Propositional Calculus – the branch of symbolic logic that uses symbols for unanalyzed propositions and logical connectives only. (Merriam Webster's Collegiate Dictionary)
Propositional Calculus
"If one is to be called a liar, one may as well make an effort to deserve the name."
A. A. Milne
"Hey, those brats are getting away!" The guard yelled as he twisted and turned against the energy chains that bound him.
"I can see that, moron," his companion replied, giving one last ditch effort to struggle. The chains slackened and then broke off of him and then the other guard.
Grabbing his phone, the first guard acted quickly and called Croquet. "A-squad here. We need back-up!"
His partner looked off into the distance, barely being able to make out the shapes of two teenagers running and making a left at the end of the hall. He started after them, leaving the other man to finish the phone call and follow him when he was done.
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Tristan followed the hazy silhouette of Bakura. He would shift Mokuba every now and then, but for the most part he tried to keep the silver-haired boy in his line of vision—which wasn't easy, given the many twists and turns in their path.
"Hey Ryou…er…whoever you are! What was it...you did back there? Using that magic card...only for real!" Tristan had enough sense to know that who he was dealing with couldn't possibly be Ryou…could it?
The other boy turned his head back and flippantly replied, "Not now. Those guards are still behind us!"
Tristan sprinted ahead for a moment to look at him. The two came to a stop by a door. Maybe this would lead to a way out. Or more guards. He really hated his string of luck lately.
"Okay. But something's up with you and you're going to tell me what," Tristan panted, reaching for the door handle only to hear the tell-tale clack noise, signaling that it was locked. "It's a no-go. This door's locked."
Bakura snarled at the door. Tristan raised an eyebrow and the silver-haired boy replied with a smirk. They took off running again. The guards couldn't be too far behind them now.
Tristan took the lead. How, he wasn't sure, and the thought of whoever or whatever had possessed Ryou running along behind him made him a bit uneasy. He climbed staircase after staircase, assuming that they had found their way into one of the many towers. He saw another door at the top of the flight he was on and let out an extra spurt of energy to get up the stairs.
"Look," He yelled grabbing the handle and wrenching it open. "A way out—Whoa!"
Bakura didn't have time to really think about the morality of what he was doing. All his mind registered was the bare minimum needed to make a decision. Tristan was falling over a ledge. He was going to fall about seven stories and take Mokuba Kaiba with him. Decision: Not good, fix it.
Bakura reached out with a reflex that had been honed from years of pick-pocketing, and the thought of lifting Tristan's wallet crossed the thief's mind, but he ignored it for the time being. Wrenching the brunette back in, he raised an eyebrow at the other's flushed appearance as Tristan stumbled backwards.
Tristan fixed his trench coat while letting his breath come back under control.
"Whoa! I owe you one, Ryou," Tristan said, breathing heavily. "Well, seeing as how jumping's outta the question, I'd say we're as good as caught."
Bakura wasn't really listening. The guards had come up onto the landing just below them. He glared downwards with clenched fists. It couldn't end this way, but they were really beginning to run out of options. Damn.
"Well, we tried." Tristan sighed, but knitted his brow in thought. There had to be a way…
"What do you mean, 'we tried'?" Bakura said, turning to regard the brunette. He was beginning to enjoy his company. He could keep up with him, and though he was willing to give up, Bakura had a feeling that there was some other motivation. "We are not captured just yet!"
"What're ya talking about? We're totally out-manned." Tristan said, raising an eyebrow and shifting the weight of the other body again. Mokuba was getting heavy.
"We won't be after I enlist some help from the Shadow Realm." Bakura reached for the deck in his pocket.
An alarm bell went off somewhere in Tristan's head. Where had he heard this term used before? He couldn't remember, but he knew it was right there on the edge of his subconscious.
"Huh? The Shadow Realm?" The name itself implied bad things. "This can't be good."
"Give it up, kiddies. It's over for you."
Bakura glowered down the stairs. "You ignorant mortals! It's far from over; we have barely even begun to play. And I'll show you the cards Fate has dealt you."
"Come on and try us, you little freak," the other guard snickered up the stairway.
Bakura grinned, and felt the blood rush through his veins. Now the hunt was really on, and in a much more satisfactory way. Teaching these idiots a lesson might do away with some of his more violent tendencies, lest he take them out on the unsuspecting brunette.
"Now I'll teach you the true meaning of fear, as I summon the Man-Eater Bug with the power of my Millennium Ring!" Bakura couldn't help but add the flamboyant touch. The more he told these fools, the weaker he made them sound by letting them know they offered no threat.
Tristan's eyes widened and he felt a small sheen of sweat creep out on his skin. The voice; the Ryou look-alike hadn't even bothered to mask it. This wasn't Ryou, but where had he heard this voice before. "What's going on?"
A light appeared and a Man-Eater Bug stepped out into existence. It was huge, it smelled, and worst of all, Tristan realized dimly—it was real. The bug roared and stalked closer on the landing towards the guards.
"Oh no! He brought the monster on the card to life! And he's going to sic it on us," one guard squeaked out pathetically
Tristan swallowed and looked at Bakura who in turn smiled down at the guards like I child would smile at a very large bug that it was about to squash. "Now you mortal fools, prepare to meet your doom."
Almost as though his words had signaled it to move, the Man-Eater Bug moved forward and that guards shuffled and looked rather frightened. The bug swiped at one of them, who in turn screamed.
Bakura smiled. "Present-day humans are so fun to terrorize, don't you think?" he said, looking over his shoulder at the brunette.
"No, I don't. But then again, I am a present-day human. What the heck are you?" Tristan demanded, feeling uneasy. Sure he didn't like the guards, and sure they were going to die, and sure he had no problem with that, but what kept this 'Dark Ryou' from doing the same to him?
Bakura threw a sidelong glance at Tristan and drew a Morphing Jar from his deck. "Hmph. Me? Someone with great power. Soon to be even greater. But I can't spend the day having fun, I have things to do." Bakura smiled again and threw the card out, calling energy into it. "So I'll summon the Morphing Jar to this plane and put an end to their pathetic whining!"
There was a flash, a bit more screaming, a sound like a toilet unclogging itself, and then silence.
"The Jar's magic has sent those ridiculous thugs to the Graveyard," The spirit stated smugly.
Tristan, for the hundredth time, swallowed thickly. This 'being' or whatever, had power. He walked down the stairs and looked around, amazed. The power to dispatch enemies like that, without thought or consideration, was appealing, but at the same time forced Tristan to realize the immensity of just what he was dealing with.
Bakura crossed his arms, unable to explain his odd need to impress the brunette on the lower landing. "As you can see, there's not a single particle of those pathetic fools left in this dimension. I have no patience for obstacles that get in my way--remember that," he said and walked down the steps, but stopping three from the bottom. He enjoyed the slight height advantage over the very tall boy.
Tristan jerked around at the sound of the spirits voice, having forgotten he was there when he got lost in his thoughts. He glared at the other boy. "I don't know how you did that, and I probably don't wanna know. Just tell me who you are. What you want. I know you're not really our friend Ryou."
Bakura smirked and Tristan's eyes widened in a moment. That smirk. That over-confident smirk. He had seen it before. He remembered.
"You're the one Yugi beat," Tristan stated with a slight awe to his voice. "He banished you to the graveyard, and in the process he freed Ryou from your mind control."
"Yes, but that wouldn't have happened if my other hadn't betrayed me," Bakura stated simply, and continued to the landing, feeling that he no longer needed those few extra inches. "I've come to the conclusion that my other is weak, and I've decided I need a new host."
Bakura was hit with a strong emotion of worry from his other.
You do?
Quiet. I will if you don't stop sniveling.
Ryou's mind seemed to settle at this harsh remark, considering it and its normalcy to be a good sign. He quieted and Bakura felt a connection made inside, which let him know that Ryou was now watching.
Tristan jumped to the first conclusion he could think of. "You won't take me without a fight."
"Oh won't I? Ha, well, that is completely beside the point. I always get what I want. And besides I don't want your body, per say." The spirit paused and raised an eyebrow. "I want a vessel without a mind or soul of its own."
A light bulb went on somewhere. "You want Mokuba!"
"Indeed, now turn him over, or face the same fate as those guards," Bakura said, and watched with slight satisfaction as a fog of darkness seemed to work it's way both down the steps from the tower and up the stairs from the ground floor towards them. Tristan looked around. There had to be a way out of this. A way that included him being able to save not only himself and Mokuba, but Ryou as well.
"So what will it be, mortal? Are you going to hand over Mokuba willingly, or do I have to conjure something to consume your soul?"
Tristan shook his head. "Forget it. No way. You're not taking any of us without a fight."
"You know I have the power to back up my threats," Bakura stated, letting his eyes fall to half-mast. His gaze wandered over the brunette's body for the second time that day. He was appealing to look at.
Tristan shifted and swung Mokuba's body around until he was cradling it to his chest. He looked at him and bit his lip. He couldn't take on a spirit. Especially one like this, with an internal hostage and an entire dimension behind him. He couldn't let Mokuba or Ryou fall into this spirit's hands. This was his responsibility, and come hell or psychotic spirits, he was going to do what he had to do.
Bakura felt the urge to reach out and touch the other boy. He quelled it and settled for a provocative stare, tilting his chin just so as to give him that look of superiority and confidence. "Hand him over this instant, or I will dispatch you to the Graveyard."
Tristan had to think fast. "Yeah, I remember," he said, gesturing as best he could with his chin to the other's chest. "Your evil power comes from that, the Millennium Ring."
Bakura couldn't help the smile that came across his face. His power was rather awe-inspiring, he had to admit. And explaining its intricacies was something he enjoyed doing.
"That's right. The Ring not only allows me to control my other, Ryou; it gives me many other magical abilities as well," he said, extending his hand and raising an eyebrow. "So unless you want a more personal demonstration of my power, you'll stop resisting me. Since you know any attempt will be pointless...why sacrifice yourself when you know I'll still wind up in possession of him in the end?
A more personal demonstration? Ryou may have seemed innocent, but even he could pick up double-entendre when he had to. He was a teenage boy.
Quiet…
Tristan lifted his gaze to meet the hard one of the spirit's. Somehow he had been able to catch a fading thought of something besides the literal meaning. The spirit wasn't just talking about Mokuba anymore. He was talking about Ryou. Suddenly an image passed through his mind. Since Ryou's arrival at Domino High, Tristan had made a bit of a subconscious effort to keep a bit of a watch over him. Sort of like a big brother type deal, or so he had thought.
Days would pass and he would glimpse a bruise in the locker room, a busted lip at lunch. He'd just thought that it was bullies, but upon following Ryou home one day, he found that he made him home rather safely. That protection had grown into a bit of a crush, much to Tristan's horror. Maybe it was that Ryou acted so female, or maybe it was the hair, whatever the reason, Tristan had a bit of a problem.
He took a step backward and unconsciously wished he could somehow pull Ryou with him like he had Mokuba. He was having a hard time at the moment. What with realizing that he had two other people's lives on his hands, knowing of his slight crush on one of them since the beginning of the semester, and the thought of being thrown into an alternate plane of existence all heavily weighing on his mind; he was hard pressed for a solution. A brief thought flashed through his mind.
It was going to be a long afternoon.
To Be Continued…
