dinner (a bag of chips and a can of soda) and a new shirt, for most of his clothes were torn and ragged, and he couldn't rely on his dad for things like that.

Marik glanced one more time at the guard, to make sure he wasn't looking (he wasn't) in his direction, and quickened his pace. He knew it was stupid and dangerous to act suspicious, but he couldn't help it. He really would have enjoyed getting caught, just for the exhilaration of the chase. After all, the teenage Egyptian had never been caught doing anything wrong. Not saying he hadn't stolen, cut school, vandalized the buildings of the town, beat up old ladies in the park (just kidding), or picked fights just because he felt like it before. He'd just never been stupid enough to get himself caught.

He took a deep breath. He didn't plan on changing that, either, no matter what he wanted. Needs came first, and he needed something to eat. He was approaching the security guard. His large muscles tensed, readying for flight.

And that's when he tripped. He didn't even know what he'd tripped over. Maybe it was karma finally coming back to kick him in the butt.

His backpack flew out of his hand, landing at the feet of the guard, all the while letting out a strange hissing sound. Marik spat out a curse, trying his best to stand up while staring, horrified, at the backpack.

"Oh!" The security guard seemed to finally have pulled his thumbs out of his butt long enough to notice something had gone amiss in his store. He reached down and picked up the backpack. It was leaking some sort of brown liquid.

The soda Marik had stealthily removed from a twenty-four pack back in aisle nine, no doubt.

The security guard unzipped the backpack, to Marik's complete terror, and removed the spewing soda, tossing it in a nearby trashcan. "You've got to be more careful, kid." He said, handing the soaked backpack to Marik.

He almost laughed at his dumb luck. So much for karma. Maybe this guy's just stupid, he thought. "Thanks, sir." He offered his very sweetest smile, taking the bag.

But, unfortunately for the Egyptian teen, his grip wasn't quite as tight as he'd thought, and the wet backpack raced to the floor, all of its contents displaying themselves for the guard.

Marik hadn't bothered to take the tags off the shirt. He would have enjoyed the chase the alarm would have triggered.

For a moment, they just stared at each other. The guard's gaze danced down to the stolen items, suddenly realizing that there was something wrong with the picture. But when he looked up again, Marik was gone, taking off into the parking lot. As soon as he saw it, he headed to his motorcycle (a sixteenth birthday gift from Ishizu, who had moved away from home a few years ago to live back in their homeland, Egypt) and hopped on, quickly starting it and driving off.

But in the words of a pessimist, you can't run from the law.

Eventually, he was stopped, blocked from both sides by two police cars. He scowled, as the driver's of the cars hopped out, telling him that they were armed. "Stand up slowly, and put your hands on the small of your back."

He smirked, doing as he was commanded. No point in running now. "Overkill, much?"

The drivers approached him. He recognized one as the guard from the store. A firm grimace messing up his already wrinkled face, he stood behind the other policeman. His gun was poised to shoot.

The policeman's face showed no humor, as to be expected. He rushed up to Marik, telling him his rights while roughly handcuffing him.

..

Later that night, Odion Ishtar's apartment…

It was ten P.M. when Odion got the call from Marik. At first, he'd cursed his cell phone for ringing on his bedside table, but, against the will of his body, he answered it.

He accepted the call, ignoring the crap the mechanized woman's voice spouted about collect calls and said. "Hullo?"

Just from the tone of his voice, Odion could tell Marik was smirking. "Rise and shine, brother. The law finally caught up to me. Could you maybe…?"

Odion sighed. Would Marik ever learn? "Alright. I'll go get Dad and come down there."

"Thanks, man." Marik hung up, not bothering with casual good-byes.

Odion found himself sighing again. Their old man was going to be a pain to convince to go all the way down to the Domino City Jail at ten at night just bail the son he never loved out of jail. Nevertheless, he would. Odion knew it. Especially if he didn't have to pay for it. Which he didn't. Odion had a load of money saved up in the bank just for this day, because he knew it would come. It was inevitable, with all the risks Marik took, no matter how sneaky he was.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and grabbed his car keys off of the kitchen counter. Prepared or not, it was going to be a long, and not to mention expensive, night.

..

The same night, Domino City Jail…

By the time his father and Odion got to the jail to bail him out, Marik had thought about what would happen to him when his dad got a hold of him. There would definitely be yelling, and more than likely a lot of violence.

Needless to say, he wasn't really looking forward to going home, but what choice did he have? It was either go home to get beat up, or stay in jail to get beat up and raped.

He chose to go home.

When the police officer came to the holding cell, his father and Odion right behind him, Marik felt his stomach knot up. Father looked angrier than ever. His face was contorted into a glare from Hell, and there was a large vein throbbing in his neck.

He looked at Odion instead, who just looked worried and maybe a little bit sad. Or was that disappointment? Marik felt the blood drain from his face. It was definitely disappointment.

Suddenly, all worry for his own safety flew away, and Odion's eyes were the only thing he saw. It was a horrible feeling, when you let down your best friend. Especially one that was your half brother.

He was pulled out of his remorseful thoughts by the officer that had escorted them opening up the barred door and saying, "You're free to go. Stay outta trouble, kid."

Marik nodded at him, gratefully. Maybe…just maybe, he would take the policeman's advice.

..

After they'd been escorted out of the building, Odion led Marik and their father to where he'd parked his car. Apparently, Father had decided to ride with Odion to the jail, because he didn't feel like driving himself.

Or maybe it was so he could beat the hell out of me on the way home and when we get there without worrying about getting into an accident, Marik thought. Yeah, probably.

Once they were safely on the road and out of the cameras range, the old man started his nightly routine of torturing Marik by physical and mental pain. And it was quite a reach for the old man to stretch, because Marik was in the backseat, and his father in the front passenger.

"You dumbass, how the hell could you be stupid enough to let this happen?" He yelled, punching Marik in the chest, knocking the wind out of him.

When Marik started gasping for air, even though none was coming, his dad laughed at him. "Does that hurt, kiddo? What about this?"

He closed his eyes as his very own father caught him on the chin with one powerful swing of his fist.

He continued beating the breathless Egyptian boy, insulting him shamelessly, for around ten more minutes, and then Odion intervened. He himself could remember the cruel hand of his father, beating the ever loving crap out of him on a daily basis, so he knew it was always better to just keep quiet and ignore it, to try to block out the pain rather than fighting back, because that would only prolong the beating, but this time…

He wasn't going to just watch. How could he, when his brother was in the backseat of his own car, whimpering while curled up in a ball? How could he when he was now nineteen years old, therefore more able to fight back against the old man?

He stopped the car. "Get out." He commanded his father.

"What the hell'd you just say to me, boy?" He turned on Odion.

He didn't give in to the scary glare, the raised fist, even though his mind was already screaming in anticipation for the blows that would soon fall upon him. "I said get out of my car. Now."

He felt the slap before it came, emitting a loud smack sound, like a million balloons popping at the same time. "Go!" He yelled, ignoring the pain in his swelling cheek.

The old man hit him again, this time getting his jaw with a powerful punch. He growled in anger. "Don't you dare speak to me like that, you bastard. You should be grateful to me for not kicking your ass out after Marik killed my wife!"

Marik let out a howl of rage, leaning forward enough to punch his dad in the nose. It cracked under his dominant touch. "I did not kill her! You're the one that knocked her up!" Marik knew he was lying to himself, but there was no way he was going to let his dad get away with blaming his sweet, beautiful mother's death on him.

His old man just stared at him in surprise. Marik had never fought back before. His face hardened into a glare, a low growl-like sound escaping his lips. "You're dead."

Marik flinched back, his eyes closed, half expecting his father to pounce on his chest and strangle him to death. But nothing came. In fact, when he opened his eyes, his father wasn't moving, his eyes half open, leaning against the door with his neck lolling to the side. There was blood leaking out of his right ear.

"Is he…is he dead?" Marik asked, seeing the smug smile on his brother's face.

"No. He's just knocked out." Odion explained. "I unbuckled while you were distracting him, and landed a kick on the side of his head. The force made his head fly backward and he hit it on the window. I think I blew out an ear drum…"

Marik, in spite of himself, laughed. "So, what do we do with him?"

Odion bit his lip, buckling his seat belt. "I suppose we take him home. You're house is only a few more minutes away, so we should be able to just drop him off in the floor and then go back to my apartment."

And they did. Marik stayed with Odion for the next two weeks, waiting for their dad to cool down before he went home.

…

A month later, in the Domino City Courthouse…

"I've heard enough." Said the judge, formally folding her hands on the tabletop in front of her. "I sentence you to sixty-nine hours of community service at the Domino Institution, Mr. Marik Ishtar. You will work for eight weeks, two hours after school on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday, and for six hours every Saturday. Case dismissed."

Marik scowled. He had track practice on Monday and Wednesday, and meets on Thursday. Either this judge was bad at choosing random days, or she was out to ruin his life. Track was his favorite thing in the world. When he was running, he wasn't concentrating on his troubled home life, or if he'd have food for dinner that night…he was concentrating on making his opponent choke on his dust as he flew across the asphalt faster than anyone else could even attempt.

But now, he would be forced to quit the team so he could hang out with the loony's. Ugh, could his life get any worse?

That night, he went home with his dad instead of Odion.

And he decided, yes, his life could get much, much worse.

…

A/N: I just have to say that it turned out a lot more dramatic than I thought it would. And a lot longer…

Bakura will come in in the next chapter.