Bakura stepped into the dark alley as the police car sped past. He smirked and peered into his bag at the stolen items: a diamond ring, a pearl necklace and a small ruby. He pulled off the dark mask he had been wearing and strode farther down the shadowy alley.
A trash can fell over in front of him but being the Thief King that he was Bakura easily leapt over the fallen can and landed silently. He looked around for the cause of the disturbance. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of silvery white race around a corner. He followed the running figure. It seemed to him that it was female, with silvery hair with bright blood red streaks that reached the small of her back. She was small in stature; perhaps 5 feet tall, but she was a fast runner and had the grace and agility of a cat. She leapt up on top of a dumpster, swung up on a streetlamp and perched just above the sputtering bulb. The light beneath her shadowed her angular face heavily, making it impossible to see any details. Bakura growled low in his throat, catching a glimpse of sparkling green eyes, reflective as mirrors, and the gleam of little fang-like incisors. He rested a hand on the dumpster and sprang lithely up after her, calling out, "If you come down I promise not to hurt you I just want to speak with you." His voice was hushed (he didn't want to draw undue attention to himself) but he knew it would rebound and echo into her ears.
Of course, he was lying about not hurting her. He wanted to feel her blood beneath his fingers, taste her tears, and hear her screams—didn't she know this was his turf? No one but him was allowed to raid the shops and residences of the wealthy Reiko District, and if this girl wasn't a thief he would eat his Millennium Ring. Whole. In front of the Pharaoh.
The girl cocked her head to one side and giggled. The sound was innocent, childlike—and completely mad. A chill ran down Bakura's spine and he growled, baring his teeth impressively.
The girl giggled again and leaned into the light, throwing her red-painted lips into sharp relief. She grinned evilly and licked her lips, flicking her tongue over one of her little fangs. Bakura's face flushed, recognizing both the innuendo and the challenge. So she fancied herself his equal, hm? Well, she might jump like a cat. But in five thousand years, there had only been one King of Thieves, and she would not best him!
He jumped for the streetlight and began to climb his way up the pole, hand over hand. He felt the pole shake as the girl leapt lightly from the lamp. Reaching the top, Bakura looked around and spied her standing on the roof of a store across the street.
"How the bloody hell did she get over there?" he muttered to himself. If she'd somehow gotten ahold of a Shadow artifact, he was going to kill her. And then take the artifact. And then bludgeon the Pharaoh over the head with it for leaving it where some silly mortal could find it.
Actually, that last one sounded risky. Maybe he'd make Marik do that instead.
Bakura slid down the pole and sprinted across the street. Noticing a ladder he swung himself up onto it, hands fair flying up the rungs. Landing silently on the rooftop, he scanned his surroundings. The girl was nowhere to be seen.
Guess I'll have to find different prey then.
Leaping from roof to roof he headed home. Although Ryou's paycheck was meager at best, Bakura made plenty of money from fencing his 'nightly earnings' and so he owned a comfortable penthouse in a 25 story hotel. Owned by KaibaCorp, naturally. Bakura would have to remember to rob dear Seto's preferred bank again soon. Just because he had to pay the man rent didn't mean he couldn't make a killing off of him.
Pity there was no good way to make that literal.
He chose this building for one specific reason. For reasons known only to the architect, the outer walls of the hotel were molded into a distinct grooved pattern. Very pretty from the street, and very useful grips for strong, nimble fingers such as his own. Bakura stood at last on the balcony of his penthouse and peeled off his sweaty shirt before settling into a lawn chair, enjoying the feel of the summer breeze against the bare skin of his toned chest. He closed his eyes and drifted into a fretful dream.
He saw himself holding a knife and his feet moved him towards a crouching figure. Her wrists and ankles were bound and a dirty rag was shoved into her mouth. He reached the hand that was not holding the knife out to her and gently caressed her sleeping face. Her luminescent green eyes snapped open first in fear and then happiness? He couldn't place that look though he knew it was an emotion he had never felt. His hand pulled out the gag and threw it away. He thought to himself "I want to hear her screams." But what his dream self did surprised the violent thief king. He leaned forward and kissed the silver haired girl on the top of her head. Tears were running down her cheeks and her soft sobs echoed throughout the dark, dank room. "Okay here we go now the torture" he thought but again his dream self surprised him. He cut the bonds on her wrists and ankles and helped her to her feet. She collapsed against him and he supported her as they staggered out of the room. The vision faded and was replaced by a later one, now they were outside in an alley. The girl stopped to breath and leaned against the dirty wall of the alley. She put a hand to her mouth as she coughed blood, her pupils dilated at different rates and she slumped to the ground .Bakura stared at the three deep gashes that were soaking her shirt and earlier the wall in a deep crimson red. He looked at the girls face and her eyes were glazed over. Dead.
"Ba-kooooooooooh-raaaaaaah!
"Go. Away."
"Ba-kooooooooooh-raaaaaaah! Wake uh-up!"
Oh, bugger me. Then him. And then set him on fire.
Bakura groaned and sat up. Blinking his eyes, he realized he was inches from another, lavender set. His maid/live-in, Marik, was sitting on his lap. Which, mind you, was a rather pleasant place to find him, but not while Bakura was still too busy blinking away sleep to appreciate it.
"What was your dream about 'Kura? Marik stood up and fluffed Bakura's hair. "Was it about me 'Kura?"
Bakura sighed and pushed Marik out of his way, standing up. "What are you wearing, Marik?"
"Like it?" Marik smoothed the flared black skirt and frilly apron.
"Did you shave your legs?" Bakura groaned and rested his head in his hands. It was a pity he had such a headache. They were very nice legs. "I should take a picture for posterity. I can't see your midriff."
"Bakura."
"Marik—"
"Who was your dream about?"
"Bugger off." Bakura stalked away. Bathroom. All he had to do was get to the bathroom, and he could spend the rest of the day in a daze of bubble-bath and Advil.
"Ba-koooooooooooooooh-raaaaaaaaa," Marik sang, following him.
"Marik!" Bakura roared, wincing as the volume exacerbated his headache. "No. No, the bloody dream was not about you. Some…girl. Now go away."
Marik pouted. "Not about me? Not about the gorgeousness that is Marik Ishtar? Oooh…does my 'Kura have a crush?" The Tomb Keeper smirked. "Wait-wait-wait girl? Girl? B-but Bakura?"
"No. I do not. Have a crush," Bakura growled. "Marmar."
Marik wrinkled his nose at Bakura. "What is it you always say? Call me that again and I'll gut you like a fish, you buggering bastard," he said in poor mimicry of Bakura's harsh English tones. "Fine. Whaaat-eeever. What did you get last night?"
Bakura sighed and reached into a pocket of his cargo pants, pulling his haul out for Marik's examination. "Diamond ring, pearl necklace, small ruby."
"Excellent! I'll take the ring and the rest goes to the rent."
"As does the ring," Bakura replied, glaring. Marik pouted.
"You never bring me anything! I have to get my own gifts! So I got a pet last night."
"Fine, Marik. Whatever." Bakura resumed his trudge to the bathroom. Then he stopped dead. "You did what?" he yelped.
As if in answer, a sleek white cat strolled out onto the patio through the open sliding door. Its fur glistened in the sun, almost silver in color, and it had ruby red splotches over its back—dyed, no doubt—but to Bakura the most intriguing thing were the three dark crimson streaks which appeared almost like deep gashes in the cat's back.
"Marik…" he growled.
"Eheh…" Marik grinned nervously. "Um, I'll just…be…changing, then. Lots to do! Work! Work is very important! Have fun, Bakura! And if I come home to find you've killed Crimson I will be very angry." He turned to head down the hallway, but Bakura grabbed him by the back of his dress.
Bum bum buuuuummmmm. Not a hobo… the dramatic music duh! If anyone can figure out my plot twist points 4 u and a COOKIE! (okay wow I was really hyper when I typed this. Note for readers: it was three AM and I was loopy ha-ha ya and I edited this with help from the constructive criticism of: forgottenforever! It was awesome and thank you again! And thanks to my editor (aka my BFF) AnbarElectrum! Well bye for now!
Love LISE!