Meet Your Maker

By Snare-chan

Pairings: None
Ratings: T
Category(ies): General
Warning(s): Spoilers for the second DVD 'movie' of Capsule Monsters
Status: One-shot, complete
Summary: (Takes place in the Capsule Monster series) Bakura, at this point still in Yami and Yugi's puzzle, runs across a familiar face.

Notes: I definitely took a lot of liberties with this story, but I'd like to think it was for the greater good. Or as good as it can get when it concerns the tomb robber. That and I did this fanfic more out of enjoyment than to be a nonfictional add-on to the series.

It was sparked from watching the second 'movie' DVD with a friend (who else but Cassandra Cassidy? ;P), and upon discovering just who might have been (though us fangirls TOTALLY know who) behind the whole Alexander the Great fiasco and then later on how Yami chose to get around a certain moment in battle with the 'evil' half of the old warrior. Coupled with my uncanny infatuation with Bakura coming out of nowhere and decking people, this tale was inevitable.

Credit goes to Cassandra Cassidy for helping me with the title. :)

Disclaimer: I dun own YuGiOh!: Capsule Monsters; wish I did like everyone else. They should put YGO!: CapMon in stock, then I'd buy it all!


2,997...

Stone grated on stone, an old crumbling door grinding across the floor with a quick force that showed it hadn't been handled in such a way in a long, long time.

2,998...

Rubber soles kicked up dust and other, larger grit as they passed over the weakened brick ground.

2,999...

A pale hand reached out from the darkness to shove open another crumbling door, the scenery beyond revealing no alteration, no clues, and no reprieve.

3,000.

With a hardened scowl in place, Bakura didn't bother turning around to close his previous passage and instead chose to simply kick it shut with the back of his foot. It slammed shut with a pitiful whine, the frame giving protest by spilling some loose sand and tiny clouds of dirt. He ignored it, stepping out of range of the door's display of weakness and standing close to the edge of the 'new' platform he'd found himself on.

He'd been at this for days, traveling up, left, clockwise, and around, avoiding the poor excuses for traps and going through utterly countless numbers of doors. Well, technically 3,000 since he'd started counting, but that fact didn't ease his distaste for the situation in the slightest; rather, it added to it. That, and he was beginning to feel as if he were walking around in circles.

What am I missing? he mused, eyes narrowing as he surveyed the large expansive space for the umpteenth time. This particular corridor was no different than any of the others; that much, he could deduce. The tomb robber had seen nothing but the same stairways, doorways, and passageways since the moment he'd stepped foot in here. Some did vary, but not in a manner that aided him. Most doorways simply led to other doorways or rooms, which would simply continue the endless, plain space for all of forever.

There were some, however, that led to dead ends or traps, the latter being the most bothersome. They were reasonably easy to deal with, though the first time he'd encountered one, he was loathe to recall how taken by surprise he was. Bakura had nearly been overtaken by a horde of billowing spirits, their white streams for bodies wrapping around his limbs and leaving him immobile. Of course he dealt with them, but not without great risk of being discovered, having had to resort to his magic prowess to get rid of them. Thankfully, the pharaoh was none the wiser, and Bakura'd been nothing but utterly cautious ever since.

And he'd had to avoid that ridiculous guardian hallway, which strangely hadn't been all that manageable. The thief didn't fear having to fight off a large array of monsters. What he was concerned with was the fact that the Dark Magician resided there, and he knew that it was capable of far more than simply attacking in defense. It'd be a waste of valuable time and energy to fight it, and it would, without a doubt, tip off Bakura's whereabouts to its little masters before he could probably finish it. And he couldn't possibly have that, not this far in the game and so very close to the bounty.

He had to be getting closer, he had to.

Scowling at the view in front of him, he determined that since he'd vaguely been traveling in a straight line, he should switch it up now and head towards the doors up near the ceiling. As he made to do so, his eyes suddenly widened at the sight of an oncoming projectile, his body reacting purely on instinct as he jumped backwards and flush with the wall. His clothes and hair billowed as whatever the flying object was rushed past and kicked up grime all the while as it disappeared through a door directly below. The door slammed shut behind it, sounding as if ready to crack at the treatment.

Bakura did not chance a move, deciding his best course of action was to remain in the shadows to observe. His choice left little for reward as his attention was brought to his right, the blur of color returning to dash across his field of vision and vanish once more through a door. This proceeded to happen several more times, Bakura's eyes even hard-pressed to keep up with the constant act of trying to catch where it would appear next and keeping his sights on it when it did.

Is that the pharaoh? Has he finally gone mad?

The concept wouldn't have surprised him, actually. Mind, he would be disappointed if that were the case, since he'd been hoping to be the one to put the other in such a state.

But after one more moment of watching the thing bounce around like a pinball in its holed machine, he realized this couldn't be the Egyptian king. They didn't feel right. Like Bakura himself, Yami scented of ancient magic, of sand dunes and barren tombs. This rapidly-moving maniac was none of those things – he sensed white marble and old magic, not ancient, merely old. This thing was a mere amateur, no, a child in comparison to what he and the pharaoh represented.

And they were here, invading his operation.

Sneering, he stepped back into view, and he calculated. Whoever it was had first come from above, then from the right, and continued from across the way, then below to the left...he continued until he came to where he'd last seen them. At first, it seemed too daunting and difficult a task to figure out where the other could be, until something occurred to him. The only logical place they could be was the least logical of them all.

Turning around, he stepped slightly to the side and held out an arm, making a fist just as the door burst open. Bracing himself, the other's face connected squarely with his hand and they were cleanly knocked on their back in the process, temporarily out cold. The tomb robber hadn't so much as flinched at the contact.

Too easy.

Leisurely, he went about kneeling to inspect the intruder, taking him harshly by the hair and turning his face to where he could see it. He promptly released him with a vicious snarl, his indignation all but manifesting itself around him.

"How the hell did a pompous failure like you manage to last?!" he demanded, despite knowing the other couldn't possibly answer him, much less hear. "I thought I left you and your useless quartet of worshippers to perish!"

He recognized the person, once ruler of an enormous empire and now known in Ryou's history books as none other than Alexander the Great. Personally, he recognized him as the greatest moron that had ever ruled, his ambition for domination and power equal to Bakura's own if only because he rather put it there. The fool had found 'him,' as in the ring he resided in, when his campaign to conquer the Persian Empire (thus Egypt), had successfully taken place. He'd donned the Millennium Item, thinking to harness its magical energies to further his cause, but instead it enabled Bakura to easily influence his actions.

The man wouldn't lie: it had been nice controlling him while it lasted. Having an empire at his own fingertips had been quite the feeling, and sending armies to kill entire masses at war hadn't been half bad either. But at the time that was only a small, insignificant point in his plans as soon as he discovered what the man could be capable of gaining.

There had been rumors of a legendary pyramid that held the power of the universe, and any king able to solve its riddles was worthy of obtaining said power. By then, the man was putty in his hands, easily lusting for more and more control; needless to say, it was all too easy talking the buffoon into going on a small side mission to defeat this monument and whatever it sent their way.

What a bust that had been.

After all the wasted time on fighting through the Capsule Monster world, it was all for naught. The man was not this 'one' who was legendary enough to open the door, so Bakura'd ditched them all in the manner he saw fit. Apparently, he hadn't done a good enough job, because here he was, looking down at the man who has nothing.

Which suddenly bode the question of how? His magic was sub-par, thus it stood to reason that it would be impossible for his spirit to travel all this way just to invade the Pharaoh's precious puzzle in Yugi's hometown. There also wasn't any word of a new museum exhibit that he'd heard of, nor did he recall having heard news of a pyramid being discovered that could have belonged to the emperor. This could only mean the Pharaoh and his host had gone to him.

"Oh, Pharaoh, how very busy you are," he mused aloud, returning to his full height to tower over the blond's prone form, "And how very predictable of you, Alexander, to bite off more than you can possibly chew."

Idly, he tapped the other's ribs with his toe, an evil gleam entering his eye. "Well, I have no qualms with the pharaoh teaching you a lesson and finishing you off for me; less hassle on my part. But I can't justify just leaving you here…"

Taking the man by the scruff of his collar, he hauled him towards a door and, using his free hand, he placed his palm flat against it. A menacing sensation leaked through that pressed against his fingertips and seeped into his skin like frozen oil. Grinning at finding what he wanted on his first try, he snapped the door open, a gust so powerful that it nearly blew the two gentlemen away billowing past. The powerful winds were accompanied by wails and the clang of swords, of battle cries and arrows firing.

Firmly planted in place, Bakura held the other man closer, bleeding arms and armored fingers and burned, broken flesh reaching out to latch onto Alexander and drag him in. With a bit more force than necessary, he slammed the door closed on the battle scene, locking the blond inside to face his fate – whether it were to rot in there for all eternity or eventually be released by the pharaoh. Whatever the case, he couldn't find it within himself to care.

Casually, he dusted his hands off together, wiping away the nonexistent filth that resided there from his task, and proceeded on his way to the next nearest door.

He resumed counting.

3,001…

The screams of a man's indignation and fear could be heard echoing through the air.

3,002…

They were cut off without warning, the silence even more pregnant now than it was to begin with.

3,003…

Another door closes, another one opens.

-Fin-

A/N: And then we know how it ends, with Alexander being knocked out of the puzzle and getting his butt whooped. Yippe!

It wasn't until I was finished with this fic that I wondered if the darker half of Alex was referred to as Alexandros, but I can't recall, and I think it still stands since I have a theory that Alexander wasn't split in half at first (as he assumed), that it was Bakura influencing him and then when the thief ditched him he then split the other man's soul in half, or something along those lines, so Bakura would only remember him as Alexander the Great. -shrugs-