This Chapter Contains . . .

Violence: Explicit violence and death

Language: None

Drugs: None

Nudity: None

Sexual Content: None


Edit Update: 10/11/2015

Re-uploaded.


Marik felt a sharp pain in his shoulder - the same one that Bakura had almost dislocated - and rolled onto his back with a groan. His lavender eyes fluttered open and was met with a high ceiling that faded into blackness, chains dangling from it as they ever so slightly swayed back and forth, creating an ominous chorus of echoes. He used his elbows to right himself into a sitting position and examined the rest of the room. It resembled a dungeon. There were no windows, the only light coming from torches that hung on the walls; there was an iron barred door that was now a copper color from the rust that covered it; and across from him was Bakura, who was laying on his stomach, his eyes closed. When Marik saw the manacle around the white haired boy's wrist he looked at his own, which had been given the same treatment. A long chain connected their manacles together and the middle of the chain hung from a metal hoop that was screwed into the wall. He also noticed that, instead of the room being the typical square shape, their prison had three walls, with the metal hoop wedged between two walls at the point of the triangle and the door at the bottom of it.

"Bakura." Marik called out, but his cellmate didn't answer.

The Egyptian cursed and got to his feet with some effort before walking towards Bakura, the chain rattling behind him. When he reached him, Marik checked to see if he was still alive. The boy's back rose and fell with his steady breathing, telling him that he was. Strange. Most people look peaceful when they were asleep. But even in his current state, Bakura still looked dangerous; like a sleeping lion that you knew could wake up at any moment and attack. When Marik bent down to shake his shoulder, hoping to wake him up, Bakura's brown eyes flashed open before they targeted the tanned boy, the rest of his body remaining motionless, making Marik jolt backward, almost making him lose his balance.

Bakura must have found this amusing because he laughed as he pushed himself up and leaned his back against the wall before he looked at their surroundings. "I've woken up in worst places." He said with a smile.

"Do you know where were are?" Marik asked, sitting cross-legged on the cold floor.

"No idea." Bakura said with a shrug. "But I kind of like it here." He placed his hands behind the back of his head. "It's got a good atmosphere. A sort of charm."

Marik ignored him. "We can try to unlock the manacles first. If that doesn't work, we can work on that." He eyed the hoop in the wall.

"You do that." After placing one of his long legs over the other, Bakura closed his eyes and remained silent.

Marik didn't know if he should be relieved or ticked off. Sure, now he didn't have to listen to him rattling on, but he could at least try to help him escape. Didn't he care that they might end up spending the rest of their lives in here? Marik would rather put himself out of his misery than let that happen.

"Did you kill the Pharaoh?" Marik asked as he tried to find a weakness in his manacle. He found none.

"No, I'm afraid I didn't." He casually explained. "I was knocked out before I could. And now it looks like I won't be able to."

"You don't seem very concerned about it."

Bakura's eyelids lifted slightly. "I just know that trying to get out is pointless." He leaned forward and looked at his restrained wrist. "We would have more luck simply waiting for someone to come by."

Marik glared at him. "That isn't an option."

"It's our only option." His smile grew as he went back to his previous position. "If you want to waste what little energy you have left in trying to escape, please be my guest."

A smirk played on Marik's lips and his eyes became cruel. "Or maybe you don't want to leave." Bakura's smug grin faded as he continued. "Maybe you're hiding in shame because you failed to kill someone as weak as Yugi."

Bakura scowled. "I should kill you for that."

"I don't think you can."

Bakura's smile returned as he began to lift himself up, his fingers curled inward like claws. "I'll have fun trying."

The iron door began to creak open, making the two teenagers stop to look. They watched it as it sluggishly swung inward until it hit the wall with a soft clank, causing the entire room to fill with more echoes. At first they thought that the door had simply been unlocked the whole time, but then a figure with a large frame walked into the firelight. His face was almost completely covered with pieces of rough fabric that were sloppily sewn together, only exposing crazed eyes and crooked teeth; his hair was spiked up as if he had placed his finger in a light socket; he wore a tattered T-shirt and pants that were covered with filth; and with large hands he held up a chainsaw.

The disheveled man chuckled like a kid in a candy store. "I cud you ub!"


After his meeting with Kaiba, Yugi was taken away by two men that were wearing the same attire as the three who had tried to shoot him in Burger World and was thrown into a small room that was void of any furnishings before they slammed the door shut. after that, all was silent. Yugi sat in the middle of his prison as he tried to decide what to do next. Trying to open the door was probably pointless. There were no windows or other possible openings. He was trapped.

"Don't worry." His other self materialized in front of him, his arms crossed over his chest and a comforting smile on his face. "You will find a way out of this."

"Who are you?" Yugi asked.

"I'm not sure." His other self frowned thoughtfully. "One day I remember something about my past only for it to be gone the next. It's like my memories are pieces of a puzzle that are constantly being assembled and reassembled in my mind."

"What do you remember now?" The short boy asked, concern on his young face.

He closed his eyes in concentration. "I remember . . . a tree."

"A tree?"

As images of its branches swaying in the wind and a little girl giving him a broad grin flashed through his mind, Yugi's other self waved his hand dismissively. "It isn't important. Right now we have to get out of here."

"But how?"

Before he could answer, the door opened and his other self disappeared. Yugi stood up, hoping it was a friendly face, and Mokuba stepped inside. He was smiling and holding up a small platter that held a kid sized burger, which made Yugi think about his conversation with Marik. Where was Marik, anyway? Did he return to find that Yugi was missing? Was he out there looking for him? Marik's moment of insanity made Yugi hope that he didn't find him, even if it meant not being rescued.

"I was able to bring you some food." Mokuba said. "I hope you like it. It's one of my favorites."

Yugi grabbed the platter when it was handed to him. "Are you sure this is okay?"

The little boy placed his hands behind his head. "Just because you're our prisoner doesn't mean you should starve to death."

Yugi didn't like how he had said 'our prisoner' so casually but, "Thanks."

He bit into it and he could tell right away that it was a kid's meal. There was something about them that was different from regular food. Like something was missing or wrong with it. No, it wasn't the burger itself that was wrong.

Yugi grabbed at his throat. It was burning, as if he had just swallowed acid. When the poison reached his stomach, making white foam burst out of his mouth, he fell to his knees, his chest feeling like it was being compressed by a flaming hot iron while his entire body convulsed, causing him to lose his balance and collapse on his side.

Mokuba snickered. "You'll die in ten minutes if I don't give you the antidote." He pulled out a small glass vial with a cork sealing the top. Inside was a clear liquid. "I heard you tell my brother that you don't have any powers. If you really don't, my brother will look like a fool in front of his clients." As his smile grew, he shook the antidote's container, causing the substance to splash around inside. "Show me your powers and I'll give you the antidote. If you don't, you can just die."


"Cobe here." The man said as he swung his weapon at Marik, who was able to jump out of the way, causing the chain to pull on Bakura's arm, who stumbled backward.

"Stop that!" Bakura shouted before ducking in time to avoid having his head cut off.

The man laughed. "You can'd esgape Choppy!"

This was bad. Marik looked at the chain that bound him and Bakura together. It was fairly long, but it was still difficult to move around without causing the other to be pulled. And if one of them yanked too hard, it might cause the other to fall to the ground, giving the chainsaw wielding man an ideal opportunity to end their life. And there wasn't a lot of room for movement. The two walls made it cramped, and their attacker's broad shouldered body didn't help. Worst of all, he saw that they were being herded further and further towards where the two walls touched, where they would be trapped. They had to stop him before that happened.

"Bakura!" Marik shouted, pointing at the hoop. "Stand over there to give me enough slack so that I can get behind him!"

"No one gives me orders!" The murderous glint in his eye was brighter than the chainsaw man's.

"It's the only way to get out of this!" Marik avoided another blow.

"Choppy wod led you do dat!" The man raised the chainsaw over his head and tried to slice Marik in half.

The tanned boy dodged it, landing a few inches away from the hoop. The man loomed over him, giving Marik no room to avoid his strikes. This was it. He was going to die in here, chopped up into unrecognizable pieces by a lunatic.

After a few wheezy chuckles, Choppy once again pointed the blade into the air, as if he were about to chop up firewood, while he gave Marik a childish smile, exposing his yellowing teeth. However, before he could make the fatal strike, a pair of pale arms wrapped around his neck. The man stumbled and was about to swing the chainsaw into whoever was clinging onto him, but his attacker was quicker. Fingers plunged into one of the man's eye sockets, making Choppy yowl in pain before his eyeball was ripped out of his head. Again the man positioned his weapon to cut into them. With great force he brought it down on them. But they had let go, letting the blade slice into the man's own back.

The roar of the motor from the chainsaw competed with the man's screams as blood flew from his body, sending great waves of red liquid sailing across the room. Giant spatters hit the walls, as if he were unwillingly painting them. He spun around, the chainsaw still grinding into his flesh, and more blood sprayed from him and landed on Marik, some of it going into his mouth. As he tried to spit it out, the metallic flavor refusing to leave, the man finally stopped screaming and stood like a frightening statue before he dropped the chainsaw and fell to his knees, his thick arms resting limply at his sides. His breathing was even more ragged than before and his remaining eye was unfocused as whatever blood was left in him poured out of his open wound. If the man had been facing away from Marik, the blood covered boy would have seen that his spine was exposed, chucks of it chipped off from the merciless blades.

Bakura, whose brown eyes were the only thing that weren't bathed in blood, slowly walked towards the dying man and stood in front of him. At first he just watched him, as if he were patiently waiting for the man's soul to leave his body, and then without warning, he dug his fingernails into the man's throat and began ripping it open. His victim made gargling noises as Bakura tore open a gaping hole. When it was big enough, Bakura reached inside and grabbed the man's windpipe, tearing it out. Bakura smiled and kicked the body over, which landed in the crimson puddle, before he turned to Marik, the windpipe still in his hand. It made a squelching noise as he squeezed it.

"It looks like your plan worked." Bakura said with a smirk. "You deserve a medal."

He tossed the windpipe to Marik, who let it land in front of his feet, and then Bakura lustily placed his tongue on his forearm and let it slide past his wrist and to his fingers before be began sucking the liquid off of them. As he did, Marik bent over and threw up.


"Use your power!" Mokuba demanded, growing impatient.

Yugi could barely hear him through his throbbing head and the sound of his own ragged breathing. His hand occasionally twitched of its own accord and he felt like his organs were screaming out in pain. If he did in fact have some kind of awesome power, it wasn't stopping his insides from melting. And even if it could, he didn't even have the strength to use it. Mokuba must of realized this because he kicked Yugi's side in frustration.

"You're useless!" He shouted before holding the vial over his head, probably intending to throw it to the ground and shatter it. But someone grabbed it and yanked antidote out of his grasp. "What the-?!" Mokuba turned around and stood face-to-face with Ishizu. "How did you get past our security?"

Ishizu looked down at the little boy with a straight poker face and admonished, "You will step aside and let me save the Pharaoh."

The little boy gave her a crooked grin before reaching into his pants pocket, pulling out a stun gun. "If you don't leave right now I'll-!"

With a swift kick, the handheld weapon flew from his hand and hit the wall before crashing onto the ground. Mokuba stood there, too stunned to move, until Ishizu loomed over him, her shadow plunging him into darkness. He trembled before running out of the room, shouting all the while about how he was going to tell his older brother, who would have his revenge for treating his precious family member in such a rough manner. Knowing that there wasn't much time left, Ishizu popped off the cork before kneeling down, holding up Yugi's head as she poured the water-like liquid into his mouth.

He blinked up at her. "W-who-?" He couldn't get the rest of the words out. His throat felt like it had been scraped with sandpaper.

"Don't speak, my Pharaoh." She told him. "Just rest. And once you feel up to it, we will leave this place."


"Are you done yet?" Bakura asked impassively as Marik wiped his chin with the sleeve of his school uniform. "If you are, you can help me search him. He might have the key that unlocks these." He grabbed the chain in both hands, making it slack and then taut for emphasis.

"I doubt he has them." Marik said, coughing when he heard how hoarse his voice was.

Bakura crossed his arms. "Than what do you suggest?"

"I don't know . . ." Marik answered, his eyes downcast.

After letting out a strange cross between a snort and a groan, Bakura scanned the room and looked at the chainsaw, which had turned off when it fell, a smile spreading across his blood soaked face. "Maybe if I cut off your arm."

They both looked at each other and then at the weapon before lunging for it, landing flat on their stomachs and reaching out with their free hands. But the chain cut them short, their bloody fingertips only grazing it. Marik wished he had his Millennium Rod, which must have been taken from him before they put the two of them in here. He needed to get it back. Not only as a tool to cut off Bakura's limb, but also to prevent his Past Life from taking hold of him. He was quite surprised that it hadn't happened already. This would be the perfect opportunity to do it. What was his past self waiting for? Maybe he wanted Marik to unchain himself first, so he wouldn't have to do the work himself. Marik could only guess.

Bakura made a growling noise in the back of his throat. "Of all the people to be stuck with, it had to be you."

There was a long silence before Marik spoke. "Why did you do it?"

"Do what?" Bakura asked while rolling his brown eyes.

Marik looked at the dead man, who was only inches away from Bakura. "He was practically dead. Why did you do that?"

"Why did I rip out his throat?" He asked with a chuckle that made Marik shiver. "I've always wanted to try it. I just saw it as the perfect opportunity. Although I must say, I was expecting . . . more."

Marik wondered if the white haired boy's thirst for blood was anything like what he had felt when he imagined Yugi being tortured in horrific ways. No. Bakura seemed to love the thrill of killing and being responsible for cutting his victim's life short, while his Past Life enjoyed making people suffer; watching them squirm and beg for it all to end. The memory made Marik lick his lips.

"Does your offer still stand?" Bakura asked.

"What?"

He looked at Marik, placing his chin in his hand. "If we get out of this mess, you'll let me kill the Pharaoh?"

Marik smiled slightly. "You would kill him whether I let you or not."

Bakura laughed, and for a moment Marik forgot that they were laying in a pool of blood with a corpse. That they both wanted to murder their classmate. That they may stay trapped down here as they slowly died from dehydration and starvation. But only for a moment. And then reality sunk back in.

"We could die down here." Marik said as he stared at his hands, wishing he could wash the blood off of them.

Bakura shrugged. "There are worse places to die."

"Because this place has a good atmosphere." Marik said, which made Bakura let out a small chuckle, before crossing his arms and resting his head on them. "There aren't many who would laugh in the face of death the way you do."

"When you've seen as much death as I have, you can't help but find the humor in it."

"You think that death is funny?"

"Of course." His smile widened. "Think about it. People go about their daily lives, pretending that nothing could ever happen to them. They pretend they're immortal until a knife is in their chest." Bakura laughed. "It's hilarious."

"Does that mean you'll kill me when you get bored?"

"No, you're much more amusing alive."

This took Marik aback and it took him a moment to ask, "Why is that?"

"Because you're already dead. Metaphorically, I mean." He quickly explained when he saw the confused look on Marik's face. "You don't pretend like everyone else. You seem to have accepted the fact that you will die someday and you embrace it. It makes you seem lifeless in a way, if that makes sense."

"Not really."

"That's why I much prefer talking to corpses. They don't need things explained to them."