A/N: You guys are just too nice to me. My beta's computer decided to die on her and delay this even more than my stuff's usually delayed. I'm sorry! Please don't kill me!
In other news, has anyone else noticed how terrible the writing/grammar is in the first few chapters? That's what I get for going beta-less. I should probably go and edit, but my life is being eaten by school. Sorry! Again.
Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! or its original characters.
In Malik's mind, the day had been absolutely nothing but walking. That and a whole lot of pitch-blackness. He was starting to get rather sick of it as he and his companions trudged down the seemingly-endless hallway that Bakura had dubbed, in a moment of exhausted brilliance, "The Evil Portal of Evilness." The longer he stumbled over broken stones and what he presumed to be loose tiles, the more Malik agreed with the name.
"Is it just me, or have we been walking for a lot longer than we should have?" Malik asked. He barely repressed a curse as he stubbed his toe—yet again—on something sticking up out of the floor. It's like being back in that bloody tomb, he thought, scowling and kicking a few rocks out of the way. Why is it that my life seems to be stuck in an infinitely repeating loop lately?
Bakura snorted. "Next time, we take the long way. Whose idea was this, again?"
"I think it might have been yours, actually."
"Ha! What do you take me for, Malik? A child in a horror movie? Everyone knows that you just don't go down the creepy dark tunnel, especially if there's a psychotic mass-murderer at the end."
Malik sighed internally. He really wasn't in the mood to get into an arguing match with Bakura. The conversations always ended up going in circles, anyway.
But... he was pretty bored.
"Been keeping up with modern television, have you?" Malik said, throwing a glance behind him to see if he could make out Bakura through the gloom. "Or are you talking from experience?"
Ishizu's voice drifted back to them from somewhere up ahead. "Don't make me come back there, boys," she warned. "I just might have to— wait, hold on a moment."
Ishizu stopped suddenly, and Malik and Bakura both managed to misjudge the space between her and themselves. Malik bit back a yelp of surprise as they simultaneously crashed into her. Malik stumbled to keep his footing and grabbed on to Bakura to keep himself from pitching sideways.
"What the hell was that for?" Bakura snapped when they were finally stable again,
shoving Malik off of him. "I almost fell over!"
"You didn't have to shove me, bastard," Malik replied.
"I'm sure you'll both live," Ishizu said.
"You're not the one who has to worry about living, are you?" said Bakura, and Malik could just hear the scowl in his voice. "I still don't see why I can't have my Ring out. It would make navigating this pathetic excuse for a tunnel so much easier. At the very least, we'd be able to see."
Ishizu sighed. "I already told you, Bakura. Marik's Rod can sense the Items as well, remember?"
"You'll basically be holding up a sign that says, 'Here we are, you can come kill us now!'" Malik said.
"I don't care. I'd love an excuse to meet Marik right now. I'm starting to get incredibly sick of this wild goose chase he's leading us on. Forget Shadow Magic; I'm ready to kill him with my bare hands."
"What did we stop for, Ishizu?" Malik said hurriedly, deciding that it would be a bad idea to encourage Bakura right now.
"I'm sensing a ... presence, coming from somewhere up ahead. I can't tell if it's dangerous or not."
"Is it Marik?" Malik asked, dreading the answer. He knew it was silly, since Marik was the one they were supposed to be looking for anyway, but that didn't mean he was successful in repressing a shudder every time the bastard was mentioned.
"No." Ishizu said. "It's someone unfamiliar." Her expression went dark. "I'd know if it was him."
"So... what do we do?" Malik asked.
"We keep going, of course," Bakura said, and Malik could just picture the eye-roll that went with the statement. "It's not like we have much of a choice."
"...Didn't you say the same thing about the Swirling Vortex of Doom?"
"How many times am I going to have to tell you to shut up, Malik?"
"Is this what you two were like during Battle City?" Ishizu asked, starting to walk again. "If so, I can see why you lost as horribly as you did."
"Not nice, sis," Malik said.
Ishizu just smiled sweetly at him. "What, I'm not allowed to tease my baby brother anymore?"
Malik was spared from answering when Bakura cleared his throat in annoyance. "Excuse me for interrupting," he said, "but I thought that we were supposed to be getting somewhere."
"Ah, yes. My apologies. Bakura, please take out your Millennium Ring," Ishizu said.
"I thought I wasn't allowed to."
"Don't be difficult, Bakura," Malik said. "You sound like a whiny little kid."
"Fine," Bakura huffed. "But if we get caught, it's not my fault."
The walls of the tunnel lit up suddenly as Bakura pulled the Ring out from under his shirt. He stepped around Ishizu and Malik so that the light would be in front. Malik scanned the walls slowly, taking in as much of his surroundings as he could. The light gleamed off of the damp, cracked stone, highlighting the chips and bumps, but there still wasn't nearly enough to make out anything more. Even with the Ring, it's still dark, Malik thought. I wonder why...
There was something nagging at the back of his mind, something he couldn't quite place...
I've been here before.
Malik stopped, confused. Where did that thought come from? He peered further into the gloom, trying to bring up the memory.
It all came back to him at once.
He let out an "Oh!"
Ishizu turned around. "Malik? What's-?"
Malik brushed past her, taking in the room around them. It's the hallway. The hallway from my dream.
That dream, the one he had had a million years ago, when he was back sleeping on Ryou's couch. I knew it, I knew that dream meant something! What if this hallway leads me to Holly?
Malik trailed his fingers along the corridor wall, feeling the worn stone. He walked faster down the hallway, an excitement he couldn't quite place growing inside him. "I know where we are!" he said, turning to Ishizu and Bakura, who both had looks of bewilderment on their faces. "We have to go this way. There's something at the end, a door..." He was running now, not pausing to check if Ishizu and Bakura were following him. He whipped around a corner-
-and suddenly it was there, looming in front of them: a large, ornate door, exactly the one from his dream, covered in what Malik recognized from years and years of unwanted study as ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs. Behind him, Bakura and Ishizu skidded to a stop, panting.
"Malik, what the hell is going on?" Bakura asked, doubled over. "Where-?" he stopped suddenly, whistling when he saw the door. "Damn. I haven't seen anything like this since I was back in ancient Egypt. It certainly brings back memories." His face was slightly bitter.
"Care to elaborate?" Malik asked.
"Not in the slightest."
"Do you really know where we are, Malik?" Ishizu asked.
Malik turned to her. "Back before Holly got captured, I had a dream about this exact same place. It had the carvings and everything." He paused. "Except... I'm not actually sure where it leads."
Bakura rolled his eyes. "Typical. So, I'm guessing we're going in?"
Malik could only nod, filled with a sudden apprehension. What of there was something waiting for them wherever this doorway led, some new trap set up by Marik...?
No, that was silly. They'd faced zombies, for crying out loud! How much longer could Marik possibly plan to drag this out?
Actually, knowing Marik... Malik shook off the thought.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Bakura said impatiently, grabbing the handle. "I'm really getting sick of this whole damn adventure; let's get this over with."
Before anyone could protest, he gave the door a shove, and it creaked open slowly, leaving the three of them standing in the doorway. Malik took a deep breath. "Okay, here goes nothing." He stepped through the doorway. Then he stopped, and stared at the spectacle he found.
It was a ballroom. Pillars stood tall and proud against the walls, holding up a magnificently painted ceiling. Seraphim peered down from the painted heavens, positioned as if to watch the dancers currently gliding across the marble floor, oblivious to the underdressed strangers who had just entered their midst. The men and women were silent except for the gentle clicking of their shoes as they dipped and spun. Off in the corner, a small orchestra played a melody that floated gently through the room, so very different than any soundtrack Malik would have expected Marik to set this adventure to.
"Holy Ra," Bakura breathed. His eyes flicked back and forth across the room as if he were trying to memorize every detail in one second.
Malik could only gape. "What the heck is Marik thinking...?"
In the center of the room, Malik noticed, hovering just above the dancers, was a large, glowing ball of what could only be light. It pulsed in time to the music, and over the tune Malik could faintly hear it buzzing, like a giant swarm of bees trying to call him from across the room. He was so tempted to go toward it...
Whoa. Where did that thought come from?
"Did that appear in your dream, too, Malik?"
Malik jumped and looked at Ishizu, who was standing next to him. "Well, kind of," he said, looking at the scene around him. "But from what I remember, that" he gestured vaguely at the glowing ball of light, "that thing came before the door. It actually kind of led to it." He didn't mention the sentence that the ball had formed from, the sentence that he'd never had a chance to properly read. Perhaps now was his chance to solve at least one of the mysteries that had been plaguing him since Holly's capture.
Well, what are you waiting for? he asked himself. You know what you have to do.
Malik took a cautious step forward, blinking in bemusement as the dancers parted to let him pass. As he walked, Malik was able to get a closer look at the people and noticed that they were all wearing masks.
Huh. A masquerade. Marik always did like to hide until the last minute.
Malik filed that bit of information away as he reached the center of the ball room. As he stretched out his hand to touch the orb, a sudden thought flashed through his mind. Something's going to happen now.
As soon as his fingers made contact with the glowing, pulsing sphere, it exploded.
Malik shouted in surprise and jumped, quickly yanking back his hand. He squeezed his eyes shut against the light, then forced himself to open them again so he wouldn't miss a thing. Who knew what was going to be important later?
The light seemed to be reaching out to all parts of the room, warming the faces of the oblivious dancers and reflecting sharply off the glass walls. Malik watched as it flashed around the room like fireworks before finally collecting into one mass of energy and popping out with one final spark.
As a fine sheen of shiny dust settled around him, Malik slowly looked around himself. For the first time, he could see the words forming where the light had been just seconds before, though he had no way of knowing whether they were the ones from his dream.
Four words.
"'Come find me, Malik,'" he read aloud- and that was when the music screeched to a stop and someone screamed.
Malik whipped around to see a man with his hand around Ishizu's arm, dragging her through the crowd. The once-calm group of people had turned into a swirling, angry mob, their dancing looking more like a choreographed fight than anything else. People bumped into him and knocked him halfway across the room in their mad rush, and Malik tried desperately to locate his sister again.
"Ishizu!" he yelled, but before he could so much as move toward her, he felt a vice-like grip on his arm, and he was being yanked around in a dizzying sort of waltz. The woman gripping him winked at him from behind her bright blue cat mask. "Sorry, hun," she said brightly over the noise. "You friend had a previous engagement, so she won't be joining us tonight. She sends her regards, though."
Malik swore and tried to wrench his arm free, but the woman's grip was like iron. He gave up trying to get free and let the woman drag him around the room, using the dance as an opportunity to try and glimpse his compainions through the mess. He spotted a flash of white hair, and caught a glance of Bakura jabbing his elbow into somebody's ribcage, and kicking the man who tried to pull him down. Bakura reached into his back pocket, and Malik was willing to bet anything that he was trying to get to some kind of weapon there. Malik opened his mouth to call out, but his partner suddenly released him, sending Malik tumbling backwards. Before he could get regain his footing, a man in a bright red suit and hat reached out and caught him in a sort of twirl, grinning devilishly. "Watch it," the man said. "If you fall, they usually just ignore you and trample right over you. It's really not pleasant, especially when they're wearing heels."
Malik ignored him, trying to find Bakura again. A group of people had finally managed to lock Bakura's arms to his sides, and Malik watched in horror as they dragged him toward the exit. Bakura noticed Malik staring and caught his eye. Malik saw him shout something, but it was impossible for Malik to hear him over the din, and Bakura was swept away.
Malik realized with a sinking sensation that he was alone.
His attention was drawn forcefully back to the man in front of him when he was dipped down and his head knocked against the floor. Malik glared as he was yanked back up. "Hey, you!" he shouted at his captor. "Who the hell do you think you are?"
The man smiled thinly from behind his mask. "I think that I'm a guy just doing my job, and someone you really shouldn't be so harsh on. It's not my fault that I, that is to say, we, belong to Marik." The man's voice was smooth, and there was a hint of sadness in his tone, as well as something Malik couldn't quite place. "We're souls, trapped here, made to do his bidding until someone sets us free," the man continued, adding a theatrical sigh. "It's so incredibly fantastical, yet mundane in its monotony. One would think he could at least think of something else for us to do. You ever try spending decades doing nothing but dancing and eating hors d'eouvres? It's not pleasant." He spun Malik around and dipped him again. "So, are you and your friends here to free us poor, unfortunate souls, or is this your idea of a fun outing?"
"Yes," Malik said, struggling to catch his breath. "I mean, no, we didn't come here to free you, but we are here to beat Marik. Do you think you could help me, if we promised to make sure you get set free?" Malik wasn't exactly sure yet if he could keep that sort of promise, but if it got this man to help him, he was more than willing to bend the truth a bit.
For a split second, Malik was reminded of his days with the Rare Hunters. He's been perfectly happy with "bending the truth" then, too. Some things never change, he thought bitterly.
"I see," the man said in way of an answer, bringing Malik back to the present. He pointed above them, where the glowing words still hung.
"There are your instructions. Marik's hiding in here somewhere. You have to find him, beat him, and set us free." The man chuckled. "Of course, I'm not technically supposed to be telling you this, but since you asked nicely..." He jerked Malik around one more time, then handed him off abruptly to someone else. "If you need me, just ask for Julliard." He winked one more time. "You can always find me somewhere!"
"Okay," Malik said, letting himself be dragged away. "And thanks!"
Julliard bowed once, then disappeared into the crowd.
"All right," Malik muttered to himself. "Concentrate. You can find him. Bakura said something about a connection a while ago, back at breakfast. You shared a mind, for fuck's sake. You can do this." Malik took a deep breath and closed his eyes, doing his best to block out the swooshing skirts, the clicking feet, and the hands dragging him forcefully around the room. He searched slowly through his mind, looking for something that could possibly connect him to Marik.
At first, there was nothing. Then, slowly, Malik began to sense something darker, coiling back as if trying to escape his prodding thoughts. Calling on all of the lessons he had learned about thoughts and feelings while using the Millennium Rod, Malik followed it, latching on to the tendrils as they led him through the shadows. Soon, Malik became vaguely aware that as the dark presence became stronger, the sights and sounds of the ballroom became thinner, weaker...
Suddenly, Malik felt something jerk him, hard, and wrenched his eyes open. He was no longer in the ballroom, but standing in another vast room, this one empty.
Well, at least it's not dark anymore, Malik thought. The silence felt odd after the chaos of the ballroom, and Malik felt a pang as he realized that Bakura and Ishizu were gone, probably still trapped at the masquerade party. "Great," he muttered. "Now I'm completely alone."
Someone chuckled. "Not quite."
Malik whipped around to see Julliard leaning against the far wall, grinning. He was still wearing his bright red mask, and Malik could see a pair of sharp blue eyes behind it. Pushing himself up, he walked over to stand next to Malik. "That was excellent," he said. "You did that much more quickly than I thought you would."
"How did you get here?" Malik asked, confused.
"I just followed your thoughts," Julliard said. "It was really very simple. I suppose you could call that particular ability one of the perks of being dead."
Perks? One of the perks? Malik made a mental note to ask what the others were and how they might be useful, but for now, he had other things he needed to ask about. "Do you know where Ishizu and Bakura are?"
Julliard sighed. "Well, my fellow prisoners are a bit less, ah, open-minded about Marik than I am. They follow his orders quite diligently, and it seems that my, ah, master has become interested in your friends."
Up until now, Malik had only ever thought of someone's blood running cold in times of terror as an expression. Now, he knew how accurate the description actually was. "So Marik has them?" he forced out.
"Most likely."
"Shit," Malik said. Two more of the people closest to him taken away by Marik.
Julliard said, "I know how to get them back, though."
Malik bit his lip and looked at him distrustfully. Years of working with criminals, lowlifes, and Bakura- who was really both of the above yet in a class all his own- had taught him to never blindly follow anyone he didn't know or who he knew to be a criminal and a lowlife and Bakura. For all he knew, this guy was Marik's closest advisor or something. "No offense or anything, but I've had a lot of people screw me over lately. How do I know this isn't a trap?"
Julliard grinned. "You don't. But, then again, do you have much of a choice?"
"I could call someone else," Malik said, but the idea sounded as stupid when he said it out loud as it had when he'd first thought it. Who the hell are you going to call? asked a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Bakura. What, you get cell phone reception here now?
Malik wondered if it was considered redundant to tell himself to shut up.
Judging by his expression, Julliard was thinking something along the same lines as Malik's inner British-bastard voice. "Who on earth could you possibly call from this wasteland?"
"Um..." Malik searched his head for someone he hadn't already thought of trying to contact and came up short. His first choice had been the pharaoh, obviously—that guy saved the world like it was going out of style—but that plan had been shot full of holes by Bakura, who pointed out that world-wide coverage didn't exactly cover the Shadow Realm, and that they couldn't just go talk to him because Marik was blocking all the exits. Not that they had expected Marik to make things easier for them, but they were stranded, with no way out and no way to bring anyone in.
Julliard smiled smugly. "Exactly. Now, is it really that hard for you to trust me?"
"Yes," Malik said automatically.
Julliard sighed. "Look. I hate Marik just as much as you do. It's because of him that I'm stuck here, instead of being able to move on." He scowled. "Marik has a sort of... filter going through the realm of the dead. He picks people up to be his lackeys, and traps them here to do his bidding. It's been in place for years. I suppose we in the ballroom are lucky he's got nothing more diabolical planned for us right now than evenings spent with polite company and an underqualified string orchestrii. Luckily for me, I caught on early and have been devising a plan to get rid of him. Trouble is, I need someone living to help me." He shrugged. "So you see, we'd be helping each other."
Malik thought about him. The man might still be lying about hating Marik, but some of his words were definitely true; he really didn't have many other choices, and he certainly didn't know his way around the Shadow Realm well enough to keep from getting lost. Finally, he sighed. "Okay."
Julliard clapped his hands together gleefully. "Excellent. Now, the real fun begins."
He offered his hand to Malik. "Hold tight, now. We wouldn't want you getting lost." Malik took Julliard's hand, and he closed his eyes as the now-familiar sensation of dissolving took over him.
Just in case anyone is wondering, Mrs. Pierce did not completely disappear from this fic. She still has a purpose to fill, don't you worry. I think I've mentioned this before (maybe?) but my original outline for this is... unusable. So, I'm in the middle of redoing it, and while I have a basic idea of what's going to happen, I don't really have anything set in stone, so any suggestions or critique would be very helpful. :)
I live on reviews. You wouldn't want to starve me, would you? (Wait, don't answer that.) Really, though, it only takes a minute...
Thanks for continuing to read this, everybody.
-Eggy
