Chapter 36: Dance with the Devil
Dueling, dueling everywhere! So. . .many of them. Oh, and this is the first time you'll see Odion's deck in the story. It's a bit different than his previous deck, which had been focused around the idea of a false Winged Dragon of Ra. There are a couple of things that remained the same, but other than that, it's completely different and more fitting for him.
Odion watched in dumbfound horror as he watched Marik clutch at his head, eyes tightly shut, like he was fighting off a migraine.
Or worse.
And that made the older man shudder with fear. In the years of the Battle City aftermath, they had spent some time researching on what could have triggered the birth of his darker side, something they now believed was in fact, another facet of his personality—a darker one-, and not a true yami, like those of the Millennium Puzzle and Ring. In they end, they have determined that it was a multitude of factors, not the Rod. Because of this, and in despite of the supposed banishment of the false yami to the Shadow Realm, they had fears that perhaps there was still a "shadow" of the darker side lurking within the young man's psyche. As time passed though and Marik seemed to be his regular self, they concluded that their fears had been unfounded.
Odion rushed to the barrier, uncaring of the Orichalcos' powers. He pounded a fist on the force field, but the magic instantly repelled it back, a burning sensation racing through his nerves. Odion thrust the pain out of his mind and continued. "Marik! Marik, are you alright!"
"Get. . .out...of my. . .head!" Marik swayed uneasily on his feet, the debilitating pain from the yami's assault, clouding his mind and senses, making it difficult to even remain upright. He managed to force the assailing voice from his mind, so he could unleash the coup de grace on Tshilaba and end the duel. He staggered upright, blinking slowly, as if viewing the stage for the first time.
"I'm giving you one last chance before I finish the duel," he said in between pants, his confrontations with the yami becoming more strenuous and exhaustive. "You can wipe out the Orichalcos and reveal the locations of the stolen items and Sivya. Do it, before the Seal takes your soul."
Tshilaba was quiet for a moment, studying her array. With the chain a few turns ago wiping out her Wall of Thorns, she had no shielding for Tytannical, no matter how strong it was. Marik could easily wipe the rest of her life points, if he managed to find a way to wipe out Tytannical. Then, the Orichalcos would take her soul, leaving her body as nothing but a shell. The finality of her fate seemed to sink in just then and her heart managed to skip a beat, shivers running down her spine and across her skin. It was final, the soul stealing powers of the Orichalcos were. She had heard tales of how the spell could be reversed, even eliminated from the field, nullifying its fearsome powers, but she knew none of those techniques, the appropriate magic to save her from the end. She had been nothing more than a pawn, using powers that were beyond her control. That was why she liked to use poison as a method of killing enemies; she could control that, using her own concoctions against her foes.
The Orichalcos was a sentient being, something she couldn't control.
And with that, she comprehended the terminality of her own fate
Her green eyes, which always seemed so angry and cold, were almost contemplative for a moment, peering upon her own fate. Her posture seemed to change and shrink, reminding Marik of not the fierce, temperamental and bitter woman, but younger, more unsure of herself, fear flitting across her features like a dark shadow. But was quickly as the moment came, it passed.
"You're a fool to think otherwise Marik. You can't change me; no one can, and no one will. Your honeyed words no longer weave their magic as they might have once a long time ago. I will accept my fate should it turn out that way." With that, Tshilaba lowered her Duel disk to her side, almost resigned as she awaited her fate. "Play your card."
"Yes, yes, yes!"
"NO!"
"Do it, or I will!"
Odion watched in horror as Marik's features seemed to shift and change, revealing the visage of a mad man, one that Odion had been dreading all those years. But then, it was gone, Marik's face haggard and weary, the duel taking more of a toll than expected.
"I play my card, United We Stand and equip it to my End of Anubis, which give him an additional 1600 attack and defense points, since I have two monsters on the field, bringing him up to 4100 attack points. Now, End of Anubis, finish this duel!"
"YES!"
The lupine monster swung its jagged claws at Tytannical, shredding her to bits, her dress of rose petals breaking apart, the petals scattered to the wind that should have never been there. Tshilaba watched all of this unfold with eyes that looked like flat river stones, devoid of life. Her life points clicked down to zero and she sunk to her knees, eyes half lidded as if falling into slumber.
In an instant, Marik ran across the field, to kneel next to her, the yammering of his yami ringing in his ears. He made one final effort to push him away. His hand gripped Tshilaba's shoulders, shaking her roughly. "Where are they?"
Tshilaba's eyes flickered open, but there was no malice, not this time. "The girl is in a warehouse in the northern part of town, just beyond the limits. And the scrolls, they're are at my hotel room, but the stones. . ." she paused, eyes eyes going to the rapidly closing Seal. "Are gone. I sent them to my Master."
"You master!" He shouted angrily. "Who is your master! And where is he!"
She coughed. "My Master is. . ." she arched her back suddenly, the powers of the Orichalcos trying to wrench her soul away. She fought it, staved the effects off just for a little longer. "Is a man called. . .Midas."
Marik's heart wanted to drop down from his ribcage. The man that had sent the mask and the disk was behind the merry chase across the Middle East the entire time.
But why?
"And where is he?"
"At. . ." she flinched, the powers of the Seal too strong for her. She could feel it, like tentacles slithering and clenching around her soul, wresting it away from her body. "Çanakkale." With that, her eyes shut and she sagged in his arms, her soul whisked away by the powers of the Orichalcos.
It was then that the yami seized the moment, hammering away at the mental defenses of Marik's mind, to at last take control in one final effort, a one-man army besieging the fortress of the mind. While Marik may not have realized it, he had built defenses in the deepest darkest corners of his consciousness, a reflexive move if one thought about it. The yami had discovered these pathways in the formative years of Marik's life and had stashed away a "piece" of himself in these dark crannies of the subconscious. When he had been banished to the Shadow Realm, Duat, this small part remained. Of course, one could argue that the influence of these yami left indelible marks on the mind and could never be truly erased, but in this case, it was more than just a simple theory proposed by those who had been at the mercy of these darker spirits.
The small part would have remained for the rest of Marik's natural life span, only a shadow of its former self, the faint whispers in the darkest times of night.
Then the discovery of the Orichalcos and with that, his influence and power grew, until the yami decided it was time to take full control.
"You are mine!"
"No!"
The yami made the final effort, overtaking Marik's defenses, banishing the original host to the deep recesses of his mind. Marik screamed, in agony, hands clawing at his hair and face, a desperate and vain effort to fight back.
"Marik!" Odion ran to the young man, but a dark force blasted him back, a power a repulsive as the Orichalcos itself. "No! Fight it! Fight it with all your heart and soul! You can do it!" He was suddenly blinded by the darkness as it surrounded the playing field. This was not the power of the Orichalcos, Odion knew for certain, as little as he understood the powers of the Seal. No, this was magic that the older man knew for years, even took a part of in his younger days. He could not wield it with the ease of his siblings, natural born heirs of the Items, but he knew intimately what it was.
The Shadow Realm.
Yami Marik was back.
Marik sagged forward, hovering over Tshilaba's fallen body, hair obscuring his face in a platinum curtain, a wild mane. One hand reached for Tshilaba's duel disk, clicking a single slot open. He slipped the card out, placing it in his own deck. He stood upright, his hair like a jagged crown formed from the darkness. The lavender hued eyes were lit with madness, tinged by a veil of red. There was no Eye of Horus branded upon his forehead, but something else: a six pronged star, held within the confines of a seal. The Orichalcos insignia. He turned to Odion, eying the man with a peculiar look, a man displeased with Odion's presence.
"Hello Odion."
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Aaron cursed to himself as the rifle he held fired its last shot. He did not see any extra ammunition on or around the desk where he obtained it, and there were still two men in the other room, firing on him. With relative ease he had dispatched the first four, but in the chaos, he had lost track of the rounds used. Thankfully, with only two left in the other room, the rate of fire lulled considerably. With a growl, he tossed the rifle aside, reaching for the handgun. A bullet whizzed by in the upper confines of the window, shattering the panes further, to the point where Aaron was surrounded by glass shards. He had never been more grateful for the thick boots he wore, lest he cut his feet up.
So, plan "B".
He went for his side arm, the Beretta he owned. The handgun was efficient and accurate in its firing, which was why Aaron treasured it so much. A gift from an American agent he had worked with many years ago. He placed a round in the chamber and went to the door, standing behind it. One hand went to the doorknob, the other still holding the gun. The door was unlocked. He twisted the knob sharply and kicked the door open, the hand now holding the gun.
It was clear that the mercenaries were taken off guard by Aaron's sudden move, even more so when he shouted, "I'm here to kick tuckus and chew bubble gum. Unfortunately for you, I don't chew bubble gum." He raised the gun up the same time as the two men.
Thankfully, Aaron was faster on the draw.
The retired Mossad fired off two rounds, one for each man, the bullet going in the center of their chests, center mass, one would call it. Both dropped without even thinking of firing a shot. Their guns clattered to the floor, blood pooling. Aaron knelt to each of them, one hand still holding the Beretta as he checked their pulses. Both were dead.
As Aaron got up, he told the fresh corpses. "Now normally I wouldn't say "tuckus" to such scumbags like you, because that seems a little childish; however, there is a young lady in the building and I wish to be a gentlemen." Aaron quickly scanned his surroundings, in hopes of finding a secret room or passage that would lead to Sivya. The only thing he found was the door leading—presumably—to the next room. He knelt to the door, jiggling the lock, testing it. It too, was unlocked. "Wow, they have very poor security here," he thought to himself, placing an ear to the door, in hopes of discerning what was on the other side. He didn't want to charge in there, not knowing.
It was quiet for a moment or two, but then he heard a sob, a feminine sob. Now, unless they had female mercenaries working for them—which was probably unlikely, in spite of Tshilaba—it had to be Sivya on the other side.
"I said shut up!" Aaron heard someone threaten. Now Sivya had to be on the other side. He took a deep breath to calm himself before charging in; the last thing he wanted to to harm Sivya in anyway.
"It seems kind of quiet in there," Aaron heard another voice say, this one deeper and scratchier than the first. "Do you think they got him?" He must have been referring to Aaron.
"Maybe."
"Time for me to go." Aaron told himself. There were at least two men in the room with Sivya, nobody else, from what he could hear. People were quite loud without realizing it, giving away telltale signs of their presence without realizing it. Aaron went to the knob and like before, gave it a sharp twist before kicking it in.
What he didn't expect to find was Sivya being held hostage, a gun to the temple of her head. Her captor, a burly man with a South African accent and blond hair yanked the gun away only to point it at Aaron.
"Drop your weapon, or she gets it!" To make his point he jabbed the barrel of the gun at her head. She was frozen in place, eyes wide. Her hands were not bound, something Aaron found odd. "I said drop it!" He screamed. The other man, one of Turkish descent, brandished an AK-47, clearly used before.
"Alright, alright, just put the gun down, and nobody gets hurt," Aaron soothed holding his Beretta high in the air. "Just let her go and we can all walk away from this alive, okay?"
"I ain't letting her go," the South African growled, jerking her closer to him. "Drop your weapon and maybe I'll let you live. You're outnumbered two to one."
"Clearly," Aaron remarked.
"Drop it!"
Aaron's hand hovered for an instant a moment's hesitation. "Okay, I'll drop it." He began to crouch and set the handgun on the concrete floor.
The man jerked the barrel of the gun to the other man. "Take his weapon," he barked. As the Turkish man stepped forward to take Aaron's weapon, chaos broke loose.
When the man had removed the gun from her, Sivya took the opportunity, wriggling loose with an impetus of strength, spinning about. She stepped down hard on his foot and pinning it down. As he stepped back, trying to get loose, she slugged the man full in the jaw and mouth releasing her footstep. He staggered back, one hand flying to his face. Teeth had been knocked loose and his lip was beginning to swell. He still had the gun in his other hand. He raised it up to shoot, not caring about the consequences he would receive for breaking Tabitha's orders.
"You little. . ." he snarled, readying to shoot her.
At the same time, Aaron dipped down, snatching the gun up and he went into a combat roll towards the door. He raised the Beretta up and fired once, twice, into the chest of the South African. Then, he turned to the Turkish man and fired a third time. In the small space the gunshots seemed particularly loud, ringing harshly off the walls Both men dropped in an instant. The ordeal over, he flipped the safety switch off and sheathed it back into the holster under the shirt. He went to Sivya, placing a comforting hand on her shoulders, She was still frozen in place, her chest heaving as the adrenaline rush receded.
"That, was a wallop of a right hook." Aaron whistled admiringly. He then spun her about to face him. "Sivya, are you alright?"
Her face set, she nodded, her lips in a tight line. Then, as the river breaks the dam, she flung herself at him, sobbing in his chest. He was taken by surprise by the sudden move, but reached around, hugging her. "Shhhh, it's okay Sivya. You're okay now, I promise. Nobody's going to get you here, not while I'm here." She sobbed for a few minutes more, until she could cry no more tears. She looked up at him.
"Promise?"
"I swear. They didn't hurt you, did they? Did they touch you, because if they did, lucky for them I can't bring them back from the dead and shot them a second time."
She shook her head. "No, they didn't hurt me. They tied me to a chair and gagged me, but they didn't do anything else."
Aaron breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Now, let's get you back to Marik and Odion. Marik was worried about you." He stopped, remembering the flute. "Wait, here." He fished in the pocket, pulling the rhaita out and he handed it to her. "I think this is yours." She held the flute tightly to her chest, grateful.
"Thank you." she paused. "How did you find me?"
Aaron decided then that it was the opportunity to embellish Marik's role in the tale, just to "speed things along". I didn't find you, Marik did. He used his magic to find you. If he hadn't been dealing with Tabitha or whatever he name is, he would have come here. He was about the tear the city apart to find you."
She flushed. "He was?"
"Cross my heart, hope to die," He made an "X" over his heart and she giggled, if haltingly. Good. Hopefully she wouldn't have horrible dreams tonight. She didn't deserve them. "Let's get you back to them, okay?"
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The yami glowered at Odion as he watched them cautiously. "I never would have thought I would get to meet you face to face, considering all the other times." He shrugged at this.
Odion raised his disk. "You aren't supposed to be here," Odion growled. "You aren't supposed to exist. You were banished to the Shadow Realm."
"And yet, here I am."
"So then I must eliminate you, to bring Marik back, the real Marik back."
"You can certainly try. I'm staying right where I'm at."
"You can fight this Marik!" Odion told the yami, much to his displeasure. "You can banish him for good! You did it once, you can do it once more!"
"He can't hear you, Odion." the yami laughed. "I made sure of that."
"Yes I can, you little prick." Marik, the good one, shouted from the confines of his mental prison.
He ignored him and turned his attention outward to Odion, who still had his duel disk raised. "I will fight you to my last breath yami and I will free Marik from the darkness that is the Seal! You hear me Marik! I'll free you!"
Growling deep in his throat, the yami went for his duel disk, the card he stole from Tshilaba in there, and activated it. "Then you too, shall follow the fate of Tshilaba! Duel!
"I go first," he continued, drawing the card. "I summon my Gil Garth in attack mode and place one card, face down and end my turn."
"Very well then," Odion drew his card. "I summon my Gravekeeper's Spear Soldier in attack mode and I activate my magic card, Temple of the Kings. " Gravekeeper's Spear Soldier was a man cloaked in black robes stamped with silver ankh's. In his hands he wielded a longspear with a broad leaf shaped spearhead. Behind the monster, a temple of Egyptian design rose from the earth, dominating the landscape. Pillars flanked Odion and the lonely Gravekeeper monster. "Then I place one card face down and end my turn."
The yami said nothing, drawing a single card. The uncanny silence disturbed Odion, until he started to laugh, long and loud, the pitch maniacal. "You may think your precious little temple may save you, but I know exactly what you're planning on doing, and I know exactly how to stop it. I place my trap card, Dust Tornado and destroy your Temple of the Kings!" As he spoke, a tornado, whipping up dust and debris swept through Odion's side of the field, obliterating the temple within a matter of moments, bricks and mortar flying. "And now I can place my own card, and I choose the Seal of Orichalcos!"
"No! No, don't do it!" Marik screamed, pounding on the walls that made his prison. It was like looking through a window, witnessing the duel take place. "Don't!" He sagged down, feeling as useless as ever, unable to prevent the activation. "Odion."
"I'm warning you spirit," Odion said, pointing, his voice like the imperial edict of a forgotten ruler. "You don't want to do this."
"But if I didn't, then why would I play the card?" The spirit slipped the card into the Field spell slot of the Disk, feeling the energies surge through him. Marik screamed in agony as the Seal was placed, the magic repellant against the very core of his being. It reminded him of black vines, wrapping tightly around his soul, his spirit, to squeeze the life force from him to fuel its own dark agenda. Was this was Tshilaba felt, he wondered. The agony of the Seal, the accursed stone that caused so much misery. If that was the case, then why did she seem to enjoy it, just like the other man, Gurimo? Was it the ecstasy in the agony? Or something else, like a drug being injected into one's veins. He clutched himself, hoping that Odion could find a way to end the spell and free him from his prison.
Odion watched as the Seal expanded, entrapping him in the magic circle. He was experienced in the ways of magic, witnessing his sister and brother practice for years, either in the open or illicitly, even if he could not—it was simply not in his heritage, despite the spells tattooed in his skin. He knew the inner workings of a magic circle, what comprised it and the various ways of constructing one; however, in spite of this, he had little idea where to begin with this one. It seemed to drain his energy, making him weaker the instant it encased him. The six pointed star was beyond him, no true magic used six in their workings; seven and three were the preferred numbers, for numerology's sake. And he had no idea what to make of the runes that ringed the barrier. They were in a language that he could not begin to comprehend. Many magic circles, included the two that Marik had created recently, had the infrastructure of the spell and circle written in the runes, like a "how to" manual. If one knew the words, one could turn it against the user and deconstruct the circle with relative ease, as one could dismantle an appliance.
When the Seal trapped them, Gil Garth, the yami's warrior monster, was branded with a miniature replica of the the Seal , increasing its attack points to 2300. "Now Gil Garth, attack Gravekeeper's Spear Soldier now!"
"Activate Book of Moon! I can choose one monster on your side of the field and flip it back to face down defense mode." Odion called out. Gil Garth stopped mid movement, sword outstretched, and hopped back to his respective side on the field, crouched. The spirit growled in frustration as Odion's monster was left untouched.
"Fine! I'll destroy him later, as well as every other monster you place on the field! Then, once I'm finished with them, I shall have your soul as well!"
"No, you won't!"
"Silence you little brat!" The yami sneered. Marik's protests were beginning to grow in strength and frequency. It would seem that he was rallying against him, but no matter; he would be the one in control in the end.
Meanwhile, Marik increased his assault, trying to break through and gain control once and for all. But there was a problem: Odion had ensnared himself in the Seal, and only one can walk away, unless they found a way to break the Seal before then. He shivered to himself: how could he be willing to wipe away the soul of his brother? Or of himself, should it come down to it, because he knew that his darker side will switch places, leave himself vulnerable to the power of the Orichalcos.
So then what?
He held his head in his hands, hair obscuring his features, as he looked on with weary eyes. He had to keep fighting, to save himself and his brother. He stood upright, now determined to do whatever it took to save Odion from the fate of the Seal.
Even if it meant losing his own soul in the process.
He would then have to give Sivya and Aaron his regards.
"I'm sorry, Sivya."
And now would be the time to grab tissues, because it's going to be a doozy. Seriously. Even I needed them at one point. :/