I want to thank Jerex and Comicbookfan for reviewing. I really appreciated it, guys (Girls? Guy and Girl?). Anywhoo, I just want to point out, in response to Jerex's review, that this fic is not yaoi. Just wanted to get that out there, because I don't write yaoi. Sure, I read it, and I'm a total fan-girl, but I just don't write it. Sorry, to those who really, really wanted it, but it's just not happenin'.

Disclaimer: If I told you that I owned YuGiOh, would you make an attempt on my life...? (Lol, but I still don't own it...not yet at least...mwahaha...)

Chapter Two

Imprisoned

The only way that the pale man in the black robe could be easily described would be to say that he looked like a snake. His entire face was shaped like he had a human-sized snake skull. His eyes were sunken in deep into his head, and his nose was long and curved. His lips were very thin, almost invisible, as they were the same colour as his white skin. He had no ears, only holes on the sides of his bald head. His eyes had cat-like pupils.

Bakura had to admit, they guy had the whole intimidating look down to a freaking 'T'.

The man's feet touched the ground just as the cloaked guys came tearing out of an alleyway, blocking Bakura and Malik's other escape option. Bakura snarled under his breath. This definitely did not bode well for all three of them.

"Misters Bakura and Ishtar. It's very pleasant to finally meet...the both of you." His voice was as slippery and snake-like as his appearance. The way he spoke...it was both conniving and enticing at the same time. It was like he could manufacture a silken web of lies and make you believe every single word of it.

Bakura didn't like that.

The snake-man continued, "I am called You-Know-Who, the Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort..." His red snake eyes snapped to Bakura's face. They made steely eye contact, and Voldemort's face twisted into a grinning sneer, "But the both of you may refer to me as...simply Master."

The spirit of the Ring growled. It was a low, dangerous sound in his throat, "I will refer to you as nothing of the sort." He spat, eyes a more vibrant reddish hue than Voldemort's but a similar shade nonetheless. Bakura immediately cursed himself for being a spirit, simply for the resemblance to this freak.

Voldemort's sneer returned, but it was more malicious this time, "I would suggest that you do not behave as such in my presence, fool, unless you have a death wish."

"I am already dead, you mortal child, as you likely already knew." Bakura challenged, baring his teeth to show off pointed canines.

"If you call me a child once more, Mister Bakura, I shall cut out your tongue and then murder the body you possess. Do you wish for your foolishness to be the death of the mortal child you have acted as a parasite to?" Voldemort's voice had returned to its eerie, slick calm. It was a little disturbing, actually, how his face was completely unreadable; emotionless aside from the small upward curve of his lips. His cruel smile.

The words struck a chord, and Voldemort knew it. Bakura's face went totally blank, and Malik had to finger his Rod to actually catch a glimpse of whatever the spirit was plotting.

When the spirit did not speak, Malik took up the torch with vigor, "Bakura and I have no business with you, Lord Voldemort . Please, allow us to carry on with our business. We're just touring the country, nothing more."

"I know that, Mister Ishtar," Voldemort replied, a little smugness worming its way into his creepy facade, "But fortune smiles upon me that such powerful sorcerers stand in my midst. You walked into a war Mister Ishtar, and war is not fair, nor does it take kindly to those such as yourself."

"We know nothing of your war." Malik assured the snake-man, his voice hardening.

Voldemort let out a bark of laughter that sounded more like a cackle, "Lack of knowledge does not pardon you from the fact that you still walked into this war. You just happened to walk in on the...wrong side."

"So I take it that you're the aggressor, and most likely a murderer also?" Malik queried in a deadpan tone, cocking a blonde eyebrow. Keeping up conversation could allow them a chance to get away.

"No more than you are yourself, Mister Ishtar." Even when Malik's face twisted into a snarl of hatred and rage, Voldemort continued on, unfazed, "Oh yes. We know all about you, Mister Ishtar. You led a ragtag group called the Rare Hunters, who fashioned themselves much like my Death Eaters." The snake waved a hand to indicate the cloaked men, who all remained dutifully silent, "But, unlike me, you failed...Mister Ishtar. You failed to achieve the power you so wrongly desired. The power of a Pharaoh, was it not? You wanted command of the Millennium Items. Tell me, how many Items are there? A hundred? A thousand?"

"Two." Malik corrected. He was lying through his teeth, but he had to protect the other Bearers, "There used to be three, but the Puzzle was destroyed in an accident. The Bearer of the Puzzle no longer exists, and the Pharaoh has passed on."

Voldemort outright cackled this time, "Mister Istar, I commend you for you attempts, but do not insult me by assuming that I am a fool!" He sounded evilly amused by Malik's words, "I know of the Puzzle's existence, and I know that Yugi Mouto is quite alive."

Malik's stomach dropped to his toes. Yugi was screwed.

"Do not look so worried, Mister Ishtar. I assure you, I will not go about searching for this Yugi Mouto. I do not have any interest in wielding your magic. I am not so power-hungry to assume that I can control ancient magics that are destined to only be wielded once every five thousand years. You can rest easily." Voldemort explained, that creepy smile replaced on his face by a very dark smirk.

"Then what, pray tell, are your qualms with us?" Malik asked, "You obviously know we are Item Bearers, so why do you seek us?"

The snake chuckled, "I may not be hunting you and your friends down, Mister Ishtar, but I will not pass up an opportunity when it so willingly walks into my embrace."

Malik's lip curled viciously, "I'm not a very huggy person." He quipped, but there was no humor in his tone.

"No matter," Voldemort said, waving Malik off, "You two will spend the remainder of your summer in the Malfoy Residence, under surveillance of course. I will stop in to visit you occasionally, for it will be interesting to see such powerful magic users when they are broken."

Malik and Bakura felt their arms grabbed and bound with rope. They couldn't stop it this time. Their Shadow Magic could not reach them. Malik had tried. Whoever this Voldemort guy was, he was interrupting the frequency that Shadow Magic travelled on to get to the human realm, whether he knew it or not.

"I will not be your slave." Malik growled darkly. It was a promise, "Nor will I become your fucking war tool."

Voldemort's sneer was evident once more, and Malik immediately began cursing the snake's existence to all the gods he knew the names of, "We shall see." The snake said calmly, before waving for his men to take the two.

One of the cloaked men behind Malik pulled out a long wooden stick that the Egyptian caught out of the corner of his eye. When Malik turned around to block whatever was getting stabbed at him, he was hit in the face with a jet of red, accompanied by the word Crucio.

Pain erupted through his body, making him convulse in agony. Bakura cussed and started yelling at the men to stop. Voldemort started laughing; his cold, slippery laugh echoing through every part of Malik's mind.

His world turned upside down and went black. The pain was replaced with sweet unconsciousness, and Malik knew no more.


"Malik, wake up."

Malik's eyelashes fluttered as he felt consciousness return to him. The light above him was bright, and he closed his eyes and groaned.

Someone slapped his head, and Malik hissed in pain. He put a hand above his eyes and tried to open them. Everything was out of focus, and there was a thick layer of fuzz around the edges of his vision. He murmured something that even he didn't hear, and turned over onto his side.

It was a bad idea. A sharp, agonizing jolt of pain shot up his body, and he found himself curling in on himself.

"Oh no! Malik, you need to get onto your back again!" Bakura? No, this was definitely not Bakura. "Those Death Eater guys got us pretty good. You've got a broken rib or two, and your wrist is totally fractured. A nice blonde lady came in and put your wrist in a cast, but I don't have a clue who she is."

Malik immediately noticed, aside from the pain, that his wrist was indeed entombed in a thick binding. There were two pieces of wood running from his wrist to his fingertips on both the back and front of his hand.

"Bastards..." Malik spat, feeling the haziness and fuzz start to lift from his sight. Ryou's concerned face swam into focus.

The Tomb Keeper groaned again and blinked profusely just for good measure. "What did they do to you?" He asked, remembering that Ryou referred to their attackers as having gotten both of them.

Ryou shrugged slightly, but winced a bit, "I'm pretty bruised up, but Yami managed to heal up the broken ankle with some Shadow Magic before he...well, I think it's just a bad sprain now."

"Yami's here?" Malik asked, still very confused.

Ryou blushed at the mistake, "Sorry, I meant my yami. I forget that he's commonly called Bakura by everyone except me."

Malik turned his head to examine the dank room they were in. They were, quite literally, in a dungeon.

"Okay, so did they crack your skull too?" Malik asked, peering around and shaking his head to dispel the last of the fuzziness. He gingerly slid his body up the wall so that he could be in a semi-comfortable sitting position. He hated lying down. He touched his bruised ribs gently, feeling the ever-present throbbing that made him wince.

Ryou shook his head in response, looking a little embarrassed, "They considered you more of a threat because you read minds. That's why they..." Ryou trailed off, his eyes going duller. Malik noticed the change, and was about to comment, when Ryou continued, "They blindfolded me, and took us into some house, and then we were brought down here. They put me to sleep when I got here, but they didn't knock me out like they did to you."

"What did they do, Ryou?" Malik asked warily, and suddenly he noticed the absence of a thick golden rod in his pocket. He felt around himself for a second, before stopping and staring blindly at the wall. "They took our Items." He murmured.

"They did." Ryou's eyes became very distant, and he appeared to be on the verge of tears, "I've been trying to contact Ya- Bakura, but I don't have a connection to the Ring unless I'm wearing it or it's really close to me." His hand slid to his chest, right over his heart, "I can feel a pull towards it, barely, but it's there."

"That's Bakura. He's trying to contact you physically, probably. In fact, it might be more of an instinctive reaction to being separated from him that's pulling you towards the Ring. You start to need your yami to survive after a while..." Malik's face contorted into a snarl, "A real Yami, I mean."

"Malik..."

Malik pursed his lips and waved Ryou off, throwing his friend an apologetic glance, "No worries. I was being pathetic. I guess that this whole Voldemort fiasco is kind of getting to me."

"It's because he reminds you of Him, isn't it?" Ryou murmured, hitting the nail on the head. He began to fidget around with his hands, tracing the surface of a rock he'd picked up from the floor. He kept his eyes averted from Malik's, those violet pools that spoke only stories of a haunted past.

"Yeah, Voldemort reminds me of Him." Malik admitted gruffly. He was thankful that Ryou ended the conversation there, choosing not to press for more conversation on the matter. He needed to sort out his muddled thoughts anyways.

Ryou suddenly let out a tiny chuckle, and Malik glanced up at his pale friend in curiosity. Maybe Ryou was going a little insane. "What's the joke?"

"I just can't believe that we leave Japan on a road trip, go all the way to England, and still manage to find ourselves in trouble. It just sounds so...so like us." Ryou's eyes were dancing with little sparkles of mirth. The entire situation was much to melancholy for any sort of real hysterics.

"Yeah, that's us," Malik agreed with a hint of venom in his voice, "Constantly joining the shit on its way to the fan."

"How eloquently put." Ryou kidded, wrinkling his nose.

Malik slid his long, tanned fingers over the purple bruising that marked his broken ribs. His injured arm was left lying limp at his side, unusable. "I can't believe it started bruising so fast..." Malik mused, more annoyed that curious at this point. He pressed down on the bruising, and along with the pain noticed the easily discernable bump of swelling.

"The swelling and bruising's going to get worse." Ryou reminded him, his face darkened with worry and empathy.

Malik waved him off again, "I've had worse."

"I know, that's why I'm worried that you're not going to lie down and let it heal." Ryou replied with that look in his eye that most nurses got whenever they had an incompliant patient. The almost-albino rubbed his face, smearing a line of soot along the bridge of his nose.

Malik shrugged, an action he instantly regretted, due to his rib cage, "Eh," He croaked through the throbbing, "I'm already sitting up."

"I gathered that."

The Egyptian cocked a blonde eyebrow, "Someone's getting cheekier. Bakura's beginning to rub off on you." Ryou having been exposed to Bakura had lit a change in the previously reclusive boy. It was nice to see that Bakura was affecting Ryou in a positive sense, instead of breeding another maniac.

Ryou shrugged, and Malik was jealous to note that he did not appear to feel pain from the simple action.

The hikari of the Spirit of the Millennium Ring stood up slowly, using a wall to prop himself against. He tested his ankle, gradually putting more and more weight on it. When he tried to stand without the wall for help, however, his ankle gave way on him and he fell to the ground, scraping his knees and cutting his hands. He bit his lip, tears springing at the corners of his eyes. Pain lanced through his leg, and his vision went a little hazy for a fraction of a second.

"Ryou!"

The hikari's eyes went wide, and his head snapped up. Malik watched him in confusion, "What is it?"

Ryou didn't answer the Egyptian.

-Yami...? Is that you?-

"-re...ou...kay?"

-What...?- Ryou blinked, but managed to figure out what his darkness had said. With a relieved sigh and a deep smile, he nodded. When he realized that Bakura could not see him nod, he blushed and spoke telepathically, -I'm fine.-

"Go...od. Whe...ar...ou?"

-Dungeons. Do you know where we are?-

"If...I...id...ouldn't...sked."

Ah. If he did know, he wouldn't have asked. Well, that was Bakura for you.

When Ryou noticed Malik's confused staring, he amended his mistake by relying what he'd heard to the Egyptian. Malik's eyes lit up brightly at the prospect. "You can still contact him?" Malik asked.

Ryou nodded, unsmiling.

"...t...urts...Ry...ou. He...ll...id...ou...do...?"

Ryou knew that Bakura was feeling the pain that Ryou had accidentally inflicted upon himself. He blushed a deeper scarlet of embarrassment, horrified that he'd managed to contact his yami through his own clumsiness.

"n't...ep...ink...ay...afe...ndlord."

-I'll try, yami.-

The link was snuffed out, and Ryou's eyes dulled slightly. It'd been so relieving to hear from his yami again. It made it hurt all that much worse at the notion that the link was so very temporary and brittle at the time. He needed to find a way to the Ring. He needed his darkness, the yin needed its yang.

Malik placed a comforting hand on Ryou's shaking shoulders, "We'll figure a way out of this whole mess, okay?" He assured his friend, eyes shining with sympathy.

"Okay." Ryou agreed, not really putting any feeling behind the response. He examined the thin red lines that now covered his shins and palms. They were ugly little scrapes, and made Ryou feel even stupider for the manner in which they were acquired. He didn't need to be hurting himself if they were planning a break away...without any help from their criminal expert.

"This is going to be tediously troublesome, isn't it?" Malik asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

Ryou nodded solemnly, not bothering to acknowledge the little quip by his friend, "Yes. It will."

"We're going to figure out where our Items are, first of all?"

"Yes," Ryou replied, his eyes cool as flint, "We are going to find our Items and save my yami before we do anything else."

"Sounds like a plan."

End of Chapter

Yeah...nothing particularly exciting happened there. I know. I'm trying to bide my time, okay? Tell me if you enjoyed it, I love feedback. I would like to be informed if anyone is out of character, PLEASE! I hate OOCness!

OoCA-chan out!