Hi.
My, my. So few of you. What's the matter? Doesn't anyone like dark horror nowadays? Ah well. My name is Malik Ishtar. Gender—Male. A few of my old friends would have said "both," but, you know, screw them.
They're long dead anyway.
Descent—Egyptian, of course. 'Ishtar' should have clued you in. Age—I dunno. Lost track. I was seventeen, until … but I mustn't get ahead of myself. I'm here to tell you a story. Not that I like storytelling, or anything, but I feel I have some knowledge to pass on to my fellow man. If it's October 31st, and you go into a tavern and meet a Gothic-looking young adult who wants to talk with you; do yourself a favor:
Leave.
The flashing lights and loud music of the downtown, seedy club I found myself in that particular night filled my senses to capacity. I waded through throngs of scantily-clad costumed people in a stumbling manner that lacked my usual grace, ready to call it a night before it got much later or I got drunk (I was buzzing pretty hard, already).
As I was trying to find the front door, I found the music and the dancing and the lights to be rather distracting. Still, I managed to avoid any intense bodily contact with anyone on the dance floor, and soon gathered enough wits about me to stand on my toes and peer over the crowds to find what I was looking for.
Unfortunately, trying to stand on your toes when you're balance-impaired is more often than not an unsuccessful venture. I toppled over in a manner of seconds.
"Oomph!" A few seconds slow, I realized that my fall had been cushioned somewhat: and then I realized that there was a body under me. I'd fallen on someone. "Oh … excuse me."
The stranger pushed off from me viciously, and stepped away. "Who are you?" The voice was cold, and sent shivers up my spine.
"Um … Malik. My name is Malik Ishtar," I stated, offering my hand. The white-haired boy I had bumped into looked at it warily, and then proceeded to ignore it. After I moment, I lowered my arm uncomfortably. Okay, I guess I wouldn't be shaking his hand. Jerk.
His gaze pierced my face, but he seemed to acknowledge my name with a curt nod of his head. "Bakura," he grunted back, and I waited for more. None came.
"…That's it?"
"Bakura," he repeated, nodding his head sharply. I shrugged my shoulders. He seemed anti-social and unwilling to be cooperative in the conversation, though he was the one who asked for an introduction in the first place. It was just as well … I was in a hurry, and I couldn't quite see his face in the light of the club (or lack thereof) so I wanted to get out of there while I still had all my limbs. Not that I was over-exaggerating, mind you.
"Well, sorry I fell onto you and all that. Have a nice night," I said, smiling at him merrily despite how rude I thought he was, and then excused myself from his presence.
I didn't make it very far before he grabbed my arm. Turning back slightly and making eye contact with him, I stuttered out an intelligent, "Huh?"
He pulled me back, barking out a "Wait." I really didn't like taking orders … but I wouldn't say anything this time around. It was his first offense after all, so I decided to be lenient.
"Yes? Can I help you out or something?" My voice had somehow become much icier, despite the fact that I was still trying to be polite. He didn't seem to notice.
His face didn't change, but I saw a suspicious little glint in his red eyes that I really didn't like. "Come and have a drink with me. You're the first person I've talked to all night," he said, and dragged me over to a nearby table. I didn't get the chance to protest or resist him before he pushed me down into a booth against the farthest wall of the club; the furthest from the door and in the darkest corner. He sat opposite me.
I admit that I was in a bit of a daze … this had happened all so suddenly and my drunken brain was having a difficult time keeping up with the pace of events. That lamp that hung over our table had a faulty wire, causing the yellow bulb to flicker on and off, like a small child was playing with the light switch or something. I suppose I should have been grateful for the illumination; without which I couldn't have possibly noticed the fact that my favorite drink was already in front of me …
I was also able to fully see my new "friend." He was obviously attracted to the Goth look; what with his pitch-black tank top and form-fitting trousers, fishnet quarter-sleeves and large black combat boots. His face was sallow and pale, and his sunken eyes, outlined heavily in black kohl, still watched me intensely. A single pagan earring hung from his left ear, and many silver rings glinted from around his bony fingers.
I shuddered. I could feel his piercing gaze on me even when I wasn't looking at him directly. "Um … well, what exactly did you want to talk about—Bakura, was it?" I took a large swig from the gin and tonic my "host" had kindly provided, hoping it would either calm my nerves, or possibly get me drunk enough to not need nerves at all. There was also a little nagging feeling in the back of my head that told me I would need every single drop.
The man looked down for a moment, stirring idly at his glass of red … stuff. Probably wine, or something girly and fruity, I mused.
"I wanted to know more about you," he said at last, looking at me again. I noticed that his eyes were a keen burgundy, almost the exact shade of whatever it was he was drinking. I looked at him oddly, in part because of that strange iris color (contacts?) and in part because of his previous statement. Wanted to know more about me? Okay, that was not something to go around admitting to strangers, especially if it was only the second complete sentence you've said to them in your lifetime.
"What? Why?"
Bakura shrugged. "You intrigue me," he stated. He took a sip of his drink; I looked at him like he was crazy.
I intrigue him? I was starting to lose patience with his blunt answers. Now I could see through him; through the whole act—he wanted nothing more than to get me in bed.
The thought was maddening, and, to tell the truth, left a sour taste on my tongue. This had happened before, back when I was younger and easily fooled by such an act. That time … I paid the price for my naivety. He was a smooth-talker, and had turned out to be a fast-dresser, too.
I shook my head back into reality, and stared at the white-haired man for a long while. He wants to know more about me, eh? I decided that it was a relatively harmless subject if I approached it cautiously, so I started to tell him about my life.
"Okay then, fair enough. My name is Malik, as you already know … I'm going to be turning eighteen in December, a day before Christmas—but it doesn't matter, since my family doesn't celebrate Christian holidays. We're not Muslim either though—we're not really anything I guess. My ancestors were pagans, but that's a little too ancient for my tastes," I started, sipping gin & tonic in-between sentences. "I have a sister named Isis, by the way, and a step-brother Rishid ... We're all from Cairo originally but we moved to Japan 'cause my sister is running an Ancient Egyptian exhibit at the museum in Domino City."
Hmm, maybe I was being a bit too specific … what if this guy was a stalker? I'm so careless! I should throw him off, I thought, by being a bit more … pointless.
"Let's see, what else can I say? I have a motorcycle, but I don't have a Japanese license, not that I let that stop me ... I absolutely love rabbits, but I've never had the opportunity to own one. I'm a vegetarian but I hold my alcohol well—wait, wrong conjunction. I'm a vegetarian and I hold my alcohol well ... and that's it I guess."
At the end of my speech, the white-haired man's mouth was slightly open, and he was staring at me with a disbelieving look in his eye. Inwardly, I snickered. Distraction successful! Perhaps now I could make my escape.
Unfortunately, before I could excuse myself once again, he broke out into a grin. "You're very amusing. It's a change from all the usual worthless slugs that run around here. It's a quirk I can appreciate," he said. Now it was my turn to stare at him with my mouth open. This wasn't the reaction I was going for at all!
Suddenly he leaned over the table, closer to me. "Humor aside now, I want to know more … important things about you. Where are your parents? Do you live on your own, or with your siblings? Do you have very many close friends? Where do you go in your spare time? Are you happy with your present life? Can you paint, or dance? Are those contacts, or are your eyes really that color? Can you—"
I was overwhelmed, both with his numerous questions and their stalker-like nature. "Whoa whoa whoa! Slow down, Bakura. I can barely understand you! If you want a question answered, give me time to do so before asking another! Right then. No mother or father; they both died when I was younger. Where I live and where I go is none of your business; yes I have friends; yes I am content with life. I can't draw worth crap, but I guess I can dance okay. And yes, my eyes are truly lavender. I was born with them," I answered.
Bakura was like a sponge, absorbing all my answers. It was another of his attributes that thoroughly creeped me out.
"Favorite color?"
"Gold."
"Favorite flower?"
"The lotus blossom, from my home country."
"Favorite genre of music?"
I had to think about that one. "I like Electronica, I suppose, but nothing can beat the soothing sounds of the lute and drum from Egypt," I answered, sighing as an imaginary lute started strumming a tune in my head. The bliss, however, was interrupted by more interrogation.
"Favorite food?"
"I'm a vegetarian. What the hell do you think, Einstein?"
Bakura was confused. On his wraith-like face, the expression was slightly terrifying. "Einstein? What is that? Is that some sort of insult?"
I raised my hands in the universal sign of surrender, though I was slightly irked at his ignorance. "No, no—never mind. It's not important, Bakura."
Bakura eyed me suspiciously, but continued unhindered. "Favorite animal?"
"Oh, rabbits definitely!"
Bakura's eyebrows rose at my enthusiasm. I shrugged.
"I told you I've always wanted a rabbit," I said. Bakura rolled his eyes.
"Buy one."
"Don't have the money."
"Then steal one."
"What? Don't you have any morals?"
"No, not really."
I could definitely believe that. I smiled regardless, however, because finally we were having something of a normal conversation, and I could feel the familiarity slowly seeping between us and chasing out the creepy. We were just two guys, having a drink. It was normal.
Of course he'd have to go and ruin it. After a sip of his drink, he said, "I'd steal one for you, if you wanted."
I froze. What did he just say? He'd steal something for me?
God. I'm sitting with a criminal, aren't I? And I'm still here …? Am I insane?
"N-no, that's okay. I'm just as happy rabbit-free. Besides, I think my sister is allergic, anyway," I muttered. He tossed his head nonchalantly.
"I'd do it for you," he said again, and I decided I'd indulged his creepy selfishness and my need for niceties long enough. I took another swig of the gin & tonic and got up. I didn't fail to notice when Bakura seized up in his seat at my sudden movement. He hadn't planned on spending the whole night with me, had he? No way in hell that was going to happen.
"Bakura, I'm going to take off now. Isis will be up waiting for me. Thanks for the chat—err, I mean the interrogation—and the drink," I said cheerily, but there was no smile on his face now. He was just watching me. But he'd been doing that all night, however, so it had less of an effect on me now. I was able to ignore it. "Have a good All-Hallows Eve, Baku-chan," I said with a wink, and then turned away. I just barely heard him take in a sharp breath.
"What … did you just call me?"
I did hear that. Turning back around quickly, I tried to placate him. "Baku-chan. Yeah, like a nickname, you know? I do it for everyone, so sorry if it offended you, okay? I'll see you around."
I headed for the door, smiling when I realized I was finally going home. That alcohol was really starting to make me feel sick so I couldn't wait to get to bed.
He didn't let me get that far. When a pale hand shot out and took hold of me once again, my stomach sunk low in my body, and the notion that I might not make it home first crossed my mind.
I heard him get up, and soon his body was right up against mine. He took hold of me from the other side, and I noticed that his hands were really cold. He exhaled into my ear, the released airstream tickling the lobe and making my spine tingle with fear; a fear that was increased tenfold when he whispered these words:
"You aren't going anywhere anymore, Ishtar …"
I tried to dominate my fears, wanting to stand up for myself. The time for being polite had passed. "Excuse me? You can't tell me where I am or am not going! Now take your hands off me at once!" I snarled, and tried to wrench myself out of his grip. I swallowed upon finding this task impossible.
He took both of my arms in one hand, pinning them behind me. His other arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me backwards with it. "No. I want to ... talk some more," he said, voice suddenly very sultry and very dangerous. I was pushed back to the booth, stumbling awkwardly until the underside of my knees hit the cushioned seat and I fell into a sitting position.
I didn't like it one bit when he slid into the space next to me.
"What more could you possibly have to ask me?" I snapped, this time successfully tearing my arms away from him. He smirked, and I thought for the second time that evening that I wouldn't make it home tonight. Or ever.
"Hm ... let's see now ... oh yes, I know just the question! What is your sexual preference?" He asked darkly, with a steadily widening grin that really made me fear for my safety.
"Women! Women!" I gasped, making sure there was no possibility of misinterpretation.
My outburst didn't seem to faze him, nor make his smile fade. "Well, you know, in the Christian Bible it said that women were created from the rib bone of a man. Really then, you could argue that they were the same thing," he stated, finishing up his drink. My heart missed a beat.
"I thought I told you before, I'm not Christian," I snapped, but I really didn't think it would help any.
And it didn't. He just continued to smile, saying, "It doesn't matter to me whether you are or not. And now, another question: do you believe in the darker side of humanity? In the occult?" He lowered his chin, looking up at me through his white fringe. "...In vampires?" He whispered.
I didn't know whether he was being serious or stupid; whether I should be laughing or cowering. I blamed my sudden spike in nervousness on his dumb creepy face. "H-have you gone soft in the head? There are no such things as vampires," I stated.
He bared his teeth in a wicked grin. Funny how I never noticed his inch-long fangs until this moment …
Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh hell no. This wasn't happening! This couldn't be happening! I must have fallen asleep; this must be a dream! Did Bakura slip LSD in my gin & tonic? Had the alcohol finally made me pass out? This couldn't be reality, because last time I checked the real world didn't function like the plot line of a manga novel, and certainly vampires weren't real and didn't go around hitting on people in obscure little bars …!
He curled his upper lip, making sure I could see well the twin blades shining eerily in his mouth. "Have I made you a believer?"
I drew back from his serpentine smile. "W-what do you w-want from me?" I asked coldly, but I think it lost its effect with all my stuttering.
"The truth? I want you," he whispered in my ear, taking hold of me once again, this time by the waist. I gasped, and pulled away sharply.
"No! You can't have me!" I cried, thinking for the third time, the most believable of all times, that I would never see home again. This stranger, this monster, was going to kill me.
His expression dropped, his eyes narrowed, and he actually growled at me. "You don't have a choice. I'm stronger than you!" I dived for the other end of the booth, but he snatched my wrist, hard enough to bruise.
"O-ouch!"
And then he was suddenly in front of me, grabbing my upper arm with his other hand and forcing me to my feet. I let out a startled yelp; I hadn't even seen the bastard move! When he started dragging me to the back door of the establishment, I regained my senses and struggled ferociously, going so far as to rake my nails over his exposed pale arm in an attempt to hurt him.
I looked down, astonished when I saw no marks whatsoever. Shit! Losing confidence in my own ability to save myself, I turned to the other bar-goers.
"Help, somebody! Let go of me! Let go! Help!"
No one lifted a finger to help me. Those who could even hear me simply watched as he finally succeeded in getting me out the door. We ended up in an alleyway behind the bar, between two rusty old dumpsters. He slammed me up against the wall.
"Now, don't resist me," he cooed, pinning my arms between the wall and my back, and I watched in panic and confusion as his other hand swept my hair away from my neck. "It won't hurt that much if you don't move …"
Do you believe in vampires …? The truth? I want you … You aren't going anywhere anymore, Ishtar …
Oh my god.
My mind finally registered what he was about to do. "NO!" I screamed, struggling wildly in a final attempt to get away. I can't die! I don't want to die! Hell, I'M TOO PRETTY TO DIE!
Annoyed, he slammed his body down upon mine, crushing me against the wall and preventing movement. "Stop struggling!" He bent down and placed his mouth on my neck.
My eyes closed tightly. I didn't want to see it ... I wish I'd never gone out tonight. In what I thought were my last moments on earth, I thought about my sister and what she would do when she found out I never came home.
Bakura's tongue flicked across my delicate throat skin, bringing me back to the terrible present. "Mmmm," he hummed, and I felt his voice box tremble. "What a beautiful neck. I almost hate to spoil it …"
My voice only came out as a desperate whisper. "Then don't …"
I felt him laugh against my neck. "Wouldn't dream of it."
And then he bites.
Oops. Look at the time. I'll have to stop for now. It's almost dawn! It was lovely talking to you all, and hopefully more will join us next time.
Hopefully I'm entertaining you, but this is torture for me! This is messed up as it is, but you just wait!
It gets worse.
Just one more thing before I go 'out' for dinner. Men, remember what I said about taverns, October 31st, and Gothic people ...
Do yourself a favor.