Chapter 1

An endless monotone patter of falling rain is one of the few things you don't want to hear when awaking bleary eyed and late. The only positive thing that could possibly be gleaned off its watery surface is it's insistent pounding upon the window glass was acting so thoughtfully as a morning alarm. It's only a shame it came half an hour too late.

Marik scrambled out of bed, his purple t-shirt stained with spaghetti and some unknown beverage which might have been the explanation for his horrendous headache. Pulling on the nearest pair of trousers, he rocked himself away from the creaky mattress with a panicked leap, waking his sleeping partner. The Brit groaned and opened frosted corpse blue eyes just a crack to see his other half squeezing into inappropriately tight leather pants.
'Urgh, where do you think you're going?'
'Now's not the time for questions Bakura!' Marik cried, wriggling himself under the quintessential queen-sized monstrosity to grab at a pair of black boots. Bakura let out another groan and rolled over to check the time flashing in synchronisation with the rain pulverising itself into the glazed glass.

It had been a year since Bakura and Marik had moved to London in a desperate attempt to get away from it all. Bakura had found himself a… satisfactory job as the editor for a local magazine; whereas Marik had just been Marik.

'Bloody hell, its 6 in the bloody morning!' Bakura grumped as he sat up warily, snatching a half full bottle of red wine and gazing down the neck to check for any unwanted surprises. Just before he could take a swig, Marik yanked the bottle from his grip. 'Theres no time for that Bakura!' Marik exclaimed before gulping down a few mouthfuls himself and tossing the still unfinished container crashing into the wall. 'The London City Tournament starts in fifty minutes! We must fly, fetch me my chariot!' Marik proclaimed, pouting his chin and folding his arms in what was supposed to be a kingly fashion.'I wish you'd stop doing that' Bakura moaned, gazing forlornly at the dibbling red fluid race down the wall. Marik peaked down at his snow-haired companion to see he hadn't moved an inch.
'Bakura.'
'Marik.'
'We need to go.'
A few moments of silence.
'Now Bakura. We need to go now.'
'I'm aware.'

A full minute dragged it's weary limbs by.

'BBBAAAAKKKKUUUURRRAAAA' Marik shouted at the top of his lungs, bowling his white haired compadre over onto the other side of the bed. 'Fine, fine then' Bakura muttered standing up with an angry aura and stomping to the wardrobe, slipping on a blue and white striped t-shirt as he did so. 'Hurry Bakura hurry! We have to be at the doors in' he checked his Mickey Mouse watch Bakura had once won him in a carnival game. 'Forty-seven minutes! That's a whole three minutes of wasted time!'
'Very well observed Marik' Bakura said cooly as he slipped on his black trench coat. 'Shall we be off then?'
'Yes we shall! We will arrive at this tournament and utterly destroy any trace of competition and when they lie broken at our feet we will claim our reward and rule the world! Gwah ha ha ha ha!'
'Yes Marik very riveting' Bakura commented dryly as he fished his keys out the coat and began striding to the door. 'They shall count themselves lucky I'm no longer at my prime' Marik continued as they shut the door behind them and headed at a brisk pace towards Bakura's black sedan. 'I will defeat them before they even can make the first move' Marik smirked as they approached the automobile. 'Terrifying' muttered Bakura as he unlocked the doors.

'Oh oh oh, can I drive?'
'Marik you don't know how to drive.'
'I can ride a motorbike. Can you ride a motorbike? I think otherwise!'
'Marik you never even got a license for that bike, you crashed it numerous times and bought me that stupid floral helmet that one christmas.'
'It's not stupid! I bought it because I thought it looked pretty.'
'Yes well to cut a long story short you're not driving.'
'Ishizu would let me drive.'
'I'm not bloody Aishizu am I?' Marik looked disheartened from that, like a puppy denied its treat.
'Jeeze Bakura theres no need to be so mean' Marik warbled. Bakura rolled his eyes as he stuck the keys in the ignition and let out a deep sigh. 'Look I'm sorry, but what did you expect at ten past six in the morning?'
'TEN PAST SIX?!' Marik practically screamed. Bakura had to check his ears in fear that the drums had burst. 'Away Bakura away! We must travel to the tournament… and WIN!'
'Oh bloody hell' Bakura grumbled as the car began to splutter away through the rainy tragedy around them.

The duo arrived at the gates of the Duel Monster's London Championships and Marik was buzzing. His violet eyes were shinning like wet pebbles as he slipped on his duel disk and marched with childish glee into the tournament grounds. Bakura rolled his own icy blue eyes, tossed the great albino mane sweeping down past his shoulders and slid his own duel disk on.
It has been a long while since either of the pair had dulled anyone, not since the Pharaoh had gone to the realm of spirits in Egypt after Bakura's defeat. For Bakura it had crushed him. His whole life had been devoted to find the Millennium Items and resurrecting Zorc. Now all he had was a bloody editing job and a small apartment where no one could find him.

And Marik.

Marik had been his only comfort since that day. Marik had nursed him back to health without the knowledge of his watchful sister Aishizu or that meddlesome brat Yugi and his friends. It was Marik's idea to leave Egypt and it was Marik's decisions to live with him in London. The tournament was also Marik's master plan, all in the hope that Bakura would let his defeat go.

Fortunately for Marik, it wasn't long before the duel's began.

'Hey you!' Bakura turned to see a short, fat kid come waddling towards him like an inflated penguin. He had a black t-shirt several sizes too big, shoes he must have stolen from his father and a duel disk covered in graffiti stickers that looked like they came out of a pharmacy sticker book. 'What is it you want?' Bakura snapped, glaring at him with malevolent eyes. But the kid held his ground and pouted his several gelatinous chins. 'I'm going to kick your arse posh boy!' The kid obnoxiously sneered, puffing out his chest as several cronies whistled and clapped.
'So, you're trying to prove yourself are you?' Bakura replied calmly. His stern lips began to twitch into an evil, foxes grin. 'You fool! You have chosen your last opponent!'

Marik, a large bucket of sweet popcorn in hand, sat down to watch the performance get under way. It had been a while since Marik had seen this side of Bakura, when his demonic friend and partner was truly alive. The malefic glean in his eyes and the wolfish cry of a dark laughter, corpse-white hair flowing in dramatic breeze as monsters from the abyss are spewed forth by his endless passion for the death of mortals. The cries of agonised opponents as they lost everything in this shadowy battle.

'Now Diabound, send this putrid mortal straight to the shadow realm!' Bakura cried in victory, his smile ever broadening as the little fat kid was lost in a sea of black laser. When the dust cleared, the boy was weeping, his body huddled in a foetal position in a desperate attempt at comfort. A warm liquid soaked through his pants as he became self aware of the lack of his demise.
Bakura stood over him, omnipotent eyes staring down like a dog eyes a steak. 'You were lucky this wasn't a Shadow Game, boy. Otherwise you would be spending eternity in darkness with thousands of unseen evil spirits of the damned.' Bakura paused a moment, swishing his hair and deactivating his duel disk in such dramatic flare he looked like he was born for it. 'You're never going to bother anyone again, are you mortal?'
'No sir I promise sir please don't kill me don't kill me plleeaaassee!' The boy wept and sniffled, a pitiful line of snot rolling down his cheek and mixing with the tears. Bakura smirked triumphantly. 'Good, now run along. Before I change my mind.' The kid scampered away as fast as his elephant legs could carry him, leaving nothing but a duel disk, some crumpled cards and a mysterious wet patch on the floor.

'Soooo, how was it? Good right?' Marik questioned, sidling up to Bakura with a cats curiosity.
'Oh Marik, how good it feels to be crushing the spirits of mortals again' Bakura exclaimed with obvious glee. 'I only wish there was a duel I can sink my teeth into, a challenge maybe to test my immortal soul and finally emerge as- you're not listening are you?' Marik looked up guiltily from a n empty bucket of popcorn as he brushed the crumbs off his mouth. 'How dare you judge my attendance skills!' Marik thundered in a falsetto angry tone. 'I am the Lord of Listening, King of Compensation, Dictator of Direction and-'

'Marik, is that who I think it is?'

Bakura's sudden change of tone snapped Marik out of his speech and turned to see where Bakura was looking. A thin, tall skeleton with matted black hair withered with filth made it look like a giant rat had settled on top of his skull. His eyes were an empty green, hollow and shaded. But it was unmistakable, the red attire, the black makeup and even the little dice earring.

'Duke?!'

T'sup, its moi here. I'm brand new to this shindig so if anyone fancies giving a review that'd be grand.