Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh or any of the characters in this story. If
I did, I wouldn't be writing fan fiction!
Author's note: / indicates a thought by Marik. indicates a thought by Bakura. This is my third chapter of my third story, so I thought I'd try some new ideas out, so R&R PLEASE!
The Beginning of the End.
Chapter 3- Awakened.
Darkness was all he knew. Darkness was all he was. There was nothing else there but a vague memory of a life long past and an unquenchable thirst for revenge. The taste of blood lingered on his lips, if only in his dreams. His life was a dream. An endless nightmare. The sort that scars a child for life and sends even the toughest men crying for their mommies. But Bakura didn't cry. Bakura didn't howl. He had lived here for so long he had BECOME the darkness. It didn't bother him. He had begun to like it, in a twisted sort of way.
I cannot be destroyed, for I AM the darkness...
The deprivation of all senses was the worst part. So long without the feel of wind in your hair, the smell of freshly baked bread, the taste of oven smoked fish, the sound of a woman's voice; all this can ruin a man. But the darkness was so thick that Bakura could not even feel the ground beneath his feet, or see his nose in front of him. There was nothing, and he was nothing.
I AM the darkness....
Two faces lingered in his mind while he was trapped in the dark abyss. One he would enjoy killing and his flesh would be burned alive and torn from his body while it still writhed with life. Seto Kaiba would die, and nothing could stop Bakura except the suspending darkness around him. Marik Ishtar was different. Of course he would die as well for his treachery; that was unless he could convince Bakura otherwise. But the boy was a sort of friend to him. The only friend he had ever had since Seto had banished him from the temple simply for attempting to eat the sacrificial lamb.
I AM!! I AM! I Am. I am. I...
The solitary confinement of his mind sent him mad. Bloodlust took control of him. The taste of blood grew fainter and fainter until it was completely lost and Bakura was sick with the loss of it. He tried to draw blood from his own body, but it seemed as if it, too, had dried up and disappeared like the blood on his mouth had. His tongue was dry and his sharp fangs raked restlessly along it's surface half heartedly, knowing it would draw no more of the life giving red substance than when he had tried the last four hundred or so times. It had been so long, but how long Bakura wasn't sure. Time stood still, though it still seemed to mark the boy. He grew starved and dehydrated, but he would not die. It was not possible to destroy him while he was here.
I AM THE DARKNESS!!! I CANNOT BE DESTROYED!!! I AM THE DARKNESS!!! I AM I AM I AM!!!
Marik huddled in the thick dark, suspended by its impenetrable black. Nothing crossed his mind. He had given up thinking millennia ago. He had given up everything- hope, fear, hate, confusion, love. Holding on to these things when deep down in your heart you know they can never be held again can eat a person's soul. Marik still had his soul. It was all he had. An empty shell comprised of subconscious thoughts and feelings. Consciously he was aware of nothing, because that was all there was. Nothing. Endless black. Darkness. At the back of his mind thoughts flashed across.
/ Seto Kaiba destroyed me. Seto Kaiba, my Master, finished my life through his own jealousy. Seto Kaiba must die. /
One shone brighter than the others and nudged his conscious mind, only to be pushed back into the pits of his mind again.
/ Bakura. He trusted me. I destroyed him through my own lust for power. I must die. /
He had tried to kill himself. It had not worked. No blood had come. No flesh had been torn. The darkness did not shift. Marik was non existent. He had no body left to destroy.
/ I cannot be killed. But I must be... I must be.../
The darkness shifts. The first change in its texture in longer than Bakura could remember. It swirled and pulsed. It beat at his skull until he screamed in agony. Dark red flew from where his mouth should be. Yes, his mouth was there. So was the rest of his face, and his body, and his legs. He was whole once again. Blood dribbled down his chin and he licked it up hungrily, oblivious or uncaring to the fact that it was his own, and ignoring the pain from his sliced tongue as he worked it around his lips so as not to lose any of the sweet liquid. The moment was so sudden and sweet that for the time being he didn't care to know what was happening to his dark sanctuary. But he soon asked that question to himself, and was surprised to hear his own voice echoing of unseen walls. This was no the same place he had spent the last five thousand years in. This was different. This was a place where everything was real and Bakura was alive again. That was all that mattered. If he lived, then it meant he had the opportunity to finally get his revenge on Seto Kaiba. To finally taste victory. The taste of the Priest's blood.
The first taste of light hit Marik like a slap and made him squint, scrunching up his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. The sensation was welcomed like an old friend and wonderful after so long feeling numb. Attempting to open his eyes again, Marik surveyed his surroundings curiously.
/ This place... It looks so familiar... /
Looking down at himself he was relieved to see that he hadn't aged a day since he had been trapped. It would make his death seem more appropriate. Staring down at his clenched hands and the pale veins showing in his wrists he considered his options. He looked around himself again. A darkly stained brick room surrounded him and a low opening led out into an equally dim hallway. A low bed with thin covers squatted in the corner, and under the pillow...
/ Pillow? How did I know that? I've never seen one of those things before... and how do I know it's for sleeping on? /
... was the glint of a sharp blade. It was tempting Marik in a way that nobody but a child in an unattended candy store would understand. He stepped towards it, but with a strange reluctance. He was free again. Alive. Did he really want to give that all away because of a boy who was condemned to death anyway? Hadn't Seto told him that a condemned man should be aided to speed his end and make it easier for his passing? It was one lesson he had remembered well. Very well. After all, he had had five millennia to brood over his lessons.
/ Brood. Lose hope. Lose myself. Lose everything. I had nothing. Now it's all mine again. I can have it all. No point in dying now. No... Bakura would understand. He doesn't have the chance not to. /
Marik laughed silently to himself as his dark hand reached out and took hold of the object under the pillow and examined it. The laugh echoed around in the depths of his mind and morphed into a sort of evil sneer. Not a blade, no. Marik let out a frenzied laugh, this time out loud, and a tear dropped on the Millennium Rod he now held clenched in his fist.
THAT'S ALL FOR NOW FOLKS! TUNE IN NEXT TIME FOR THE GOOD STUFF! MARIK AND BAKURA UNLEASHED ON THE WORLD, BUT THERE'S A SLIGHT TWIST TO THE STORY AS YOU KNOW IT.... Toothy One
Author's note: / indicates a thought by Marik. indicates a thought by Bakura. This is my third chapter of my third story, so I thought I'd try some new ideas out, so R&R PLEASE!
The Beginning of the End.
Chapter 3- Awakened.
Darkness was all he knew. Darkness was all he was. There was nothing else there but a vague memory of a life long past and an unquenchable thirst for revenge. The taste of blood lingered on his lips, if only in his dreams. His life was a dream. An endless nightmare. The sort that scars a child for life and sends even the toughest men crying for their mommies. But Bakura didn't cry. Bakura didn't howl. He had lived here for so long he had BECOME the darkness. It didn't bother him. He had begun to like it, in a twisted sort of way.
I cannot be destroyed, for I AM the darkness...
The deprivation of all senses was the worst part. So long without the feel of wind in your hair, the smell of freshly baked bread, the taste of oven smoked fish, the sound of a woman's voice; all this can ruin a man. But the darkness was so thick that Bakura could not even feel the ground beneath his feet, or see his nose in front of him. There was nothing, and he was nothing.
I AM the darkness....
Two faces lingered in his mind while he was trapped in the dark abyss. One he would enjoy killing and his flesh would be burned alive and torn from his body while it still writhed with life. Seto Kaiba would die, and nothing could stop Bakura except the suspending darkness around him. Marik Ishtar was different. Of course he would die as well for his treachery; that was unless he could convince Bakura otherwise. But the boy was a sort of friend to him. The only friend he had ever had since Seto had banished him from the temple simply for attempting to eat the sacrificial lamb.
I AM!! I AM! I Am. I am. I...
The solitary confinement of his mind sent him mad. Bloodlust took control of him. The taste of blood grew fainter and fainter until it was completely lost and Bakura was sick with the loss of it. He tried to draw blood from his own body, but it seemed as if it, too, had dried up and disappeared like the blood on his mouth had. His tongue was dry and his sharp fangs raked restlessly along it's surface half heartedly, knowing it would draw no more of the life giving red substance than when he had tried the last four hundred or so times. It had been so long, but how long Bakura wasn't sure. Time stood still, though it still seemed to mark the boy. He grew starved and dehydrated, but he would not die. It was not possible to destroy him while he was here.
I AM THE DARKNESS!!! I CANNOT BE DESTROYED!!! I AM THE DARKNESS!!! I AM I AM I AM!!!
Marik huddled in the thick dark, suspended by its impenetrable black. Nothing crossed his mind. He had given up thinking millennia ago. He had given up everything- hope, fear, hate, confusion, love. Holding on to these things when deep down in your heart you know they can never be held again can eat a person's soul. Marik still had his soul. It was all he had. An empty shell comprised of subconscious thoughts and feelings. Consciously he was aware of nothing, because that was all there was. Nothing. Endless black. Darkness. At the back of his mind thoughts flashed across.
/ Seto Kaiba destroyed me. Seto Kaiba, my Master, finished my life through his own jealousy. Seto Kaiba must die. /
One shone brighter than the others and nudged his conscious mind, only to be pushed back into the pits of his mind again.
/ Bakura. He trusted me. I destroyed him through my own lust for power. I must die. /
He had tried to kill himself. It had not worked. No blood had come. No flesh had been torn. The darkness did not shift. Marik was non existent. He had no body left to destroy.
/ I cannot be killed. But I must be... I must be.../
The darkness shifts. The first change in its texture in longer than Bakura could remember. It swirled and pulsed. It beat at his skull until he screamed in agony. Dark red flew from where his mouth should be. Yes, his mouth was there. So was the rest of his face, and his body, and his legs. He was whole once again. Blood dribbled down his chin and he licked it up hungrily, oblivious or uncaring to the fact that it was his own, and ignoring the pain from his sliced tongue as he worked it around his lips so as not to lose any of the sweet liquid. The moment was so sudden and sweet that for the time being he didn't care to know what was happening to his dark sanctuary. But he soon asked that question to himself, and was surprised to hear his own voice echoing of unseen walls. This was no the same place he had spent the last five thousand years in. This was different. This was a place where everything was real and Bakura was alive again. That was all that mattered. If he lived, then it meant he had the opportunity to finally get his revenge on Seto Kaiba. To finally taste victory. The taste of the Priest's blood.
The first taste of light hit Marik like a slap and made him squint, scrunching up his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. The sensation was welcomed like an old friend and wonderful after so long feeling numb. Attempting to open his eyes again, Marik surveyed his surroundings curiously.
/ This place... It looks so familiar... /
Looking down at himself he was relieved to see that he hadn't aged a day since he had been trapped. It would make his death seem more appropriate. Staring down at his clenched hands and the pale veins showing in his wrists he considered his options. He looked around himself again. A darkly stained brick room surrounded him and a low opening led out into an equally dim hallway. A low bed with thin covers squatted in the corner, and under the pillow...
/ Pillow? How did I know that? I've never seen one of those things before... and how do I know it's for sleeping on? /
... was the glint of a sharp blade. It was tempting Marik in a way that nobody but a child in an unattended candy store would understand. He stepped towards it, but with a strange reluctance. He was free again. Alive. Did he really want to give that all away because of a boy who was condemned to death anyway? Hadn't Seto told him that a condemned man should be aided to speed his end and make it easier for his passing? It was one lesson he had remembered well. Very well. After all, he had had five millennia to brood over his lessons.
/ Brood. Lose hope. Lose myself. Lose everything. I had nothing. Now it's all mine again. I can have it all. No point in dying now. No... Bakura would understand. He doesn't have the chance not to. /
Marik laughed silently to himself as his dark hand reached out and took hold of the object under the pillow and examined it. The laugh echoed around in the depths of his mind and morphed into a sort of evil sneer. Not a blade, no. Marik let out a frenzied laugh, this time out loud, and a tear dropped on the Millennium Rod he now held clenched in his fist.
THAT'S ALL FOR NOW FOLKS! TUNE IN NEXT TIME FOR THE GOOD STUFF! MARIK AND BAKURA UNLEASHED ON THE WORLD, BUT THERE'S A SLIGHT TWIST TO THE STORY AS YOU KNOW IT.... Toothy One
