This story idea came from Rogue1979 - full credit for the starting point of this fic.
Now, to me, the spirit of the ring is Ryou, but for the sake of my own sanity, he shall be Bakura in this fic. My friend Andy chose the job, Bakura is a Legal advisor. I hereby proclaim Andy the jobperson!
Enough! On with the fic sweatdrop
Bakura stretched out in his luxurious leather chair, looking around his cavernous office. Ah, the perks of being top of a major Legal Advice company. Barely any work to be done, and the cash pours in. He did hate having to wear these terrible business suits, and the irksome meetings with his affiliates. However, he knew it was worth it when he spent all of his time outside work enjoying whatever he felt like. Sex, alcohol and smoking were just to name a few. His office, and one room downstairs, were the only places smoking was permitted - barely any of the employees indulged in such things. He leant back, and thought of last night. That male prostitute was particularly intriguing,
his long brown hair screamed disorder by the end of the night. And he was truly unlimited, prepared to do anything for the right price. Many of the others he'd hired just did the usual, but last night really had been fun. Smirking,
he lit a cigarette and pulled a stack of forms that required his signature towards him. Flicking through, he saw nothing of major issue. Scrawling across each dotted line, he exhaled his smoke and turned to look out the window.
Life really was good since he'd made his best... business transaction.
Closing his eyes, stubbing his cigarette out for safety, he thought back to that night where he was hiding out in the alleyway, being chased by a pretty pissed off loanshark. He knew, even if he managed to get home, he'd just come back to another phone call, another red alert bill he hadn't paid. He wasn't sure quite how he'd managed to get himself here, just that every day, the prospect of getting out of it grew bleaker. Finally managing to get home, he unplugged the phone and grabbed the vodka bottle out of the fridge. Taking a mouthful, he swallowed, ignoring the burning sensation in his throat. Putting it back, he went and sat down on the sofa. Placing his head in his hands, he felt truly lost in this world. He wanted the familiarity of Ancient Egypt, where he was the best tomb-robber in the world.
He looked up, almost knocking the sofa back as he jumped violently. There was a man in his living room, who certainly wasn't there before. Bakura's eyes were immediately drawn to the face. The deep crimson eyes, the shocking tri-coloured hair, the blonde lightning bolts that zapped through the topmost three points of his spiky hair. The red tips at the end of the black provided stark contrast. This... interesting hairstyle framed a well-sculpted face, deeply tanned, and bore the markings of Ancient Egypt, just like himself. His body was covered in a black hooded cloak, though the hood was not raised at this time. Bakura had the fleeting thought of him being a very...attractive Grim Reaper, then pushed it to the back of his mind, and came to the conclusion that the financial stress had simply caused him to hallucinate. It was only when he looked back up into those deep red eyes, and realised the figure had started to speak.
"Bakura, you are to come with me." It wasn't a request, but an order. The voice was deep and commanding, but at the same time Bakura couldn't help but notice the deep sensuality of it. Feeling slightly tipsy from the vodka, Bakura threw caution to the wind, nodding and standing up to the figure. The figure reached out a hand, and Bakura felt a strange heat inside himself. The heat suddenly turned painfully cold, and Bakura closed his eyes.
Opening them, he found he wasn't in his living room anymore. He was in what resembled the interior of a large volcano. The walls were roocky, and had an air of being roughly carved. There were pools of what appeared to be lava,
bubbling and hissing as steam poured from them. Looking around, he saw cages lined up against the wall, people in barely anything screaming and rattling the bars. They had the look of being permanently tormented. Continuing his exploring gaze, he found what appeared to be an ordinary office desk, with the high back of a chair facing him. Images of old mobster movies flashed through Bakura's head as the chair slowly turned round. The man sat in it had what looked like a permanent smirk across his face, fanged teeth just visible. Taking in the full view, he realised the man had folded down wings, giving them a crumpled, leathery look. There were bumps on the top of his head, with a curious horned shape about them. The man dressed simply enough - a grey business suit. It was just the rest of his appearance that was truly eccentric. "Ah, you must be Bakura." the man had a dark, threatening voice, yet it had a light sense of lust and violence about it. He looked down at what appeared to be a blank sheet of paper, yet he looked at it as though it had intensely interesting information on it. "Yes, I am. And you are?" The man smirked yet again, and replied "I'm the Devil. I'd like to make you an offer."
And thats the end of this chapter. Promise it'll get updated soon. Reviews would help so I'd know where I was going wrong.