A/N: Just a little something that incubated in my head while playing Thieves of Egypt solitaire and formed while in the car with my dad. My dad has absolutely nothing to do with it.
Who am I? I am the Thief King. That's my name. That's what I do.
How many villages have I burned? I can't count. The sound of crackling fire fascinates me. The way it eats the fabric, burns the stone, scorches the roads excites me. The flickering red, yellow, orange dazzles me. I relish the sound of the screams. I stand to the side, watching people run out of their homes into the streets. I watch them stare in horror as their possessions are destroyed. I watch the flesh being burned. I watch them die. I watch a family being torn apart. They call it Evil. I call it Revenge.
How many times have I pillaged the tombs? I've lost track. The treasure attracts me. The pharaohs have so much gold and jewels. They won't miss a few pieces. The risk of being caught is stimulating. But I will never be caught. Others, yes but not me. I am the King of thieves, the King of stealth. The day I am caught is the day I die. They are afraid of disparaging a name. If a pharaoh was good, he will be remembered as good. If he was bad, he will be remembered that way. What I do doesn't change that. I'll keep doing it until I am caught. I'll keep doing it until I die.
They hate me. They say I should be caught and locked up. But they don't know. I can't be caught; can't be locked up. I escape. I will always escape. They always think otherwise, but I will never be anything less than free. They can try, but they will fail. They have continuously failed. They will forever.
I am the Thief King. Remember me.
A/N: Eh… I liked the beginning - that's as far as I got in the car. I may or may not continue this self-reflection of lovely Bakura's, so keep an eye out! Thank you for reading and please tell me what you think!