(A/N: Written for an LJ community where you pair a character of choice (Kaiba Seto) with ten other characters. This is for Malik. I'm going to offer liner notes at the end of this story, since no amount of ficcing can explain everything in my head.)

Kaiba Seto is not, as they say, the type of person who asks for help.

Kaiba Seto, when requiring something to be done, either completes the task himself or demands that someone else get it done immediately.

That is not to say that he is always obeyed, but Kaiba Seto tends to make threats when his word is questioned or debated. It may have to do with the God mindset. It may not.

But those selected by God to do his bidding do not always see it as a blessèd task. Their complaints are, by virtue of their own personal safety, kept to themselves, their consideration instead being focused on the fact that having something even minorly important to do is a welcome change in these days of slowly-encroaching death. Nothing to do bred only thoughts of the end, and thoughts of the end were discomfitting.

Nevermind that God's minions sometimes choose to court Death and bring her along on their questing.

Kaiba Seto knows little of Death.


Malik kicked the small, dented skull at his feet, watching with little interest as it bounced twice before clattering out of sight behind the wreck of what may have once been a car. Darkness was creeping around them and the blonde shivered slighty in spite of it being quite warm. Each day that flickered out was one step closer to the end, he couldn't help but believe.

Laughter rippled behind him. "Frightened of the dark, brother?"

Malik turned on his heel and, still quite able to see his partner, grabbed him by the front of his shirt and flung him forward, snarling, "I already told you to stay in front of me." When the slightly taller man complied and continued walking, he went on, "And we aren't brothers."

"The best a figment of you can be is a brother, brother dear. I know your mind." Yami no Malik gave him a lurid, mocking grin before a shadowed mess of debris caught his attention and he moved towards it at a quick pace.

Malik felt a familiar rush of cold hatred, one he always felt when he was reminded that it was his fault this abomination existed and for a cause that hadn't even been fulfilled yet. Nonetheless, he followed. Partners. As much as he hated being around the other, it was quite required of him; there was bond between them that hadn't been expected, but was very much present. The darkened place they'd ventured into proved to be the barebones remains of a house, a large crater about four meters in diameter and two meters deep at the center claiming the majority of what used to be the floor. All that gave away that this place had been a living space was the bloodstained arm of a couch, its stuffing strewn haphardzly across the space. Wind whistled through the collapsed walls.

Turning the chunk of furniture over to examine the underside, another thought came to Malik's mind, "I wasn't the one who gave you a body."

Yami no Malik kicked a panel of wood across the floor and hissed disconsolantly. "Some body. Imperfect skin. It shifts every day, you know, choosing where it leaves exposed." Vulnerable. Diseases were common now, hard to avoid. Yami no Malik was unable to become sick, but that did not mean his body could not rot while he used it.

"I wish someone would pitch a bomb into you, then, when your stomach's open but not your back."

Yami no Malik's eyes glittered with malice as he rounded on Malik. "Why don't you?"

"I--"

Yami no Malik interrupted him, acid in his tone, "You would if it weren't going to upset God, wouldn't you?"

Malik's response was bitter, recalling the hours he'd spent in Kaiba Seto's presence. "He is not God. He never will be. He will never touch God."

Yami no Malik laughed again, moving towards the sole intact corner of the room and toeing something that did not look very pleasant. "God's hand holds all the cards."

Malik turned in the other direction, his response quiet, "God's left wields all the weapons."

"We aren't loyal, are we?"

"You've never been, and I choose not to be." Malik's words were coupled with a small sigh as he kicked through the dirt on the floor, hoping for a flash of silver. Ah. There.

Yami no Malik laughed again and wandered into what must have been an attached room but was now little more than another half wall, singing lowly and disturbingly to himself.

Malik bent and plucked the small, very shiny bullet from the ground, and pocketed it. Not what they were seeking, but something useful all the same. It should be perfect enough to serve, if nothing else. He looked around for a moment more before finally saying, "It's night. We need to go back." He supressed another shiver as Yami no Malik responded.

The voice came not from where his partner's form had gone, but from all around. Low, eerie chuckles echoed around before words slid thickly through the air like poison, "You lead. I'll follow."