Look forward to some BxR angst, acceptance of the dark from the light, more creepy spirit thoughts, and possible Dresdensque pyrotechnics with the help of two psychos. This is probably the CMOA moment. If I can't get this on the page, at least let me pull in the reviews with this...

Oh, yeah, Mist of Rainbows has been kind enough to express her concerns about whether Yami no Yuugi is becoming a Gary Stu. To be honest, I have been considering this as well, seeing as a Gary Stu would mean a complete failure of narrative plot.

Let us consider: In Dresdensque hierarchy, gods top, followed by angels, followed by Faerie Queens. We have the King of Games (who can control the Egyptian Gods) who challenged the Mothers before the current Mothers (you don't really think that faeries don't die?) and won. This, by the way, is before iron became weapon material.

Placed in this context and compared to a Faerie Queen...I think cautious respect instead of fear is merited. Also consider that, in any universe, there is an idiot who wants to rule the whole world, and that summoning a spirit capable of that power is exactly what those idiots would do. So, I am thinking that Mab, the Queen of Air and Darkness, is a lot more far-sighted and considers the implications of the True Name of 'the one who has the knowledge and power of darkness' floating around. Note that to others, this can be interpreted as fear. It's all a matter of perspective, really.

Toot-toot does crazy things for Harry, yeah, I agree. However, remember that Toot-toot is a faerie, and faeries are bound to the orders of the Queens. Also remember that in war, every Wyldfae chooses a side eventually, so the Queens' decrees can spread to the whole of Faerie.

On a final note, Dresden killed the Summer Lady. And Dresden always emphasises that there are more powerful wizards out there. We just have to place it in context.

I hope my reasoning does not disappoint. Thank you, Mist of Rainbows, for addressing this concern.


Chapter 12: Savage Colosseum.

It cannot be seen, it cannot be felt, cannot be heard, cannot be smelt, it lies behind stars and under hills, and empty holes it fills. Comes first, follows after, ends life, kills laughter.

It is darkness; the Darkness that swirls about in this realm in which there is hardly any light, only enough to perceive the shadows and the living black mass of darkness. And in its midst...

Aibou, the one in the darkness whispers, shadows coalescing about it as it approaches the boundary, angry at the news it had just received from the shadows' whispers. The promise of oblivion hung heavy over the realm as the one being pushes on. Sheer willpower forced the weakening spirit to shamble on against the undeniable push of the realm, clad in undying determination of the darkness to reach its desire.

Light, light, light, it chants, a whisper echoing in a realm of silence.

Hold on, my light. Your darkness approaches.


"Harry, this job comprises way too much running!" Bob the talking air-spirit-of-intellect-in-a-skull I had stuffed in my duster yelled as we turned left down one of the many capillaries of alleys that were abundant in cities, especially Chicago, in a bid to escape being chased by zombies. Upon reflection that not only did a skull in the duster stretch the leather out and was a stupid idea to begin with, I made out that at least one was a ghoul which improved our odds somewhat. Ghouls can die, but in the case of a zombie, you can't really kill what's already dead to begin with. And I didn't want to test my not-so-stellar control of fire in cramped quarters like the alleys of Chicago. Knowing my luck, I would probably incinerate my allies as well. As it were, the rapidly diminishing sunlight already meant that our vision was going to be impaired, but a ghoul's night vision would work just fine. And blindly running was just asking to get eaten and killed.

"Why, why, did you have to get involved with him, of all things? I thought the so-called Nameless Pharaoh was dead!" Bob continued wailing. "Even Justin was smart enough to discard the idea!"

"Shut up, Bob!" I roared at my coat pocket as we ran. "Wait till we get far enough, then talk!"

"Far enough?" Ryou panted, just barely keeping up.

"Should be," Marik snapped, pulling a -card?- out of a box on a belt looped around his waist. "Vampire Lord!"

Believe it or not, there was a swirl of purple mist and a man in true Gothic Dracula costume complete with dramatic red cape appeared in a swarm of bats. Marik stood his ground as the chasers stopped in their tracks.

"Vampire Lord, attack!" he yelled, pointing at them. "Children of the Night!"

The friggin vampire turned into a swarm of bats which attacked all of them at once on command, many paces from us.

"It won't hold them forever," Marik panted, leaning against the brick wall. "You, wizard, plan?"

Self-preservation took the questions I had and shelved them aside for later questioning, so I was relatively lucid when I nodded, hands on knees and panting, and said: "Yeah. Burn them to ashes."

"Brilliant," Marik growled, frowning at the rapidly diminishing swarm. "Knew I should have used a stronger monster, anyway, get to setting things on fire! Anyone got gasoline?"

"What if they know where's Yuugi?" Ryou voiced, recovering.

"Burn that bridge when we get to it," I replied. "Now, you two...no, you, the white-haired kid, run and get help. Marik, you back me up and get a nice monster ready to rip whatever remaining from the bonfire, okay? Move!"

Ryou nodded and ran off at the same time Marik asked "What bonfire?"

I hefted my handy blasting rod and grinned. "What do you think?"


Ryou was thanking whatever higher power up there that made sure that Mokuba and Diana had to return to the convention centre for the Queens' War act and Commissioner of the Championships (in Mokuba's case) dragging a protesting -and swearing so much Diana stuffed a bar of anti-bacterial soap in his mouth before they said goodbye to the nice forensic examiner friend of Dresden, as Mr 'Tall, Dark and Unconscious' (in Marik's words) was called- Jounochi along as he dashed through the alleys, (hopefully) in the correct direction to the Forensic Institute and thus Harry's surgeon friend and a phone.

You know, I could deal with those if you'd just let me, a certain Thief King conversationally stated, and Ryou swore that the spirit was cleaning its nails on a metaphorical shirt as it said so, leaning on the wall and leering from wherever its soul room was -he prayed that it was not attached to his soul- now.

"You take control, and then who knows how long before I get my body back," he spoke out loud. If he was going to deny the spirit's existence, might as well go all the way and go mad. A sanatorium overlooking the English Channel was looking more and more attractive...

Why would I? The spirit was clearly amused. I'm clearly sane after about three millennia of being puppet-controlled by a dark god trying to destroy the world, and I even got comeuppance for that. I'm clearly the other half of your soul and without me you'd never feel complete like right now, and I have a vested self-interest in you breathing, in control of your own body, and not in the nice happy place with jackets with long sleeves and padded walls that you've been threatened with before when I get back. And, you think a sea view's an improvement?

"You are not here, you're not my boss, and you will not steal whatever life I've built up in these three years!" Ryou heatedly spoke as he slowed to a walk within sight of the Forensic Institute. "I've got on fine for three years without you, and before that almost a whole year, and before that almost fifteen years of my life! Get out of my head and back to the afterlife!"

Oh? Really? I have testimony from our deck that says otherwise.

"It's my deck, not our deck!" Ryou shot back to thin air. Several people on the street turned to look at him. He stormed on towards the Forensic Institute, ignoring the looks.

It's been what, four years since Battle City? You still keep Dark Sanctuary, Dark Necrofia, Diabound and the rest of them with you. You've been building a deck mostly around Fairy-Types, but you've never thrown out a Fiend card. And, the clincher is that your favourite card, my hikari, is still Change of Heart. The Battle City deck is still intact, with not a single change in it.

"How do you know...?"

You've been drowning in the holy river of the Nile, omote.

"Shut up..." Ryou murmured, determination fading.

Omote – he was hallucinating if Thief King Bakura sounded concerned...

"Shut up already..." The semi-mental conversation had left him drained, yes, that was it, that was not denial setting in-

Look out, Ra dammit!

There it was again, the familiar feeling of darkness calling, of being safely ensconced and wrapped in darkness and shadows and just wanting to sleep and it would all be over when he woke up...the familiar detachment of body from mind, the wrapping of soul within protective shadows whose master was at least around to fill the void of loneliness...

For once, part of Ryou Bakura called to the shadows, and the shadows answered.

As a ghostly arm wrapped itself around his waist, Ryou could have sworn that another arm was pointing at the would-be ghoul assassin, and a rough voice like sandpaper, all harsh and rough and uncultured would have roared in rage:

Penalty Game!


Katsuya Jounochi resisted the urge to call Ryou and Marik as he milled about the filling convention centre, watching Mai mop up the last of 'Bandit' Keith Howard. Something was niggling at him, like the Shadows themselves were agitating for him to do something and fast.

His deck reacted as before his eyes flashed a series of images; a trio of men running towards them, with the feeling of malicious intent. Easy enough to understand, someone needed help from being chased by weirdos, nothing odd there. This was finished with the image that caused him to swallow.

Instead of the semi-serene image of Change of Heart, up flashed the horrifying visage of Diabound Kernel.

For one thing, Ryou had always signed off their card-calls with the Change of Heart. And even then, there was no way the gentle half-British Duellist would ever use the horrifying card that the dark Bakura had inflicted upon them all. It would be too much of a cruel joke...

"It's Katsuya Jounochi!" he heard a squeal, and just barely resisted the urge to face-palm in public. The Duellist's curse: rabid fans.

Sorry, you're on your own now...or not...

"Kaiba," he whispered to the CEO standing within earshot.

Three years of teaming up with the 'mutt' against Yuugi's more extreme situations had taught Seto Kaiba that Katsuya Jounochi would only use that tone in times such as the last World Championships which had been crashed by the whole Black Magician family. The warning pulse from Kisara gave him pause to doubt the lucky Duellist.

"Diabound," Kaiba growled. "Not Bakura, then, but the other."

"Ryou's in danger," Jounochi whispered back as Harpy Lady Sisters decimated Keith's Roulette Barrel with the help of Triangle Ecstasy Spark and won Mai the duel. "I've gotta..."

"You go nowhere, your match is next," Kaiba growled. "And you're up against Rebecca Hawkins."

"Kaiba, I can't stay here, Yuugi's missing-"

"Move your ass to the duelling podium, dolt. Obviously you can't move, so I'm sending someone who can," Kaiba snapped, any semblance of patience gone. "And believe me, if the other Bakura got loose, it would be a lot more bloody and depressing here, and the crowd doesn't look depressed."

The CEO had a point; Jounochi had hardly ever seen a bigger turnout for a Duel Monsters-oriented convention outside of Japan and Europe and convention-goers were cheering on him and the now-teenaged Rebecca smirking at him from across the duel podium.

"Move it!"

And Kaiba demonstrated skill a drill sergeant would kill to have by shoving the blonde Duellist up on the platform by sheer will alone.

As the Duel started, Kaiba began to wince as a migraine set in. This feeling...the maniac Ishtar as well?


As one zombie lay smouldering, and twitching slightly as the purifying effects of fire did its work on the mangled body, Marik reflected that setting things on fire was not a very good idea in enclosed spaces like an alley. For one thing, though it did its work, the wizard, Dresden, was now in line of sight of whatever he could use Vampire Lord to attack. Also, the fire had increased the temperature to something less than the cool autumn that was beginning to grow on him.

"Vampire Lord, take down the zombie!" he grated through his teeth, aware that his current skill level and exhaustion meant that it was impossible for him to summon anything stronger than Vampire Lord for a while.

Maybe I can, giggled the other Marik, and Marik could swear that Malik was appearing in a ghostly form right next to him and definitely with a presence even despite the lack of body. Hikari-pretty, let me, let me...

"No chance," Marik grated, willing the Vampire Lord to rip a seemingly indestructible walking undead body into pieces while the wizard dealt with the ghoul. No matter how inadvisable it was for a mortal to go hand-to-hand with a supernatural being with strength and speed to match. The wizard seemed to be holding his own, though...

In his peripheral vision, Marik saw the ghoul scratch the wizard before kicking the back of the wizard's knee and raise its claws for a finishing blow through Dresden's skull. Without thinking, Marik threw himself forward and pushed the wizard back, aware that the claws were already going to come down onto his skull...

Hikari-pretty!

And as he changed places with his darkness, Marik wondered why this time was so much more comfortable than the previous times...


I watched as the seemingly physically weaker Marik Ishtar overpowered the ghoul, slamming said half-hyena hybrid into the brick wall hard enough to cause spider-web cracks to form in brick. Even the ghoul's super-strength was wasted as Marik grabbed its throat and dug his fingers into soft muscle tissue, uncaring as blood spilled over his hand.

"I am extremely tired of this," the cold voice that was not Marik Ishtar hissed. The ghoul, or at least what I could make out as I got up, seemed to pale and stopped struggling. "I want answers. Why?"

The ghoul bared its teeth in a gesture of defiance.

"Juragedo, Vampire Lord," Marik hissed. A puff of purple mist, and another strange, mostly cuboid and spherical monster appeared beside the Dracula rip-off that was shaking the zombie blood off its hand. Yeah, I can't imagine the blood of undead as tasty either. "It seems that someone is trying to hurt hikari-pretty," the creepy high pitch was back, "and I should really do something about this, no? Juragedo, here..."

The ghoul howled in panic as the cube-sphere monster floated over to it and began babbling in Demotic.

"Er, 'we were supposed to take the white-haired one and the two blondes to master, we did not know that they were shadow-touched, the LaRouche clan meant no harm to the tomb, please don't kill us, great one,'" Bob rapidly translated. My talking skull was always better at languages than me.

"What's it about this Pharaoh?" I asked Bob quietly.

"It's one of the legends of the supernatural world." Bob whispered at me, eyeing an eerily laughing Marik. "A powerful Pharaoh-god of long and long ago, who commanded the Darkness like his own and passed the judgements of the gods. Some say that he played a game with fate and won."

"Did he?" I asked.

"He sealed a dark god that was out to destroy worlds by giving up his true Name and sealing his soul in an artefact," Bob replied. "No one really knows what happened to his remains or his legacy, not even the Archive of the time. No one really knows if half the things he supposedly did was true; that he did challenge the Black King to a Dark Game and won. Of course, afterwards the White Council came in and destroyed physical evidence of this magic they considered dark, with the exception of in Egypt. It became mostly hearsay thereafter, since the thought of a single entity able to command those of the void that once lay on the face of the deep is just plain scary."

"Why?" I asked, as the ghoul started pleading for mercy away from Marik and his monsters.

"Too close to all seven laws," Bob replied. "At some point, that magic would have crossed all but the Sixth Law, and it's pretty damn powerful and increases with continued use rather than diminishing with proliferation. So the White Council pulled a cultural revolution, but they couldn't touch the real dark stuff that's been guarded over by tomb-keepers for millennia."

The ghoul began screaming in more pain and babbling as the vampire Marik had called -how did he do that?- plucked off a hand. Eww. I felt like hurling.

"'Those of the LaRouche allied with the one called Cowl will come and kill you,'" Bob translated as the ghoul's claws scored Marik's forearm.

Cowl. The most powerful necromancer I've ever had the misfortune to meet. A powerful warlock who tried something years ago in this very city to raise himself into god-like power, and just barely stopped by yours truly. He later involved himself in a White Court conflict and I nearly died again. He was bad news, and his appearance here absolutely did not bode well. Good money says that he was involved in this kidnapping.

The Egyptian ignored the blood seeping from his arms as his grip tightened, his other and pulling out a huge, long knife from his boot that he appraisingly studied. "Oh, what a nice sharp knife," the scary tomb-keeper cooed. I felt sickened at Marik's personality change. The ghoul's eyes bulged out in realisation. "Let's try it out."

The ghoul's head made a squelch sound as it was decapitated and it impacted on pavement. I would have felt sickened if not for the reason that if it didn't die, we would have.

The second reason was that in the dying sunlight, I saw that Marik's eyes were indeed red, instead of lavender...a mad, mad red like blood...

And the soul-gaze began.


Please review!

Oh, yeah. About Morgan: I've said in a previous chapter that the Tomb-Keepers were only inducted into the White Council around the Battle of El Alamein (that's 1940s era) and presumably because of Kemmler (the crazy necromancer who tried to turn himself into a god and seriously pushed the envelope of dark magic in Dresden canon in Dead Beat, for DF fans).

Of course, Langtry the Merlin is a paranoid bastard -this opinion is subject to bias after reading the Dresden Files- right after Morgan, and so I don't think it far-fetched to send the most intimidating Warden ever after the Tomb-Keepers. Further considering the mostly patriarchal society the Tomb-Keepers seem to employ, Luccio would have been rejected, so Morgan would have made the next best choice.

I hope my reasoning is correct...