Second chapter!
Malik makes his first appearance here, Ryou and Yugi will probably come later since the chapter would be too long if I crammed them all into one.
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After three thousand years of being bound to make sure the lost pharaoh recovers his past, the last descendents of the Ishtar clan could finally live a normal life. With nothing to hide and protect any longer, they decided to leave their underground home in the care of the lesser tomb keepers, whom willingly obliged.
Indeed, the Ishtars were finally given the life they had secretly desired and for generations, have been denied.
But those were all in the past. With the pharaoh's spirit passing into the afterlife, their duty has been fulfilled, their job was done. No longer were they forced to live in isolation from the world, no longer were they burdened with the clan's curse.
Now, they had a home above ground, and as the moon's gentle rays illuminated the now almost silent streets of Egypt, a lone boy sat by his window, sparkling purple orbs gazing down, waiting for his sister and brother to return.
It seemed impossible that this boy, relaxing himself under the night's cold air, once held the world at its throat, once displayed the cunningness of an evil mastermind, and the slyness of an expert thief, and once lost himself in the very pits of darkness itself.
His shoulder-length dull-gold hair was in slight disarray as the night breeze blew upon his face. His slender frame was clothed in a t-shirt and a pair of loose cotton pants. A slight frown was set on his face as he wondered what was taking his siblings so long.
Such was the image of a bored and slightly impatient Malik Ishtar.
He looked at the wall clock at the other end of his room. Only several more minutes before midnight. He went back to gazing out the window.
Malik wasn't really worried. Isis, his older sister, along with Rishid, their adopted brother, were making their usual visit to their old home. They had asked if he wanted to come of course, but as he did numerous times before, he declined. Their underground village would no doubt trigger the worst memories of his life.
Though it was true that their task was over, the other tomb keepers had insisted that they be allowed to stay underground. He himself didn't know how they could actually like living in that hole.
Isis didn't see any harm and allowed them to stay there; they do not have a home above round anyways.
So, every week or so, she, accompanied by Rishid, would make their way to the secret lair as a sort of 'check-up' just incase they would change their mind, or—heaven forbid—something was wrong.
With the Millennium Items gone, the secrets held by every tomb keeper seemed unlikely to be of any threat if ever discovered, but then, it might be better if this particular series of information would remain within the circle. Just incase the unexpected happens.
The boy got up, and in an almost lazy fashion, walked across his room, flicked the light switch off and opened the door, getting out.
The home they had purchased was quite spacious, more than enough for three people. Isis had taken care of the interior design, settling with an Egyptian theme. The pots, jars, paintings, almost everything in the house would hold quite an amount if one decides to find its worth in the market. Everything was authentic. What more could be expected from a museum curator?
Malik's short walk eventually led him to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed a can of soda, chugging half of it down his throat in one go. He paused for a moment, contemplating if he'd try to prepare himself something to eat. He wasn't a cook or anything, so he settled with fixing himself a sandwich, which he planned on eating in his room later.
He rummaged through the contents of the refrigerator and came upon a tupperware of already-chopped boiled eggs. He decided to have an egg salad sandwich. Grabbing a jar of mayonnaise, he dumped a large slob of it in a large bowl on the kitchen counter and mixed it with the chopped boiled eggs. As he mixed them together with a large spoon in silence, he heard footsteps down the hall.
Isis and Rishid must be back, he thought. He put a large glob of the mixture on a slice of bread and hurried to greet his siblings.
He looked around the hall and found it deserted, thinking they probably went to the second floor to freshen themselves up, he chomped a bite down his sandwich and proceeded to scale the stairs upwards.
Suddenly, a cold uncomfortable feeling washed over him. He stiffened, stopping in his tracks. Only then did he notice how abnormally quiet the house was. And now that he thought about it, how come Isis didn't call his name when she entered the house? It had become her habit, to announce her arrival whenever she came home.
And how come he only heard one set of footsteps before? Isis and Rishid always came back home together.
A shadow at the edge of his vision snapped him out of his thoughts, it came from his room. Maybe they came up to check on him, thinking he had already gone to sleep.
"Sister? Rishid?" he called out, pausing afterwards and waiting for an answer. He frowned slightly when he received none.
He walked towards his room, his bare feet padding softly. Almost cautiously, he sneaked his head in to have a peek. To his confusion, he saw no one. He switched on the lights to have a better look.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary or out of place. Maybe the shadow he had seen was a simple trick of the light?
Slightly shaken of the strange events, Malik decided to go back down…maybe grab a knife from the kitchen to ease the thought of his vulnerability if someone was with him in the house, watching his every move. The sandwich he held on his hand was long forgotten, his appetite gone quite some time ago.
He stashed the sandwich in the refrigerator and grabbed a long knife from its holder. He then sat down the kitchen table, completely silent, his ears trying to pick up any sound within the household.
As the minutes passed and nothing seemed to happen, Malik began to wonder if he was just being paranoid and overreacting just a tiny bit.
CRASH
The sound confirmed his suspicions, one hand grasping the handle of the blade, he crouched down swiftly and started crawling towards the doorway. Guessing the crash came from the living room, Malik inched his way across the hall.
"Bloody vase," an irritated whisper was heard, a stranger's voice.
A growl. "You just blew our cover, if the kid grows suspicious before the Lord appears, and runs of, we're dead."
The first man snorted, "It's just a kid. We can just tie him up and gag him, and problem solved!"
"Keep your voice down!" the other reprimanded. "Besides, his Lord specifically said that we are not to touch him until he arrives."
By now, Malik was totally spooked. Who were these people? He couldn't deny that he felt scared, maybe if he still had the Millennium Rod he would've felt differently, probably even have the gall to strut in there and make the intruders a worthless mind slave without hesitation at all. However, now, he only had a kitchen knife to defend himself with. Though sharp, it was not exactly the best weapon.
What could he do?
"Just shut up, will you? Let's just keep an eye on the boy…"
Malik's breath caught in his throat, can they see him?
"What the—where'd the brat go?" one of the men exclaimed.
He looked around frantically, looking for somewhere, anywhere wherein he could hide. His eyes spotted the front door only a short distance away. Somehow, he felt that he'd be safer out in the streets than in here.
Taking a deep shuddering breath, he prepared himself, deciding to take his chances. With the knife still clutched in his hand, he sprinted towards the door, trying his best to keep the sound of his feet hitting the ground at its minimum.
His efforts however, were in vain.
"There he is—he's running away! Catch him!" came the yell.
He stopped trying to be silent and focused his efforts on reaching his destination as fast as possible. The sound of the men gaining on him driving him further.
"What the hell are we running for?" one suddenly said. Malik heard him halt in his tracks, but kept running despite his confusion. Finally, he managed to grasp the door knob, turning it without wasting any time. He had already thrown the door open and was about to literally leap into the night when he heard one of the stranger shout some kind of foreign-sounding word.
"Impedimenta!"
Before he could move, before he could even think about what the hell the men were saying, he felt an unpleasant sensation course through his body. When he tried to move, he found out he couldn't. He blinked in confusion, but found out he couldn't do that too.
He heard the men panting behind him, "Phew! That was too bloody close!"
"Yeah…"
He heard the pair start walking towards him and struggled desperately, the most he managed to do was grit his teeth in frustration.
The footsteps stopped, Malik could feel the men's presence less than a feet away from him. One of the men walked into his line of vision. He stared at the man's attire, it was a black cloak, the hood was up, shadowing the man's face.
Said man leaned forward, causing him to grind his teeth together again, and if Malik knew no better he could've sworn the man was wearing a look of amusement on his face.
"Hey, the kid's actually fighting the spell," he remarked.
Spell? What Spell?
The second man joined him, taking a look too. Malik heard, rather than felt a snarl emit from his mouth.
The second man chuckled clearly amused as well.
"So he is," he then seemed to look into his eyes; it was hard to tell when Malik can't see his face. "Heh, better give up boy, if you put even more strain into your body, it could literally snap."
He growled, and to his own surprise, even managed to grind a "Shut up," between his teeth.
The men laughed at this.
"Quite a feisty one isn't he? Not like Potter...whiny little brat…"
Not having any idea of who or what the man was talking about, and not caring either way, Malik forced himself to talk once more.
"Let…me…go…" he said, completely ignoring the slight dull pain forming in his head as he did so.
The men ignored him, instead looking at each other.
"What do we do with him now?" the one to his left asked. "We weren't suppose to let him know we were here until his Lord arrives."
"Well…there's nothing we can really do…I guess we can tie him up, the spell won't last for long since he's fighting it…"
Malik watched helplessly as one of them released the door knob from his iron grip. One of the men then grabbed his legs while the other his shoulders, they then proceeded to carry his form to the living room. Laying his unmoving form on the floor, Malik felt his eyebrows rise when one of them took a stick from his pocket and pointed it at him like a weapon.
"Make sure it's tight," said the other one.
A brief nod, and then to Malik's complete astonishment, thin tendrils shot out from the tip of the wooden rod. A second later, he found his arms pressed painfully against his sides, hands tied tightly together at his back he could already feel the binds cutting his skin, his feet at the same state.
"What…the hell?" he said, a louder attempt this time.
"Gag him too."
And Malik found a rope between his teeth, tied tightly behind his head. He gave the men a heated glare from where he was lying on the ground.
"Heh…I kinda like this little bugger…" said one almost fondly, "He just doesn't know when to give up."
"Well…we'll just see how much he can take before doing just that when Master arrives."
With the spell ebbing away, Malik found out that he can move his fingers once more. He had to resist a smirk, the fools didn't notice the dagger he had been holding all this time. He could feel it cutting his skin slightly, having been tied together with his arms. He didn't mind though, actually thankful, he could try to cut the bids from there.
As the men talked just above him, he started to work, wishing that the men won't notice his movements.
Before he could make any real progress though, a cold chilling voice spoke. It didn't belong to either of the men with him.
"Well well well…what happened here?"
From his position on the ground, Malik saw the others stiffen. He wondered about this briefly but soon found another dark figure above him. This new arrival however, had his hood down, and Malik couldn't help but let his eyes widen at the paper-white skin the man possessed as well as his slitted red eyes. His thin lips were curled into a sneer and Malik found himself shivering involuntarily when the man spoke.
"So…here we have the leader of the Ishtar clan, head guardians of the pharaoh's lost memories and previous owner of the Millennium Rod."
Malik's eyes widened. How did they know? No one knows about his role as tomb keeper and holder of the Millennium Rod except for his friends in Japan as well as his brother and sister, and he's positive that they would never reveal his secret to anyone. Wouldn't they?
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Malik's starting to doubt his friends. This can't lead to anything good, can it?
Please review!