This story stemmed from my interest in psychology and human behaviour and recently I have been learning about jealousy, infidelity, rape and murder and how it causes and affects aggression and social response. Those will be important themes in this story, so be warned – this is not a light-hearted one. Be prepared for angst and romance meshed into a warped, psychotic, hopefully interesting mess. Should be fun ;) Enjoy!

1wildrose1 .. x

Rating: NC-17
Pairing (s): Ryou/(?) You're going to have to read to see who he ends up with ;P
Spoilers: None – this is AU
Disclaimer: I don't own Yugioh or any of the characters...sadface...
Summary: When we're competing, I understand him – his moves, his looks, his mind. But, when it's just us...What kind of game was he playing then? AU

Warnings: Shounen-ai (Male/male relationships), Yaoi (Male/male sexual relationships – though there will be forewarning of the chapters that contain the explicit stuff), Language, Torture, Gore and AU.

Yami Marik = Marik, Marik = Malik, Yami Bakura = Bakura, Bakura = Ryou.

I apologise in advance for the terrible team names – I suck at naming things and just took the names of the most famous Japanese cities and combined them with the ends of American baseball teams -.- By the way – hollered is not strictly a word, but roll with it.

Also note that Seto and Mokuba are not related in this – not that they get together, because that's just grim -.-

Chapter One

The Kyoto Killers were restless; today was the big day – they would finally face off with their long time rivals, the Yokohama Beasts. The last time they played them, they returned defeated, having to endure the shame thrust upon them by their home town. The Beasts were treated like kings and, them? Like dogs. But that was the system. The Game was everything, so don't play if you don't know how – that was the saying, anyway; a proverbial 'fuck you' to the Killers and their loss.

They stood there, a door separating them from the arena, cracking their knuckles and rolling their necks, trying to mask their anxiety with false bravado and mocking chuckles. The captain – a tall man, built with raw muscle and an over active ego – turned to his team with a grin. "Boys, you ready?" The other seven growled and hollered in unison, voicing their affirmation. "Great – gear up!" Reinforced helmets were crammed on over-the-top hairstyles, covering faces with metal masks in the shape of a twisted skull – the Killers' trademark.

The sound of a sport-savvy commentator flooded the room. "Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the initiation face-off of Tokyo's own Wargame tournament! As I'm sure you are aware, each team who wish to qualify must compete with last year's winners, the Yokohama Beasts!" The Killers could hear the roar of the crowd even from their changing room – it was small, but the closest to the arena that you could get, seeing as they would be the first to be released. Though every prospective team would eventually be in the same game-space together in the initiation match – rather than one-on-one as they would in the official matches – they were let out one by one, in order of the position they finished in the previous year if they had qualified and all at once at the end if they hadn't. The Beasts first, then the Killers, followed by the Osaka Reds, Iwaki Monsters, Fukui Royals, Nagoya Devils, Tottori Tigers, Matsue Titans and then the twelve other teams that hadn't qualified last year.

"The rules of the tournament initiation stand: if a member of an offensive team takes out a member of the defending team, that team qualifies for the tournament and must leave the arena. Once the last of the Beasts are down, the tournament will officially begin!" Nobody expected the Beasts to win, seeing as they were against nineteen other teams – with their eight against one-hundred-and-fifty-two, they were a little outnumbered, eh? In the end, only nine teams would remain, including the Beasts.

The red light above the door flashed, signifying that they were on in thirty seconds. The captain took a deep breath and smashed his fist into his palm. "Let's do this – the Beasts are going down!"

Ryou

The steady beep of the tracker I was required to wear calmed me, timing my movements and allowing my actions to become so robotic and precise that I could disconnect my sympathy for those I took out – it was just a game, the pain they're going to feel in the morning was through choice. Of course, it wouldn't do for my opponents to hear me coming, so I pressed my back against the nearest wall, checking the vicinity for any threats, and curled my fingers around the long tracker. I re-wrapped it into my thick black body armour, ensuring that the beep was muffled but still allowed it to be on show, as per tournament rules, and readjusted my team's signature weapon – a long black pole with flat panels at each end – against my shoulder.

I pushed off the wall and inched around the corner, careful to check if there was anyone coming. By now, only three teams had been let into the arena, making it fairly easy for me to stroll around without being caught, but why take the risk? We had taken our early start to situate ourselves in different corners of the labyrinthine space – it was made up of twisting corridors and false exits and floors and was much larger than the regular game space. Not only did you have to deal with the other team – in the case of this match, teams – trying to take you out, but the floor occasionally caved in and the walls changed at regular intervals to create a completely new range of paths.

I pressed my lips together as another short-lived siren sounded, signifying the release of another team. "And in go the Royals!" I nodded to myself – that was okay, the Royals were nothing to fear. Our main threat had entered the arena thirty seconds after we had.

I ran through everything I knew about the Killers in my head again, making sure I was fresh – they were instantly recognisable by their skull masks and large baton-like weapons; their fighting style was heavily reliant on strength and brutality, rather than strategy and skill as ours was; their captain – though I'd never seen his face – was particularly huge and not easily taken out. I smiled to myself at that thought – I had been the one to defeat him in the last tournament, thus ending the match and making us, the Yokohama Beasts, the winners. I'd taken a shot and swiped at his knees with my gladiator pole, making him lose balance and lift his defences for just a moment, allowing me to push him flat on his arse and press my weapon to his throat.

He'd had this weird thing for me after that – like, he was desperate to know who I was so he could study my fighting style or something. For revenge purposes, I suppose – he neither saw my face or learned my name, so he never got his wish. During the game, I looked the same as my team mates in my expressionless silver mask with fangs protruding from the bottom and my black body armour – so he would never know it was me. Shame.

I snapped into action when I heard footsteps a few metres from where I was, crouching down and gripping my weapon tight. A tall, muscular body rounded the corner slowly, dressed in bright red and wearing a ski mask – from the Osaka Reds. I had situated myself close to where he came from, so he looked right over my head – brilliant. He yelped and dropped the tournament-safe nunchaku his team carried as I swiped behind his knees and floored him. I snatched his tracker and twisted it, making him groan in defeat. "The first member of the Osaka Reds is down, courtesy of the Beasts!" Even the commentator didn't know our identities – to the world, we were just nameless players and we liked it like that.

The poor guy I'd taken out accepted my helping hand to get up and made his way out of the arena. It continued like that for two and a half more minutes, as each of the teams were released in thirty-second intervals before releasing the final twelve at once. The game was on. "And the first Beast is ooooouuuuut!" I frowned mildly, wondering who got ganged up on and taken down – not that it really mattered in this particular match, seeing as we already qualified. "The Iwaki Monsters are in!"

Well isn't that a surprise? The same eight teams always got through because they set off early and got an unfair head start – I never saw the point of this because the new teams never stood a chance of even getting close. Whatever.

Another assailant – a guy from a team I didn't recognise. Wow, he got here this quick? Impressive. Either way, he soon met the same fate as the other guy. Though my team were physically the smallest and weakest in the entire tournament – not that the others could tell with all our armour and padding – we were the most strategic, using our opponent's weight and strength against them. I didn't know why we were the only ones that thought of doing that – it was clearly effective – but everyone else were either too stubborn or too boneheaded to change their styles. "Aaaaannnd there goes the second Beast – the Tottori Tigers are through!"

I rolled my eyes and crept around corners, chuckling to myself when I heard some poor unfortunate fall down a false floor – probably a new player, because I've never known any of the members from the 'big eight' fall prey to an arena trap. They were more for theatrics than anything in real matches. One by one, it was announced that the Reds were through, then the Royals, the Titans and the Devils within a few seconds of each other. My heart pounded slightly faster when I realised what that meant – I was the last one left; one mouse in a cage full of cats. Yes...It was a good kind of fear I was feeling – this was the part I loved.

I snuck around the maze, taking down most of who I came across with ease, seeing as the majority were the amateur teams trying to make the big leagues. Fuck's sake – they were amusing at first, but screw this. I wanted a Killer.

I cracked my neck and began to prowl, no longer on defence. One, two, three more men taken down. This was getting dull...Shuffle. My conditioned instincts kicked in as I crouched low and tensed – this was it. I knew it was a Killer – and if I wasn't wrong...yes, the steps were heavy and quickened and slowed sporadically, as though the owner of those feet was trying to calm his mounting excitement. It was the captain – that gait was what led me to him the first time I took him down. I knew he probably remembered my technique, so I adjusted, laying flat on my belly so he wouldn't see me if he crouched and I had time to strike before his peripheral vision detected me.

As I assumed, the twisted skull appeared much lower than I knew to be his natural height. I smirked and thrust my weapon ahead, landing it in the crook at the back of his knee, and twisted, jumping up and using it as leverage to overbalance him. One of his arms flew out and grabbed the front of my body armour instinctively. My free arm wormed through the body lock and gripped his tracker, twisting it before he had a chance to retaliate. "Killer, out!" The man below me growled in frustration, making me smile wider and lift off of him.

I went to reach down and help him up, when suddenly I was slammed in the side with a baton. I cried out in shock and pain, whipping around brandishing my weapon. Oh, balls...The remaining seven Killers stood there, leering at me in their ominous skeleton masks. Usually, this shit wouldn't be allowed, but when only one member remained on the other team, you could do what the fuck you wanted.

One shot forward and slammed me into the wall behind, ripping my weapon from me while another dug through my armour, grabbing the tracker and twisting. I had no chance. "And the tournament has officially begun! The competing teams are as follows: the Killers, Reds, Royals, Monsters, Tigers, Devils, Titans and, of course, the Beasts!"

Well, what do you know? No new teams this year either.

XxXxXxXxXxX

We were standing in a side room, our whole team with the other seven captains. All ceremony and procedure – our captain would congratulate them and invite them to join the tournament even though they were already in, yadda, yadda. We watched some of the highlights from the match on a big screen, all filmed by the hidden cameras in the maze – one highlight was me decking the Killers' captain. When that scene flashed across the screen, he twitched, obviously annoyed, and I snorted in amusement. His head darted my way at the sound and stared for a few moments – no, you can't come over; ceremony, remember?

"Congratulations to you and your teams – we look forward to facing you all in the upcoming eight weeks." Our captain addressed the others amicably and I had to stifle a laugh – his voice sounded so different when he tried to be formal and dignified with his words, when usually he had a dirty mouth and didn't care what he said. His speech went on and on about nothing useful or noteworthy at all before he finally stopped and spread his hands wide. "Well, rest up – the first match is tomorrow. Royals vs Reds."

The Killer captain looked back towards me and lingered behind, making it clear he wanted to talk. Great. My team all noticed this and shrugged, holding back with me until we were the only ones in the room. "That's the second time." Well done – you can count! Wow, I was in a really bitchy mood today – might be to do with the fact that I got owned by seven men, all about twice my height and weight.

"Yeah?" I motioned for him get to the point.

"Well, I'd like to have a face – or at least a name – to put to the guy that owned me."

"You want me to reveal my identity to you?" Was he kidding?

He looked away for a second, seeming to be thinking, before dropping his baton and raising his hands to his face, pulling off his mask. "I'm Marik." My eyebrows rose beneath my own mask – he was actually quite...well...he was drop dead gorgeous! Holy shit...I hadn't expected that – never mind that he clearly wanted us to break our unspoken rule about keeping our identities secret. We were the only team that had such a rule, but we knew what would happen if we did let them know what we looked like.

"The fuck?" The door was open, revealing the other Killers who had been waiting outside. "Marik, why is your mask off?"

He shrugged, not taking his eyes off me. "I want to know."

And I really want to run my fingers through that blond hair – looks soft. "You know our rule."

Marik frowned and beckoned his team mates. "Take off your masks."

"What?" The Killers looked at their captain like he was crazy – revealing their faces to their rivals was risky. What if we found where they were staying and incapacitated them to remove them from the competition? Not that we would, but it had happened before, which was the biggest reason why we, as a team, didn't show our faces – we were well aware how weak we looked and couldn't risk anyone taking advantage. I can't remember who made that rule, because none of us actually gave a shit – it was more tradition now. Maybe one of our predecessors.

"Just do it." Marik barked at his team mates, glaring at them in the brief moment he looked away from me. They all grumbled and unhooked their masks before taking them off. I was quite surprised actually – though a few of them showed clear signs of their violent vocation in their faces, they were all pretty hot. I wrinkled my nose, knowing that I probably viewed them as better looking than they were because I couldn't have any of them – strict tournament rules: no fraternising with the enemy. That or I just really needed to get laid. "Bakura, Yami, Seto, Honda, Raphael, Rishid and Ryota." Marik gestured each man as he introduced them, ignoring their irritated expressions. His eyes never left me. "What about you?"

Our captain shook his head. "We agreed to nothing."

Marik scowled – someone isn't used to not getting his way. "We've revealed our faces – doesn't that show that we're willing to extend the hand of trust?"

"It shows that you are – your team, however, didn't want to."

The man that Marik introduced as Yami shrugged and cracked his knuckles in a bored manner. "We don't like being told what to do by this jackass – doesn't mean that we mean any hostility."

I snorted again and one of my own team mates leaned into me, whispering in my ear. "Fuck, he's hot." I nudged him in the side, silently agreeing. "Mine." Nodding I made a mental note that Yami was off limits – even though he was anyway; but then again, when did we ever listen to rules? Yugi could have him – I had my eye on bigger fish. I noticed that they all watched our exchange silently, as though the thought we were deciding something major. If only they knew.

Our captain stepped up next to me, hissing in my ear. "What do you think, Ry? It's you they want to see."

"That may be, but if I show my face, so do you. It's everyone's decision."

"Well, we don't give a shit. Your call."

I sighed and passed my gladiator pole to Jounouchi, our captain, pulling off my thick leather gloves. "We've got to deal, though, Killer – our identities stay between us. Call it trust between enemies."

"Call it what the fuck you want." I paused, tilting my head pointedly, making it clear that I wouldn't continue until he said it. "Fine, deal – right, men?"

The others looked at each other and shrugged – they clearly cared what we looked like. What was with this guy and his obsession? His team didn't give a shit, so why did he? I reached up and pulled back my fitted hood, waving my hair free and unclasping the mask at the back of my head. I pulled the metal about an inch away from my face and grimaced – the heat of my breath had my face sweaty and most likely flushed. Marik made an irritated sound, making me grin internally and finally pull the mask from my face.

His expression dropped. "What?" He furrowed his eyebrows staring at me incredulously. "Are you kidding? I wanted to see the guy that took me down." Charming.

I raised one eyebrow and blinked lazily. "Yeah – and you got what you wanted."

The silver-haired man beside him – Bakura, I think – barked out a laugh and slapped his back. "This must be so embarrassing for you – how funny."

I pouted and crossed my arms – childish, yes, but fuck this. I didn't reveal myself to be laughed at. "Guys, can you please take off your masks and let them all see who took them down."

Jou laughed at my expense and motioned for them to do as I said. Bakura's smirk faltered as he took in the sight. "We were beat by a bunch of fucking nancy boys?"

Malik pursed his lips and put his hands on his hips – such a masculine pose, I know. "Strategy over strength, honey. Us 'nancy boys' will beat you every time unless you get that."

Valon slapped his palm to his forehead and groaned. "My God, Malik – could you get any gayer?"

"Yeah, I could mount you right here and ride you like a broncho, but that's just not gonna happen." Malik rested his chin on my shoulder and talked low. "There is, however, someone who I would like to ride."

"Do you have to do this here?" Ever since we got drunk a few weeks ago and ended up having sex in his kitchen, Malik had been all over me to re-enact the incident. Of course, we were good friends and I didn't want to ruin that – I mean, if we could be friends with benefits, I'd say yes in a heartbeat, but I knew Malik was not a no-strings-attached kind of guy, no matter how many times he whined to me that he could be. The little blond giggled and stepped back, allowing me to rejoin the group conversation, addressing Marik. "Whatever. You wanted to see my face – you saw it. Was there anything else you wanted to do with this information, other than insult me with it?"

Marik's eyes met mine – they were so violet...so intense. I suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable as he walked right up to me, towering high above my head – so much so that I had to look up to meet his gaze. The silence stretched between us as his breath heated my forehead – I could practically hear the cogs turning in his head. "Your name?"

My...? Oh, right – we hadn't introduced ourselves. Jou cleared his throat and gestured each of us individually. "I'm Jounouchi and this is Malik, Valon, Alister, Yugi, Otogi, Mokuba and..." Jou smirked. "Ryou."

Marik nodded, never looking away from me. "Ryou...okay."

Suddenly, he turned and reattached his mask, striding from the room with his now-masked team mates in tow. I gaped after them, hardly believing that he had just left. Wait..."Did he even answer my question?" Malik shook his head, looking puzzled. "What the fuck just happened?"

Setting the scene...setting the scene...action to come! I made Ryou really sarcastic and snarky in this story...I like it ;)