"Bloody hell, Marik! Why must you be such a provocative, effeminate man?" Bakura stormed down the dark, quiet street, muttering under his breath and kicking stones with unnecessary force. His hands were jammed into the pockets of his spiky, oversized black jacket. Next time he saw Marik, he was going to strangle him. That tan, handsome Egyptian boy had gotten them both thrown out of the new club in Domino City, and Bakura was not pleased. Marik, being his clueless, narcissistic self, had decided to challenge Bakura to "a sexy-off: the ultimate duel of supreme sexiness!"
Bakura had declined, due to his prior experiences with these showdowns. Marik always pulled the "I'm tanner than you, so I am the winner!" card by the swimsuit round, and no matter what Bakura tried to argue with, he was always overruled. Marik had not realized, however, that Bakura had declined the challenge- he had automatically assumed Bakura would just follow along with whatever scheme he could dream up. He was the leader of the Evil Council, after all.
Bakura had forgotten all about it as he sat at the bar, enjoying the damage the alcohol was doing to his kidneys as he drank more beer than was necessary for the average person to get drunk on. As Bakura sipped his drink, his eyes scanned the crowd for his strange partner in crime- and he dropped the beer when he saw what was happening over on the dance floor.
Marik had tried to start the 'swimwear' portion of the sexy-off, assuming Bakura had gone to get his trunks. Marik was now standing in the middle of the dance floor, wearing a lavender speedo, while a rapidly multiplying group of women tried to rip his skimpy bathing suit off his body. Marik locked eyes with the frozen Bakura and yelled over the music "Fluffy, help! The prostitutes- they're trying to steal my Millennium Rod! Heeelllppp me kitty!"
The infuriating nicknames helped clear Bakura's head. He unwillingly made his way through the throngs of people surrounding the scantily clad Marik, shoving the gaping ladies aside so he could help his friend. He didn't get there quickly enough, however- Marik's fear of the fangirl hoard had brought Melvin out of hiding. Bakura stopped and took a step back, assessing the new scene as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to do now.
Melvin was biting the neck of the nearest girl, who, instead of being terrified by his sharp teeth, wild hair, and Millennium weapon, seemed to be enjoying the attack immensely. Damn fan girls. Bakura thought to himself, shaking his head. Melvin shook her off in disgust, then moved on to his next victim, laughing manically all the while. Well, bollocks. Thought Bakura, What the bloody hell am I supposed to do with Melvin? I can't even contain Marik, and he's a bloody pansy. As long as he doesn't see me, I can think of a plan to-
"Helloooo there FLORENCE. Long time no see!" Melvin's obnoxious voice grated against Bakura's already worn nerves, while shattering all hopes for a plan. Well, now I'm royally screwed.
"Hello, Melvin. It has been a long time-"Bakura replied, then adding "but not nearly long enough for my liking." under his breath. Melvin was annoying, yes, but he was also a dangerous psychopath given to mass murder. Better not to piss him off.
"So, you were out clubbing with my foolish hikari, were you? Well, sorry to say, you won't be getting him back for a while. BWA HA HA HA HA HA! I'm rather enjoying myself!" he cackled again as he yanked a panicked girl towards him, biting her as well. She screamed and ran away, obviously not one of the fans.
"Umm, Melvin, you do realize you aren't a vampire? And that also, that's illegal. Not that it matters to me who you kill or how, but we're kind of in the middle of a crowded club, and you're causing just a smidge of mass hysteria."
"Oh, Florence, don't get your British panties in a twist. I'm only having a bit of fun. It's not my fault that you weren't attending to your girlfriend." He grinned wickedly and pulled out the Millennium Rod, unsheathing it and randomly stabbing an innocent bystander, laughing insanely as he did so.
Bollocks. Bakura thought angrily, choosing to ignore the girlfriend remark, as they'd had this argument before.
The bite mark wouldn't be an issue, but the stabbing will be impossible to hide. He scanned the crowd quickly, observing the panic, also noting that many people had their cellphones out and were calling 911. "Shit." He growled, looking around with a glare. Melvin was chasing around a few terrified females.
He realized that Melvin would most likely be hanging around for a while, and Bakura certainly wasn't going to be bringing him along anywhere. As much as he tolerated Marik, he despised his evil alter ego, and decided to leave without him, letting the crazed Egyptian figure out his own way of escaping. Although Melvin was a bloody psychopath, he could be quite cunning, and Bakura knew that he would somehow figure out a method of escape.
Though that most likely meant that the majority of the club-goers would be dead. Like Marik, Melvin lacked the gift of subtlety. While Melvin was momentarily distracting with guzzling down the alcohol of the frightened patrons, Bakura moved quickly to the back of the club and escaped through the back door into a poorly lit alleyway.
He could hear Melvin's double-toned laughter over the music as the door slowly closed behind him. "Melvin, that damned bastard. If killing him didn't kill Marik as well, the man's head would be on a bloody spike."
Bakura stormed out of the alleyway, muttering curses under his breath. Although he'd never admit it, he was secretly afraid of Melvin. It was almost impossible to find a man more insane than Bakura, and the fact that there was such a man dwelling inside his relatively harmless friend unnerved him.
These thoughts only fanned the flames of Bakura's fury, and he stalked quickly out of the alleyway and down the street, not paying attention to where he was going, and, frankly, not giving a bloody shit anyway. He wandered into a more rundown section of Domino, lost in his own hateful thoughts, mumbling all the while.
"Bloody Melvin, the bloody psychopath, the buggaring bastard, ruining my alcoholic consumption with his bloody need to murder mortals…" Bakura barely had time to register the fact that he felt he was being watched when a hand grabbed his shoulder tightly.
Bakura whirled around, on the offensive and ready to kill whatever mortal who had dared to lay a hand on him. With some surprise, he was greeting by the dangerously sharp hair and the deranged smile of none other than Melvin. With an angry snarl, Bakura slapped his hand away, glaring daggers at the Egyptian man.
"What are you doing here Melvin? I thought you were enjoying a nice killing spree at that ridiculous club."
"Oh. I was indeed, Florence, until I'd noticed you'd slipped out! I thought I would follow after you and give you a niiiiccceeee friendly hug." The psychopath grinned maniacally, reaching into his back pocket and produced the Millennium Rod.
"Ah, so it's true. You do keep the rod up your ass." Bakura smirked, trying to hide his worry. Melvin had nearly killed him once before, and a repeat of that surely wasn't something he looked forward to. Melvin kept the same crazy grin on his face, lifting up the Rod, which glinted sharply in the streetlight, and stepped towards the Brit.
"Come give me a hug, Florence… BWA HA HA HA!" All Bakura could do was back away. If he solved this like he solved his other problems and murdered it, Marik would die too. As annoying as he could be. That wasn't an option. But maybe…
"Hey, Marik. Your makeup is smudged." Bakura said seriously, pretending to give a damn about the boy's makeup. Melvin stopped advancing and blinked.
"Huh?"
"And your clothes clash." Melvin lowered the rod, his hand shaking.
"Silence Florence! I know what you're trying to do, but it won't-"
"Marik… I hate to tell you this… but you're looking a bit pale… and your midriff is looking pretty round." Bakura interrupted, trying not to grin. Melvin's intimidating expression quickly faded, his hair flattening down to Marik's normal style. Marik's wide, childish eyes were again his, and his face was horrified.
"FLUFFY! AM I REALLY GETTING PALE?!" he practically shrieked, grabbing Bakura's shoulders and shaking him frantically.
"Calm down Marik! You look fine! I made all that up to help you gain control over that bloody alter ego of yours! Effeminate buggar…" Marik let go, beaming a bright white smile at him.
"I knew I could never be pale! Hey, wait a minute! Effeminate?! Doesn't think mean girly? I am not girly! I am quite manly!" Marik pulled out a compact mirror and quickly checked his eyeliner for any smudges and then put it back in his pocket, smiling. Bakura just stared at him.
"Let's go home Marik. I need some asprin. And maybe a spot of tea."