Chapter Two!

{Ok... this one might seem like it has everything to do with nothing...but I promise that the next few chapters will all come together soon. lol...this chapter is a bit random.. but I hope you like it anyways!lol.. that title has nothing to do with the chapter..really.. i just am out of ideas . oh the song is by Creed.. and its called bullets.. yes. thats where i got the title for the story.. just thought youd like to know! oh and in this story... '...' those quote symbols stand for Bakura's voice.. and "..." those ones stand for Marik! }

The Illusion

Seto's POV

My house isn't huge. No. That's just an illusion people make up in their minds. I own bigger things than my house. The office in my house is half the size of the one in my tower. Hn. Who am I kidding? My house is pretty big...heck... I only use less than half of the rooms! One for my bedroom, another for my office, Mokuba's room, his game room, and the various other rooms he uses for various other reasons.

I made my way down the stairs, lined with a dark read carpet. I hated that color. It reminded me of blood. Blood. the life-giving fuel in my body. I hated it. Sometimes I wish I could just stop its cycle. Just shut down. Cease to exist. Sometimes, after being at work all day and having to deal with everyone's stupid pointless problems, I would come home and.."""Beep!""". My thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of one of my brother's many game boys.

"Mokuba. Are you down there?"

There was no answer. I shrugged it off. It was probably just my imagination again anyways. I headed left and into the kitchen. It was empty.

"I wonder where everybody has gone." I said in a half dazed tone.

There was a snicker in the corner of the room. I turned to see who it was, when I was attacked by something giant and red. Anger welled up inside of me as I raised my face from my brand new white jacket, which was now stained with random splatters of paint, to face none other than..Mokuba..and three other kids of whom I have never seen, least of all heard of or invited into MY house to shoot paintballs at me in MY kitchen. I was speechless.

"Se..Se..Seto..." Mokuba said.

I ground my teeth.

"I..i didn't know it was..you..I.." he trailed off

I put my hands to my head, and looked back down at my jacket. One of a kind. It had been made especially for the meeting I was holding today. I was going to get rid of a few employees who weren't quite pulling their weight around the office. I let my arms down and clenched my fists. Then I decided to walk out of the room as calmly as possible, Mokuba just standing there trying to be invisible. I didn't need this stress. What was I going to do?

Walking around I hear the earth seeking relief.
I'm trying to find a reason to live.
But the mindless clutter my path.
Oh these thorns in my side.
I know I have something free.
I have something so alive.
I think they shoot cause they want it.

I feel forces all around me.
Come on raise your head.
Those who hide behind the shadows,
Live with all that's dead.
.............................................................................................................

Ryou's POV

I rubbed my eyes. They've been bugging me a lot after the past few days. The room looked fuzzy as my eyes began to adjust from being rubbed. There was a knock at my front door, but I already knew it was Marik. Our Yami's have started a new obsession between themselves. They have realized a strong mind link between the two of them. I guess this is ok, because now whenever they want to talk to each other, there is no game of "take over the Hikari's body." I don't think they realize that I can here everything their talking about.

I can't help but smile at Bakura's new found friend. Lol, possibly his first. I'm glad he can at least be happy. Despite what people thought, I wasn't lonely. I just liked being alone is all. That is, at least, what I told myself. I seem to be writing a lot lately. Poetry, Songs, Short Stories, you name it. My writing may not be good, but it's alright, It's just the only real chance I have to spill me emotions. Plus, I found it to be a good way to pass the time.

I remember, one of Marik's friend's sisters once wrote a poem about a talking fish. As the story said, the boy caught the fish for dinner, but was tricked into letting it go, because the fish had offered him three wishes. The boy sat around all day waiting for the fish to return to grant him what his heart truly desired. He never got them, and instead, went home empty-handed.
Tragic. Well, as tragic as you can get when you're thinking about a talking fish. Still, I couldn't help but feel bad for the man. I always wondered what it is that he would have wished for, had the fish returned. Would it have been money? Fame? Love? or something entirely different.

I know the right thing to wish for would be peace, and happiness for the world. I hope I would wish for those two things, and not let the material world blind me from doing what is right. I would wish for the strength to do what I can to stop all of the evil that the world may put out.

'So then I went up to this tall guy, maybe 6 foot, give or take some, and stole his briefcase! You should have seen the look on his face'
" Really. What was inside?"
'You see, that's why I called you over..i thought it would be much more fun if we split the "dirty work '
"Well where is it then, you fool?"
Upstairs in my room. Wait here, I'll be back in a second.'

:(Ryou's voice) "What could those two be up to know?" I wondered. This might be interesting to listen to...I was quite curious as to what might be inside the stolen briefcase as well..; maybe I had been possessed by the tomb robber for a little bit too long.

'Ok here it is. I've just got to crack the lock code and we're in'

He bit his tongue while putting his ear up to the lock, which probably wasn't much use. Even he could have ripped it off, if he had really wanted to.

'There' Bakura said with an amount of satisfaction and maybe even relief that he didn't look stupid in front of Marik, in his voice. He lifted the lid to the whitish silver carrying. They started to go thought the contents, ooing at some points, and then stashing things that they thought to be valuable in their pockets, and between the couch cushions. The things looked familiar, but I could not quite put a name or a face to the items.

"Oh I call this one!" Marik stated rather loudly, "But whets this symbol, KC stand for?"

Beats me'

I tried to get off the subject of thinking of whom the stuff might belong to. Someone with a lot of money to spare, obviously. It was then that it occurred to me, KC; I remember seeing that same laptop in my Math class. This briefcase belonged to the boy who sat only two desks away from me. This briefcase belonged to Kaiba.