Chapter Three: Arvad
Kaiba0302: Okay. Chapter three. The main villain guy of this fic, Arvad, makes his appearance. Simply, he's a real bad-ass who has some interesting secrets...By the way, are any of you planning on reviewing?
~~((~~
Marik opened his eyes to a world of darkness and pain. Groaning, he closed them again, but it only served to intensify the pain. Slowly he forced them open again and allowed them to wander down his form. His entire body screamed in agony. Several large bruises had formed on his chest and sides, marring the perfect shade of gold with purple and black. Two long cuts extended the length of his torso on either side and stopped just above the waistband of his pants. Well, that was one less thing to worry about... Viciously biting back another moan of pain, he struggled onto his side. It was then that he realized that there was a shackle on one of his ankles, chaining him firmly to a wall. Marik attempted to sit up, sending his nerves into convulsions of agony. With a start and rising fear he realized that he was almost completely unable to move. He realized that he had been drugged. He looked about at his surroundings from his position on the floor. He appeared to be in a cell of some sort. The walls were old oven-baked bricks, stacked evenly and overlaid with plaster. He would never be able to break through. He managed to turn his head, pressin ghis face against the ground, when it came against the flesh of his right eye. Pain exploded in his head. He reeled for a moment before gingerly turning away from the offensive surface. A black eye had formed. Great. Just great.
Suddenly he felt something cold and wet being pressed against his shoulder. With a snarl he convulsed against the burning cold, and suddenly found himself thrown backwards onto the floor of the cell with three football player-sized men on top of him, holding him down. "You shouldn't scorn pity that is the gift of a gentle heart," A voice from somewhere above said to him. Marik snapped viciously at a hand that was positioned conveniently close to his mouth, sharp teeth closing on the palm of one of his captors. There was a scream of pain as he tore into the offending hand, foreign blood filling his mouth and gushing down his heaving throat. The hand was ripped away, leaving behind a bloody strip of flesh hanging from between Marik's teeth. The mutilated hand was raised to strike--
There was a sickening thud and a fresh howl of pain from the owner of the ruined appendige as am intricately carved knife whirred through the air and impaled it against one of the walls. A surprisingly calm male voice said, "That's enough," and Marik recognized it as the one who had spoken moments before. The newcomer entered the cell with the air of a king, walking fluidly to the panting bleeding man still nailed to the wall, and with surprising strength, wrenched the knife from the hand of his servant. Ignoring the shriek of pain that resounded, he turned and looked at the two fit men. His eyes were cold. "Leave us." The two servants nodded and, lifting their still screaming companion, left the room.
The stranger walked to Marik and knelt beside him. "Now then..." Marik was suddenly terrified almost to the point of insanity. What did this man want? Money? It didn't matter. He didn't have any on him, and his apartment would have surely been plundered. And if he wanted ransom, there wasn't anyone to pay it. The stranger saw the fear in Marik's eyes and laughed, though the humor did not reach his own eyes, which remained cold and calculating. "Come now, don't tell me that you don't remember me?"
Marik was puzzled. He looked up into the venomous green eyes, whose shape matched his own. Long, thick, white hair framed the man's dark angular face and spilled over his shoulders, layered and ending in small points. No, he did not recognize this person at all.
"My name is Arvad. Does that not ring a bell?"
Marik thought, though his mind was still numb from the paralyzing drug. Arvad...yes. Why was that name familiar to him? Why...His eyes widened. No, it was impossible. Only the unimaginable...
Arvad chuckled low in his throat. "You always were rash, my brother," he said, leaning back to look at Marik, "You act long before you think. The pharaoh Yami is not dim-witted."
Marik stared up at his brother, still unbelieving. "How is this possible? How did you survive? You..." He shook his head in disbelief, as if the image of his long lost brother were just a mirage. "You were exiled!"
Arvad closed his eyes and put his head back. The black tank that he wore couldn't hide his muscular build, falling several inches short of the hem of his tight low slung jeans, showing off a dark, firm lower stomach. A leather choker with a small silver square set in the front circled his neck. A black leather belt crossed his hips at an angle, a holster positioned on one side. The butt of a pistol protruded forbiddingly. He smiled grimly. "It is true that I was exiled, in the hopes that what the oracle told our father was true:
"The second-born shall bring glory,
As mid-day brings forth heat and well-being.
But as the sun dies in the west,
The last-born shall bring the downfall of the family."
Arvad lowered his head, hiding his eyes with his long white hair. "You, my brother, were the second born, supposedly the one to bring glory to the family. It was obvious that I would be the last, being as our mother was becoming too old to birth children." Arved smirked. "And aside from the fact that she died giving birth to me."
Marik tensed.
Arvad continued. "So you see my brother, that you were rash in your attempts to obtain the pharaohnic power? Glory was not won, nor is it easily won. As the chosen one, the Pharaoh's Will was engraved onto your back by our father, as I'm sure you very well know." Arvad's eyes glittered. "But I...I, being exiled, was unable to discover the secrets to claiming the pharaoh's power. All I need from you is a bit of cooperation."
"You will get no such thing from me!" Marik snarled. He could feel his anger rising. Suddenly his mind was flooded with memories of his brother; innocent and pure as morning sunlight, and he wondered briefly, 'Arvad, what has happened to you?'
Arvad smirked again. "I see you wonder about how I survived?"
"I don't care!"
Arvad continued as if he hadn't heard. "As you know, one who is exiled is simply disowned by the family and left to wander the endless seas of sand, reeling with blind hunger and thirst, before finally lying down and succumbing to the darkness. I managed to find my way to an oasis where I stayed for what seemed like weeks." Arvad paused. "Some time later, a small company of rogue warriors passed through. And found me. My appearance was new to them; they were especially enthralled by my white hair." Arvad closed his eyes and smiled, as if reliving some long forgotten bitter-sweet memory. "Thinking that I was some sort of god in disguise, they took me under their wings. I taught them to make better weapons, and about herbal remedies. In return..." Arvad opened his eyes and gazed piercingly into Marik's. "They taught me to kill."
Marik was silent.
Arvad's eyes clouded as he seemingly gazed into nothing. "I still have a chance, brother," he turned back to Marik, "To earn honor for our family name. I will myself claim Yami's pharaohnic power, and the Ishtar name will once again be renowned!"
Marik's lip curled. "How exactly do you plan on achieving all of this, dear brother?" A biting undertone of sarcasm laced his voice.
Arvad looked into his eyes. "With a little cooperation from you," he said softly, eyes glinting.
Marik shuddered.
*****
Arvad strode swiftly from the cell, ignoring his brother's fresh groans of pain. He had left him after forcefully making him submit to having his back deciphered. He walked down a corridor then turned left into another, this one lined on either side with doors which opened so many more options. It would be easy to get lost in here. Arvad smirked. he knew his way around very well. He entered a large room, lit with numerous torches placed at regular intervals on the walls. All of the lightbulbs had burned out or been broken. Boxes, old and new, cardboard and metal, littered the concrete floor. On the far side of the room, towering electric doors stood forbiddingly, pullies and ropes attached to each like some bizarre type of IV tubes.
A male voice called out to him from the shadows. "Master Arvad?"
Arvad chuckled softly. "I see you there, Ogano. Speak!"
The shadowed figure emerged from the darkest recesses of the room, allowing light to fall upon him. Ogano's face was young, umarred by scars or age. His black robes concealed a tall, lean, well-built figure. Deep sea-foam grey eyes glittered under a small band of gold resting at his temples. The Eye of Horus peered out from the center of his forehead, gleaming silver. He was Arvad's most cunning, and deadly, servant. "I am assuming that everything was achieved?"
"Yes, everything went according to plan," Arvad replied shortly. He was in no mood for idle bantering. Subduing Marik physically had been difficult. Even after the necessary precautions with paralyzing drugs, Marik was still as swift as a snake. And just as enchanting as one. But his poison was subtle. He would weave back and forth, thread one's mind with the drugging effects of intrigue and mystery, before striking cold-heartedly, over and over and over...
Ogano nodded respectfully. "That is good. You are very...persuasive..." They both chuckled as if sharing an inside joke. Ogano spoke again. "Do you still plan on making a move for Shadi?"
Arvad nodded stiffly. His eyes narrowed at the thought of the solemn-eyed protector of the Items. "Yes. He is still an essential part of my plans."
"And when might you plan on doing so?"
"In my own time, Ogano!"
"Of course, Master..." Ogano bowed low in apology. "But do you plan on doing this yourself?"
Arvad thought deeply. "Yes," he said a moment later. "Can't have you taking all the fun, can we?"
Ogano chuckled grimly. "No we can't."
Arvad smirked. "You are always able to tell me exactly what I want to hear, my servant." His eyes glinted like moonlight off a blade, the deadly light passing lightly over Ogano's features.
Ogano tensed but forced himself to relax. For Arvad to see a sign of weakness or fear would be like giving a mouse a cookie. 'If you give a mouse a cookie, he'll want a glass of milk,' he thought grimly. "Master...what shall we do about Marik?"
Arvad gazed at him, eyes searching. "Keep him here. We can't let him get away. He might alert Yami, or Shadi, as to our movements." Arvad's eyes narrowed. "Am I correct in saying that your loyalties lie with me, Ogano, and no longer with Marik?"
Ogano lowered his eyes. "Yes, Master Arvad," he said softly.
Arvad's lip curled. "Good. Keep it that way. You are mine now." With that he Turned briskly and strode forth from the room. Ogano watched him go, mixed feelings churning in his mind. Old loyalties wakened with a flame. He knew in his heart that the sun had gone down on both Arvad and Marik, but for Marik there was still hope. In the back of his mind he knew that if Marik expired, there would be no dawn.
****
Kaiba0302: Well, that was fun^^! Uh, please R&R? *Begins designing a flame-proof body suit*
Kaiba0302: Okay. Chapter three. The main villain guy of this fic, Arvad, makes his appearance. Simply, he's a real bad-ass who has some interesting secrets...By the way, are any of you planning on reviewing?
~~((~~
Marik opened his eyes to a world of darkness and pain. Groaning, he closed them again, but it only served to intensify the pain. Slowly he forced them open again and allowed them to wander down his form. His entire body screamed in agony. Several large bruises had formed on his chest and sides, marring the perfect shade of gold with purple and black. Two long cuts extended the length of his torso on either side and stopped just above the waistband of his pants. Well, that was one less thing to worry about... Viciously biting back another moan of pain, he struggled onto his side. It was then that he realized that there was a shackle on one of his ankles, chaining him firmly to a wall. Marik attempted to sit up, sending his nerves into convulsions of agony. With a start and rising fear he realized that he was almost completely unable to move. He realized that he had been drugged. He looked about at his surroundings from his position on the floor. He appeared to be in a cell of some sort. The walls were old oven-baked bricks, stacked evenly and overlaid with plaster. He would never be able to break through. He managed to turn his head, pressin ghis face against the ground, when it came against the flesh of his right eye. Pain exploded in his head. He reeled for a moment before gingerly turning away from the offensive surface. A black eye had formed. Great. Just great.
Suddenly he felt something cold and wet being pressed against his shoulder. With a snarl he convulsed against the burning cold, and suddenly found himself thrown backwards onto the floor of the cell with three football player-sized men on top of him, holding him down. "You shouldn't scorn pity that is the gift of a gentle heart," A voice from somewhere above said to him. Marik snapped viciously at a hand that was positioned conveniently close to his mouth, sharp teeth closing on the palm of one of his captors. There was a scream of pain as he tore into the offending hand, foreign blood filling his mouth and gushing down his heaving throat. The hand was ripped away, leaving behind a bloody strip of flesh hanging from between Marik's teeth. The mutilated hand was raised to strike--
There was a sickening thud and a fresh howl of pain from the owner of the ruined appendige as am intricately carved knife whirred through the air and impaled it against one of the walls. A surprisingly calm male voice said, "That's enough," and Marik recognized it as the one who had spoken moments before. The newcomer entered the cell with the air of a king, walking fluidly to the panting bleeding man still nailed to the wall, and with surprising strength, wrenched the knife from the hand of his servant. Ignoring the shriek of pain that resounded, he turned and looked at the two fit men. His eyes were cold. "Leave us." The two servants nodded and, lifting their still screaming companion, left the room.
The stranger walked to Marik and knelt beside him. "Now then..." Marik was suddenly terrified almost to the point of insanity. What did this man want? Money? It didn't matter. He didn't have any on him, and his apartment would have surely been plundered. And if he wanted ransom, there wasn't anyone to pay it. The stranger saw the fear in Marik's eyes and laughed, though the humor did not reach his own eyes, which remained cold and calculating. "Come now, don't tell me that you don't remember me?"
Marik was puzzled. He looked up into the venomous green eyes, whose shape matched his own. Long, thick, white hair framed the man's dark angular face and spilled over his shoulders, layered and ending in small points. No, he did not recognize this person at all.
"My name is Arvad. Does that not ring a bell?"
Marik thought, though his mind was still numb from the paralyzing drug. Arvad...yes. Why was that name familiar to him? Why...His eyes widened. No, it was impossible. Only the unimaginable...
Arvad chuckled low in his throat. "You always were rash, my brother," he said, leaning back to look at Marik, "You act long before you think. The pharaoh Yami is not dim-witted."
Marik stared up at his brother, still unbelieving. "How is this possible? How did you survive? You..." He shook his head in disbelief, as if the image of his long lost brother were just a mirage. "You were exiled!"
Arvad closed his eyes and put his head back. The black tank that he wore couldn't hide his muscular build, falling several inches short of the hem of his tight low slung jeans, showing off a dark, firm lower stomach. A leather choker with a small silver square set in the front circled his neck. A black leather belt crossed his hips at an angle, a holster positioned on one side. The butt of a pistol protruded forbiddingly. He smiled grimly. "It is true that I was exiled, in the hopes that what the oracle told our father was true:
"The second-born shall bring glory,
As mid-day brings forth heat and well-being.
But as the sun dies in the west,
The last-born shall bring the downfall of the family."
Arvad lowered his head, hiding his eyes with his long white hair. "You, my brother, were the second born, supposedly the one to bring glory to the family. It was obvious that I would be the last, being as our mother was becoming too old to birth children." Arved smirked. "And aside from the fact that she died giving birth to me."
Marik tensed.
Arvad continued. "So you see my brother, that you were rash in your attempts to obtain the pharaohnic power? Glory was not won, nor is it easily won. As the chosen one, the Pharaoh's Will was engraved onto your back by our father, as I'm sure you very well know." Arvad's eyes glittered. "But I...I, being exiled, was unable to discover the secrets to claiming the pharaoh's power. All I need from you is a bit of cooperation."
"You will get no such thing from me!" Marik snarled. He could feel his anger rising. Suddenly his mind was flooded with memories of his brother; innocent and pure as morning sunlight, and he wondered briefly, 'Arvad, what has happened to you?'
Arvad smirked again. "I see you wonder about how I survived?"
"I don't care!"
Arvad continued as if he hadn't heard. "As you know, one who is exiled is simply disowned by the family and left to wander the endless seas of sand, reeling with blind hunger and thirst, before finally lying down and succumbing to the darkness. I managed to find my way to an oasis where I stayed for what seemed like weeks." Arvad paused. "Some time later, a small company of rogue warriors passed through. And found me. My appearance was new to them; they were especially enthralled by my white hair." Arvad closed his eyes and smiled, as if reliving some long forgotten bitter-sweet memory. "Thinking that I was some sort of god in disguise, they took me under their wings. I taught them to make better weapons, and about herbal remedies. In return..." Arvad opened his eyes and gazed piercingly into Marik's. "They taught me to kill."
Marik was silent.
Arvad's eyes clouded as he seemingly gazed into nothing. "I still have a chance, brother," he turned back to Marik, "To earn honor for our family name. I will myself claim Yami's pharaohnic power, and the Ishtar name will once again be renowned!"
Marik's lip curled. "How exactly do you plan on achieving all of this, dear brother?" A biting undertone of sarcasm laced his voice.
Arvad looked into his eyes. "With a little cooperation from you," he said softly, eyes glinting.
Marik shuddered.
*****
Arvad strode swiftly from the cell, ignoring his brother's fresh groans of pain. He had left him after forcefully making him submit to having his back deciphered. He walked down a corridor then turned left into another, this one lined on either side with doors which opened so many more options. It would be easy to get lost in here. Arvad smirked. he knew his way around very well. He entered a large room, lit with numerous torches placed at regular intervals on the walls. All of the lightbulbs had burned out or been broken. Boxes, old and new, cardboard and metal, littered the concrete floor. On the far side of the room, towering electric doors stood forbiddingly, pullies and ropes attached to each like some bizarre type of IV tubes.
A male voice called out to him from the shadows. "Master Arvad?"
Arvad chuckled softly. "I see you there, Ogano. Speak!"
The shadowed figure emerged from the darkest recesses of the room, allowing light to fall upon him. Ogano's face was young, umarred by scars or age. His black robes concealed a tall, lean, well-built figure. Deep sea-foam grey eyes glittered under a small band of gold resting at his temples. The Eye of Horus peered out from the center of his forehead, gleaming silver. He was Arvad's most cunning, and deadly, servant. "I am assuming that everything was achieved?"
"Yes, everything went according to plan," Arvad replied shortly. He was in no mood for idle bantering. Subduing Marik physically had been difficult. Even after the necessary precautions with paralyzing drugs, Marik was still as swift as a snake. And just as enchanting as one. But his poison was subtle. He would weave back and forth, thread one's mind with the drugging effects of intrigue and mystery, before striking cold-heartedly, over and over and over...
Ogano nodded respectfully. "That is good. You are very...persuasive..." They both chuckled as if sharing an inside joke. Ogano spoke again. "Do you still plan on making a move for Shadi?"
Arvad nodded stiffly. His eyes narrowed at the thought of the solemn-eyed protector of the Items. "Yes. He is still an essential part of my plans."
"And when might you plan on doing so?"
"In my own time, Ogano!"
"Of course, Master..." Ogano bowed low in apology. "But do you plan on doing this yourself?"
Arvad thought deeply. "Yes," he said a moment later. "Can't have you taking all the fun, can we?"
Ogano chuckled grimly. "No we can't."
Arvad smirked. "You are always able to tell me exactly what I want to hear, my servant." His eyes glinted like moonlight off a blade, the deadly light passing lightly over Ogano's features.
Ogano tensed but forced himself to relax. For Arvad to see a sign of weakness or fear would be like giving a mouse a cookie. 'If you give a mouse a cookie, he'll want a glass of milk,' he thought grimly. "Master...what shall we do about Marik?"
Arvad gazed at him, eyes searching. "Keep him here. We can't let him get away. He might alert Yami, or Shadi, as to our movements." Arvad's eyes narrowed. "Am I correct in saying that your loyalties lie with me, Ogano, and no longer with Marik?"
Ogano lowered his eyes. "Yes, Master Arvad," he said softly.
Arvad's lip curled. "Good. Keep it that way. You are mine now." With that he Turned briskly and strode forth from the room. Ogano watched him go, mixed feelings churning in his mind. Old loyalties wakened with a flame. He knew in his heart that the sun had gone down on both Arvad and Marik, but for Marik there was still hope. In the back of his mind he knew that if Marik expired, there would be no dawn.
****
Kaiba0302: Well, that was fun^^! Uh, please R&R? *Begins designing a flame-proof body suit*