Dark Crimson Night: Deadly Dilemma
Author's note: And here we have chapter two. Enjoy!
Warnings: Yaoi, cussing, death, blood, mass destruction, lots of dark things and who knows what else at this point.
Pairings: Not going to tell yet. ^_~
Disclaimer: *shakes head*
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Dark tanned fingers grasped a pale limb, pulling a slight silvery figure along the darkened street. Feet pattered along the stones, running as swiftly as they could. Lavender eyes darted about frantically, searching for a place to hide. A dark alley. The boy pulled his companion inside and crouched, pressing against the wall. Frantic chocolate eyes gazed up at him in worry and half-suppressed fear. Twin heartbeats struggled desperately against fragile ribs. Shadows darted by their hiding place on blackened wings. Once they had passed, the silver-haired boy breathed a sharp sigh of relief.
"Ryou?" the tanned figure asked quietly. The boy flinched when tanned hands removed his own pale one from its place at his side. Dark crimson blood stained the ivory palms. Ryou shuddered, gritting his teeth as the other boy inspected the bleeding wound at his side.
"I'm alright Malik," he answered, gasping. Malik gave the boy a skeptical look. He rolled his eyes and stripped off his tattered shirt, ripping a piece away. Ryou hissed lightly as the blonde used the tattered, dirty cloth to bind his wound, biting back a yelp when the fabric met flesh. "Really, I'm alright," he murmured weakly.
"The wound wasn't too deep. We got lucky this time," Malik answered absently. Ryou nodded in agreement, resting a hand on his friend's shoulder. Under his sensitive palms, he could feel the blackened scars that decorated the tan boy's back twitch and shift with the movement of the skin. Malik flinched lightly at the touch, reminding himself that Ryou was far from a threat. Still, the darkened scars he had borne since birth always gave him a sense of unease, unease that forced him to cover them whenever possible. Only Ryou knew of their existence, as the pale boy was the only one he trusted.
Malik brushed Ryou's arm lightly, noting the light shiver of the boys skin when his hand touched the thin scar on Ryou's upper arm. Like him, Ryou too bore an inexplicable mark on his skin, something that had been there as long as the pale boy could remember. Neither knew the meaning of their markings, only that they attracted more trouble than they were worth, and for that, they had to stick together. Ryou nudged him, noticing that Malik had become lost in thought. The tanned boy smiled lightly at him, glancing out of the alley.
"We should move," he murmured. Ryou nodded, allowing the taller boy to pull him to his feet. His limbs were shaking lightly now that the threat had passed. Malik's eyes narrowed in concern. "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked. Ryou nodded, drawing a shallow breath. Shadows were beginning to creep into his vision and he shook his head to clear it.
"I'll be fine." Malik nodded, knowing better than to argue with the shockingly stubborn boy. Glancing once more out at the street, he nodded back to Ryou and stepped into the road without a word. The two moved quickly, glancing back often to make sure they weren't being followed. Malik's ears pricked up when he heard a shallow gasp from behind him. They were just turning into a second abandoned alley when he heard a dull thump and spun.
"Ryou!" The pale boy had collapsed in the crumbling road, shaking slightly and obviously unconscious. His already pale lips were tinged slightly blue with cold. Cursing, the tanned boy knelt to check his friends pulse and found it erratic. Thinking quickly, he checked the boy's wound and was horrified by what he found. Silvery veins were snaking up from the wound, poison from the claws of one of the Dark One's wraith servants.
He had been foolish to think Ryou had been marked by a blade. Wraiths didn't carry blades, only their own tainted claws and teeth. Wraith poison was deadly to humans, and while an antidote did exist, it was nearly impossible to find.
"Damn it Ryou," Malik muttered, lifting the boy onto his back. "You could have told me." With that he took off, heading for the one place they might be safe.
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Sharp pain shot through Bakura's chest, causing his dark eyes to flicker slightly. He grimaced, breathing lightly until the feeling had passed.
"Bakura?" Jou's light voice piped up in concern. The blonde was far more observant now then he had been in the past, Bakura noted with some dismay.
"It's nothing," the thief muttered darkly. Jou nodded, somewhat skeptical, and turned as the door opened and Yami entered the small dark apartment room. From what Seto and Jou had told them, this was where they had lived since the beginning of the 'Dark One's' reign.
It was a small apartment, with room for about four, with an extensive underground maze where their main base was held. Outside of the rundown apartment building lay the lower city, known too many just as the Pit. It was really nothing more than a dingy roadway lined with strange shops for those who managed to find enough items to sell to the desperate public.
Neither Yami nor Bakura had bothered trying to go out as of yet. It was still risky considering their situation and they couldn't draw attention to this place. Yami sighed, watching Bakura carefully. The thief was acting unusually reserved, very different from how he had acted in the past. He seemed almost… depressed? The crimson-eyed yami cleared his throat to get the thief's attention.
"I think Ishtal's waking up," he murmured. The tomb-robber nodded absently, standing and brushing off his pants before turning towards Yami, silently telling him to lead the way. Yami glanced at Jou and smiled wryly. "Don't worry, we'll make sure he doesn't completely destroy Seto's lab." Jou would have found the comment funny if it hadn't been so realistic. They had no idea how the youngest yami was going to react. Without a word, Yami turned, leading the enigmatic tomb robber down to where their companion waited.
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Malik ducked inside of the run down building he and Ryou lived in, skirting past fallen pieces of rubble and making his way to the back of the old warehouse. A tattered curtain, or what was left of one, near the back revealed a crumbling tunnel once opened. Malik carefully set Ryou down, lifting him again into his arms so he wouldn't hit the boy against the stone.
Moving to the end of the tunnel, he reached a nest-like bundle of old fabric that had been laid out. In a small alcove, a tiny oil lamp burned dimly, almost flickering out, as its fuel was low. Malik set Ryou down among the blankets, checking his wound once more before covering the shaking form with extra fabric. The silvery-black veins flowing upward from his wound were growing steadily. Malik sighed, pressing his palm to Ryou's forehead. It was burning with fever.
"Ryou…" he murmured, worried for his trembling friend. He stood, wrapping one of the bits of fabric around his shoulders and head like a small cloak to hide his features. "I'll find some way to help you. Don't die one me." With that, he dashed out of their small sanctuary, praying that somewhere, somehow, he could find what he needed to save the pale boy.
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Both yamis were quite surprised by what they found when they entered Seto's lab. On the still occupied cot, their youngest companions sat, knees pulled to his chest and rocking slightly. A sound of light whimpering filled the room, completely uncharacteristic of the usually violent, out of control being. Bakura was the first to approach Ishtal, casting hesitation to the wind as he sat down, wrapping an arm around the tanned yami. Ishtal jumped, glancing frantically around until his eyes came to rest on the thief.
"Cold…" he shuddered, his lithe body shuddering. "Hikari… Hikari wa doko desu ka?"[1] His voice was light and desperate. Dark lavender eyes rested on Bakura, a flicker of recognition registering. "Bakura?" The thief nodded calmly, slowly running a hand over the yami's back in circles to calm him.
"We'll find him Ishtal," he murmured. Looking on Yami couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable. Bakura was acting far to calm, and Ishtal… the crimson-eyed spirit couldn't remember *ever* seeing him even remotely distraught, let alone this upset.
"Bakura?" he asked calmly. Ishtal jumped at the voice, his eyes widening when he noticed Yami. He shivered, curling into a tighter ball and whimpering. Bakura shot the former pharaoh a scathing look.
"You said yourself that this would happen," he snapped. Ishtal flinched at the harsh voice.
"Bakura…" he murmured. The pale yami sighed, turning back to his distressed companion. "It's so cold. Where is he… can't feel him… hikari…" Bakura flinched, his eyes narrowing in concern.
"Ishtal… he's…"
"NO!" The tanned yami clutched his head, shaking more violently then ever. "No… hikari… don't leave me alone… don't…" Ishtal slumped back on his cot, caught by Bakura as he slipped into unconsciousness.
"We have to find them Bakura," Yami murmured, watching silently.
"You think I don't know that?" the thief snapped. "You and I can handle this for a time. Ishtal has never been completely separated from Malik… we can't expect him to be able to handle it. Look what it did to us." Bakura stopped, taking in a sharp breath. "You ended up with not a memory left, and I…" he couldn't finish the sentence, though Yami could guess what he meant. Bakura too had forgotten, forgotten his past and his motives for his quest. He had become uncontrollably harsh, hating everything living for his curse, even his own other half. Bakura stood, brushing back Ishtal's spiky bangs and drawing a blanket over his tall form.
"I'm going upstairs. Look after him," he muttered and left the room as swiftly as they had entered. Yami sighed, glancing at the door before turning back to the tanned spirit who had once nearly destroyed him. Even Bakura, to his knowledge, hadn't come so close. But despite that, the former pharaoh couldn't help but pity the taller yami. Ishtal had been created by Malik's pain, anger and fear, he didn't understand, nor had he ever felt other emotions… until now. Now, not only was his only source of stability gone, now the things he was feeling were driving him insane.
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Malik dashed swiftly through the deserted streets, making his way quickly towards the entrance to the lower city. If there was any hope of him finding the antidote to the wraith's poison, it would be there. There in the lower city, where a single street lined with strange shops lay for those with the ability to pay. If he was lucky, he might just be able to steal one of the vials. Dark pillars ahead loomed over him as he dashed through the seeming portal. This was the entrance to the darkened underworld, what had once, according to stories, been a bustling train station.
Below, stretching out before him, Malik found the infamous street known as the Pit. Here, if anywhere, would be the place to find his cure. He dashed along the street, carefully avoiding various passers by while holding the tattered fabric that served as a cloak around his body. It wouldn't help for anyone to see him. He had been attacked before in the lower city just for his unusual looks.
Shuddering at the memory, Malik glanced around him, searching for any likely stalls. A small, shabby shop near the end of the row looked like it might be promising. Oddly colored glass bottles lined the dusty shelves, glittering in the dim light as if they were beckoning him. Seeing no one near by, the tanned boy darted inside, keeping a careful look out for the store's owner.
Surprised at finding no one inside but ignoring that fact, he began to search the shelves with desperate speed, searching for the antidote. A tiny green vial with a silvery label caught his eye. Malik reached up, fingers brushing the bottle just as another hand tugged at his wrist and dragged him away from the shelf. Angry sapphire eyes glared back at him, holding him off balance by his arm while he struggled vainly.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" a harsh and strangely familiar voice hissed.
"Let me go!" Malik yelped, tugging at his captured arm. The taller figure growled, reaching up and pulling his makeshift cloak away from his face. Harsh sapphire eyes widened. There was a gasp, and the hand around Malik's wrist tightened slightly in surprise.
"Impossible…"
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Author's note: Ack, what's going to happen to Ryou? Is Ishtal going to retain even the slightest bit of sanity? What traumatized Bakura into acting so weird?
Yami: You could just tell us…
*smirks* What fun would that be? See ya around for the next chapter. ^_^ Please don't forget to review!