Heyyy!

Yes, a new chapter! Everybody partay... I think.

Disclaimer: I own zilch.

"Bakura?"

"What!" The captain snapped, glaring over at Malik, who jumped back, startled. "What." He repeated again, letting out a long sigh. "Sorry, just a bit wound-up."

"I can tell." The blonde frowned. "I've been looking for you all afternoon... I spoke to Ryou."

"Oh." Something in Bakura's face tensed, and he looked away. "What... What did he say?"

"He's not going anywhere." Malik murmured gently. "He doesn't want to leave you. That's what he said."

"... Really?" Bakura finally shifted his concentration from the map in front of him, and to Malik. "He didn't."

"He did." Malik affirmed. "Crazy, huh?"

"I don't believe it." Bakura muttered flatly. "He said..." The white-haired man cleared his throat. "He's not acting like he wants to stay with me."

"He's angry." Malik murmured. "And messed in the head. Can't you even give his feelings a little consideration?"

"You're just like him!" Bakura sounded exasperated. "And I'm getting really... Look, what are you even doing?"

"Huh?" Malik blinked, confused. "What are you-"

"Captain!" It was Joey who burst the quiet, running across the main deck and leaping the stairs three at a time to the upper area. "Ya gotta see this... Oh man it just came outta nowhere..."

"What are you talking about?" Bakura stood up, noticing the tone in Joey's voice. "What came out of nowhere?"

"That." The blonde forced a long telescope in Bakura's hands, and pointed to a speck on the horizon. A ship, one could tell even from that distance.

"Huh, I don't..." Bakura trailed off as he lifted the powerful spyglass to his eye, focusing on the ship, most notably the flag which hung atop the tall mast.

The Union Jack.

"Shit!" Bakura took a step back, eyes wide. That particular flag, in such a day and age where "Britain" was but a collective of three intensely divided nations, only had one use. "English military."

"What?" Malik gasped, and snatched the brass telescope from Bakura's lax hand. "You can't be serious!"

"'E is." Joey linked his fingers together, and rested them on his head. "Mebbe they're passin'."

"No." Bakura shook his head. "Not one ship like that. And such a big one. That's heading for us. I know it."

"No, you don't." Malik reasoned. "Don't be so paranoid Bakura, there's no need to think that one mouldy old ship is gonna take this on. We're more notorious than that... I hope."

"Either way, they would have seen the flag." Bakura looked up at the plain black banner, wincing. "They'll know we're pirates and chase after us."

"How far away do you think they are?" Malik lowered the telescope, biting hard on his lower lip. "Can we lose them?"

"Oh, we're not running." Bakura narrowed his eyes. "Joey, turn the ship around. Head straight for them. Let's test the gallantry of the English Navy."

"Got it." Joey was gone, running to the vast wooden wheel. Bakura stood with his hands at his sides, looking deep in thought while Malik still stared over the ocean worriedly, his nails digging into his palms. A moment later, the pair lurched forward as the boat listed hard to the right, Joey turning the massive vessel a hundred-and-eighty degrees. A few shouts of confusion came up from the main deck, and cries of indignation.

"Is taking the aggressive stance a good idea?" Malik looked back to Bakura, concern and fear in his eyes. "That ship will be crawling with seamen. Maybe-"

"Malik." Bakura's hands were on his hips, a frown on his face. "Who's the pirate captain here?"

"You are." Malik muttered gloomily, teeth gritted.

"And who's the slave lucky to be here and not on a plantation in the Americas?"

"I am." Malik crossed his arm, acting like a right teenager. "All right, I get it. But what if you're overpowered?"

"That's not gonna happen." Bakura said calmly. "Look, someone's obviously been tailing us since London. I can't believe I let this happen... I can tell you something, Malik, they won't expect us to turn around and fight. If nothing else, we have that."

"Yes, but..." Malik groaned, shaking his head. "Bakura-"

"Don't you trust me?" Bakura cut over him sharply, a frown on his face.

"Yes, I do, but-"

"Then don't question my judgement." Bakura muttered coolly.

"... Yeah. All right." Shoulders slumped, Malik turned away, and headed back onto the main deck. No doubt Joey would heap orders on him, now they had to get ready for a fight, and then just when things got interesting, Malik would be sent below deck. It was a frustrating pattern, one that angered Malik to no end. He wasn't useless. He'd been looking after himself for years, why didn't Bakura understand?

I know it's concern. Malik paused in his walk, and leaned against the railing, staring out over the sea. Already, the ship had grown in size, where, if one squinted and shaded their eyes, they could just discern the outline of the sails. I've seen some of the wounds these people get. The lost eyes and hands. And when they get killed... Malik shudder in remembrance of some mutilations he'd witnessed. Bakura's right, I guess. Knowing me, I'd chicken out and get myself shot or stabbed of beheaded. But I'll never know because he won't bloody let me prove myself. I can be more than a cleaner here! This is womens' work that I'm doing, it's so stupid! I know what he said about the Americas is right, and I'm bloody lucky that he found me. But still!

... I got a bad feeling about this.

"All right men!"

They lined up, in a row of twenty, their shoulders almost touching. Bakura stood, about ten feet away from them, his hands behind his back. "I don't need to pep you up." Bakura smirked. "You're all hardened soldiers. Real fighters! Those pussyfooting English navymen have nothing on you. They fight for political reasons they don't even understand. What kind of soldiers are they! Not that I'm calling you soldiers." Bakura added, noting a few lips curling. "I would never insult you such." He smiled, dipping his head in a slight nod. Joey watched Bakura intently, his eyes slightly narrowed, and hands balled into fists.

"It seems that a member of the English navy plans to invade us." Bakura continued. "Perhaps he is after a promotion, or fame and glory. Either way, he has taken us for a band of fools. Trying to sneak up on us, as though we don't have eyes and ears!" He started to pace, back and forth, his eyes on the floorboards.

"I know we haven't fought anyone like this in a long time," Bakura confessed, still walking. "But I have complete faith in all of you." He stopped, staring at the ship which was almost in firing distance. "Malik," Bakura turned, to look at the Egyptian, who stood up off the crate he was perched on. "Raise the red flag." There was a tight stillness in the air, as Malik obeyed, the coarse rope slipping through his fingers as he lowered the large black flag, attaching the new, crimson banner. The band of pirates tensed slightly, knowing what the colour symbolised.

"No quarter." Bakura reported. "Except the captain and his second-in-command. I want to know what the hell they're doing trying to jump us. Kill the rest. No prisoners. No mercy."

Silence. Bakura didn't need a shout of affirmation, didn't want such an uncouth gesture. He kept his gaze locked on the ship, his eyes narrowing, hands gripping the railing. For almost a minute, he was still, the air around him pregnant with trepidation.

"All right, get below deck!" He turned around, springing to action. "Ready the cannons, I want us firing in less than a minute! Joey, you command them below! Now move!" The ship bustled into action, and, like ants, they all scurried through the tiny doorway, in single file, thundering down the stairs. "Malik, come here." Malik lay the folded black flag down, and ran towards Bakura, staring at him questioningly. "I know I usually make you keep the guns loaded." He stared Malik full in the face. "But today, get Ryou. He's in our room. Take him below deck, into my room. Lock the door, and don't let anyone in but me, all right?"

"In other words, you want me to hide." Malik muttered, clearly less than happy with the prospect.

"No," Bakura sighed. "I want you to look after Ryou. He still doesn't know what's going on."

"All right, I got it." Malik turned to leave, when Bakura gripped his elbow, tightly. "What?"

"Malik, I'm serious." Bakura spoke in a low voice. "If anything happens to Ryou, I'm serious here, I will hold you responsible. Guard the kid with all you have."

"Yes, yes." Malik muttered, pulling himself free.

"And Malik!" Bakura called as the Egyptian started to walk away. Malik paused, and turned around, frowning in confusion. "Take care of yourself, too." He added, a small smile on his face. Malik chuckled slightly, and nodded, watching as Bakura disappeared below deck. His heart skipped a beat as he opened the door to the luxurious bedchamber, making Ryou start, and look up from his near-finished book.

"Malik?" Ryou lowered the Roman novel, his forehead wrinkling in a frown. "What's wrong? You look a little worried..."

"You have to come with me." Malik said gravely, looking anxiously out the window. From this view, the ship could not be seen at all, and so Ryou was confused, as opposed to afraid. "Quickly."

"A-All right." Ryou closed the book, and got up off the bed, following obediently. He was barefoot, and wearing no warm clothing, but, conscious of his time, and Ryou's feelings, Malik grabbed the whitenette's wrist and said nothing, despite the fact he knew it would be cold and damp. "Where are we going?"

"Downstairs." Ryou's frown deepened at the tone in Malik's voice, and when he got onto the main deck, spying the main ship, he froze.

"Malik..."

"Come on." Malik pulled at his wrist harder as he scuttled across the deck, Ryou lurching after him. Down the stairs, and through the narrow passageway, Ryou was dragged along by the desperate blonde, his fear growing as he heard the shouts and gabbling from below his feet.

"Malik, what is going on!" Ryou pleaded as he was pushed inside Bakura's small room, Malik shutting the door, and locking it quickly, the room pitch black. "I cannot see!"

"Sorry." Malik blundered across the room, trying to feel his way through the woolly darkness. As his fingertips grazed the smooth, rounded glass of the kerosene lamp, however, a terrific BOOM, accompanied by a vast shudder overcame the ship, earning a high cry from Ryou, who lost his precarious balance, falling to the floor. A few seconds later, a sickening crunch tore a hole in the side of the English naval ship, yells audible even from their dark prison. Again, and again, the hollow sounds reverberated around the ship, until half a dozen cannons had been fired.

"Malik!" Ryou gasped, trembling violently. "Wh-What-"

"Shush." Malik's teeth were gritted as he lit the match, and held the shrivelling stick against the coarse thread of white rope. A moment later, a weak orb of yellow light pierced the room, throwing ominous shadows about the walls. Boom! "Where are you?"

"Here." Ryou sniffed, and shakily stood up. "Malik," His voice wavered. "Wh-What is going on here?"

"It's a ship by the English navy." Boom! He pulled out the rickety wooden chair, which Ryou took a seat upon. "They've been following us since London."

"O-Oh?" Ryou looked up at the blonde questioningly, as though he were about to press for more answers, but Maliks shrug illustrated that he simply had no more information to give. Boom! "Why?"

"Because we're pirates." Malik murmured, watching the little yellow flame grow increasingly steady. "Take the ship, hang the criminals, and hang, draw, and quarter the captain. All in a days' work for those people."

"Th-They would what?" Ryou gasped, eyes impossibly round. "H-Hang draw and quarter Bakura?"

"It's all right." Malik said soothingly. "Bakura wouldn't let that happen, trust me."

"Y-You know that that entails?" Ryou's voice was faint. "They disembowel you, take our your insides while you watch, then cut you into pieces while you are still alive..."

"It wont happen." Malik said calmly. "Ryou, please. He's not important enough for that, it's only for political or religious treasonists. They'd only hang him."

"Only?" Ryou breathed. "O-Oh God. Oh my..."

"Ryou." Malik gripped Ryou's shoulders staring at him in the face. "Stop. You haven't seen these pirates in action. Well, not on a ship." He added quickly, noting a tightening of Ryou's expression. "They'll mop the floor with whoever it is."

"W-Well, but I-" Ryou screamed as an awesome crunch! broke through the side of the ship, some distance away, but still enough to intensely frighten him. "Malik!"

"It's all right." Malik murmured, his tight grip on Ryou's shoulders relaxing comfortably a little. "It's going to be-" Another cannonball crashed into the ship, this time much closer, making the bewildered and terrified teenager cling to Malik, tears forming in his eyes. "Shit!" The cannons were firing almost consistently at this point, both by Bakura and the ship under the command of Seto.

"M-Malik, I-" He screamed again, loudly as a cannonball burst into the room, and instinctively, Malik wrapped his arms around Ryou, knocking them both to the floor. He used himself as a shield for the younger teen, Ryou pressed against the floorboards as another cannon shot through the room, accompanied by the sound of splintering wood. Underneath Malik, Ryou was shaking and sobbing, his mind fraught with the worst images – of being killed by a cannon, having his throat cut or heart stabbed. Unlike Malik, he'd had no experience at all of naval warfare, had no idea what was going on. He was terrified, confused, and the only comfort he had was Malik holding onto him tightly, murmuring soothing words into his ear, trying to dispel the whitenette's fears. For almost five minutes, the heavy bombardment of cannonballs continued, until a rapid transition from consistent fire to a mere peppering of huge metal bullets. Eventually, Malik lifted his head, shaking just as much as Ryou, but struggling to keep a stoic facade. The wall had a good four cannonball holes through it, which continued also to the other side, as though a giant pole had rammed through the wall and then was quickly withdrawn.

"It's all right Ryou." Gingerly, Malik pulled himself into a standing position, and, almost doubled over, ran across the room, peering through a cannonball-hole which was at eyelevel.

The ship was very close. He strained his ears, the sounds of shouting, the clanging of swords and occasional gunshots filling the air. It was clear that the ship had been boarded – but which one bore the majority of the fighting, Malik was unable to tell. He looked back at Ryou, who was swathed in darkness, apart from one of the holes, which lit up part of his face, his nose, cheek, and one red-rimmed eye, shrouded in a tangle of thick white hair.

"Wh-What is going on?" Ryou rubbed at his eyes, clearly finding speech a challenge.

"Interchange between the ships." Malik reported. "Fighting." He added, noting the look of confusion on Ryou's face.

"Oh." The whitenette sniffed again, and then nodded. "I see. And we must stay here?"

"You got it." He took a seat back on the floor beside Ryou, slinging an arm about the whitenette's slim shoulders. "But we'll be fine here. We're hidden, in a locked room."

"Riddled with holes." Ryou sniffed, and nevertheless buried his head in Maliks' shoulder.

"We'll be fine." Malik repeated, but gently touched Ryou's face anyway, wiping at his tears. "Don't cry. You will be all right. I promise you."

"I cannot help." Ryou sniffed. "Th-That was just so... Frightening!"

"I know." Malik nodded. "I almost wet myself too." He smiled weakly, and then looked up at the ceiling. It sounded like a herd of elephants up there...

"Joey!" Bakura ducked the swishing arm of the seaman, giving the somewhat blundering man a sound kick in the stomach. He flailed his arms desperately, and fell off the railing and into the water, comically. He turned his attention to the three other men who had rounded on him. He shot one in the face, and stabbed another in the chest, beheading the last man on the backstroke. Dropping the now useless pistol to the floor, Bakura dashed across the deck of the Navy ship, easily cutting down all those who attempted to stand in his way. Joey was locked in an intense combat with a tall brunette, who wore a pitch black coat with bands of gold at the sleeves. The Captain.

Seto had, with a clever trick learned in Spain, disarmed Joey, and sent him tumbling to the floor. Before he could land the killing blow, however, his sword was intercepted by another. Seto looked up in surprise, to see Bakura smiling grimly at him. He swung his sword back, taking a swipe at the pirate captain, but Bakura easily caught the blow with his own, metal biting metal. By the time, Joey had found his feet again, the sword in his hand once more. Seto inwardly sighed. Two of these rogues. I should be so lucky. He rested on the balls of his feet, knees slightly bent, as he waited for one of the others to make the first move. It was Joey who attempted the first strike, making a swing at Seto, but the skilled brunette blocked it easily, also deflecting Bakura's blow on the back swing. They circled a little in their motions, a clustered nucleus surrounded by tight-knit groups of fighting. The pirates were outnumbered almost three-to-one, but they were hardened with years of battle and skilled, and as Bakura noted, fought for their very lives and liberty, while the naval soldiers were mostly barely-trained, unskilled, a rabble of men, young and old. Seto Kaiba had not been given the best men the English Navy had on hand – and they suffered grievously for it.

"Come on, is that all you have?" Seto smirked, panting slightly. He took a momentary stock. The blonde was crude, although brutal and skilled, lacking in any articulate moves and tricks. The captain was much better, he actually gave Seto a run for his money, but the slightly arrogant brunette still wasn't perceiving him as any real threat. He whipped his head around, caught a momentary glimpse of Atemu on the Grail, and, sighing, turned and made after him. He may have seemed as though he was running, yes, but this was actually far from the truth. He knew that taking on the two of these clearly skilled men was folly – he would need the backing of Atemu, as unpleasant as the thought may be.

"Hey!" Joey cried in protest.

"Get back here!" Bakura added, the pair of them in hot pursuit, Seto crossing the gangplank between the ships, launched by the pirates, easily, ducking his head a little to avoid gunfire.

"There you are." Atemu muttered grimly as Seto turned, taking up his fighting stance once more. Obediently, Atemu joined him, the four of them a cluster of swords and limbs, which finally broke into two deadly battles – Seto versus Joey, and Atemu facing Bakura in intense combat. Their increased numbers giving them momentum, the navy was slowly winning. Pirates ran back to their ship, rallying together in groups that managed to take down significant knots of men. Soon, the majority of the fighting was on the pirate ship, the cannon fire had ceased, all hands were literally on deck, as the group of men fought desperately for their lives.

"I don't like this." Malik murmured as he looked up at the ceiling, noticing how much louder the thumping above them had grown – more men had clustered onto the pirate ship. "I really don't like this..."

"Please do not." Ryou had curled up in a corner, trying to make himself as small as possible. "I-I am terrified enough as it is..."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Malik looked over at Ryou, his shoulders slumping. "I didn't mean to scare you... It's going to be okay."

"No, I-"

"No, I mean it." Malik said earnestly, walking towards the boy and crouching down in front of him. "Why do you think Bakura isolated us from the rest? He knows what happens to the crew if we lose. Listen to me, Ryou. You were kidnapped. You attempted to escape in London. You have no reason to be afraid for your life. You're not a pirate, you're a hostage. If anyone comes at you, tell them that, that you're the kidnapped son of an English nobleman. They won't touch you."

"Y-You really mean that?" Ryou sniffed, rubbing at his nose. Malik nodded. "But... What about you?"

"What about me?" Malik shrugged. "I'm a captive slave here too, a prisoner. I was taken here against my wish and forced into heavy labour."

"No one will believe that." Ryou said deeply. "I-I'm sure they won't..."

"Yeah, they will." Malik nodded. "I've pulled that before. Saved me from getting shot, too. So don't worry, okay?"

"I am still going to worry." Ryou protested. "But I-"

"Shh!" Malik's eyes widened, and he held up his hands. Affronted, Ryou closed his mouth, although the deep frown on his face expressed his deep displeasure. Malik cocked his head to one side, eyes narrowed. Someone was coming down the stairs. Loudly.

"Get down." Malik muttered, keeping his voice low. "Flat on the floor. And stay very quiet." Too terrified to complain or do else, Ryou nodded, and lay on his stomach, his shaking intensified. "Follow." He breathed, and with a gesture of a curled finger, made his way across the floor. The man had stomped across the dining room, and was now systematically opening all the doors, examining their holey insides. Soon, the man, fat and unpleasant, had rested his hand on the doorknob to Bakura's room, and twisted. Nothing. Locked. Something of value was in there. He shot the lock, with his last pistol, which he let clatter loudly to the floor, kicking what was left of the broken door in. As he stepped on the threshold, the room seemed empty. However, the smell of kerosene, which pervaded the room after the lamp had been broken in the fray, gave off a smell, which had a deeper, more intense odour clinging to it – it had just been heated and burned. He stomped towards the broken fragments of lamp, bent down, and pressed a finger against a curved pane of glass. Still warm.

Underneath the desk, Ryou was pressed into Maliks side, a caramel hand clamped tightly over his mouth. Too terrified to move, to breathe, the pair kept themselves hunched, as small as possible.

"'Ellooooo." He uttered in a cruel singsong. "I know yer in 'ere." The man spied the desk, and, lips curling in a smile, he walked around to the back of the desk, easily kicking the wooden furniture away. Ryou screamed, and curled into Malik, pressing his face into his shoulder. "What's this?"

"Don't hurt us!" Malik held up his hands in an instant gesture of surrender. "We're hostages! Please, we're not pirates!"

"Oh?" Maliks' heart sank when he saw the look in the mans' eyes. He simply didn't care. To him, the two ragged, terrified teenagers in front of him were the enemy. "An' I care?"

"He's English!" Malik pleaded, eyeing the sword in the seaman's hand. "The son of a nobleman! And I'm a captured slave. Please... We're not..." He trailed off, lip trembling as the man raised the long sword in his blue-sleeved arm, frozen with terror. Ryou was sobbing weakly, and Malik had wrapped his arms around the small youth, riddled with utter hopelessness.

"I got orders t' kill." He exposed rotting teeth in shades of yellow and brown in a cruel smile. And it was true. Perhaps if Seto had warned his crew to be on the lookout for a slim youth with long white hair, and to spare him, Ryou would have been safe – but as it was, Seto had not, intending on keeping the true intentions of the mission a secret, knowing the outcry that would ensue from the crew of sixty realising their visit to France was a facade to save one relatively unimportant person.

And with that, the crude soldier brought the sword down.

... Hmm.

What is is about evil cliffhangers that I just love so?

Don't hurt meh! -ducks-

R&R?