Puppetshipping (Marik x Strings)
He found the emaciated figure huddled in an alley. His ringed fingers clutched at his bald head, leaving nail marks in the pale skin. Wide, bloodshot eyes stared at nothing as he trembled.
He was a disturbing sight to Marik, in his stereotypical "emo" look, thick eyeliner, almost white face, and many piercings. He looked rather like a mime. But he also looked broken, alone, and terrified. It was as though something had been ripped from his soul and he would never recover from the wound.
"Hello," Marik said softly.
Like a mime, the boy did not answer. He didn't even look up at Marik. Marik's fingers tightened around the Millennium Rod, feeling a sense of foreboding.
"Are you all right?" he asked. "Is there something I can help you with?"
It was an old, canned line. He had used it many times before in recruiting Ghouls to his cause. If he could just find what they wanted, it was easy enough to coax them into the organization.
But again, the boy did not answer or stir. He appeared to be nothing more than a statue. Or...Marik considered thoughtfully. A puppet.
He tested the waters with the magic of his Item. Careful layers of magic fell like dust over the boy's head, and Marik walked into his mind.
He was shocked at the sight. Every single box was closed tightly. Even the boxes for everyday, normal activities were closed. How could he continue to function? It was a wonder this boy was still breathing.
The rod's magic tightened easily around the empty mind. Usually, when he took over a mind, the victim would suffer convulsions. It was the body's natural mechanism, both resisting and adjusting to the new controller. But it was not so with this boy. He did not stir. He didn't even blink. It was as though he were already dead. It gave Marik a cause to wonder what could make him so dead inside. Perhaps he would take a look in a few of the boxes...
But later, he affirmed. There were more important things to be done.
He withdrew from the boy's mind. It was startling to see that nothing appeared to have changed. The boy was indeed a mime – and now, only a puppet.
Yet there was something distinctly unsatisfying about the whole endeavor, Marik thought. There was something...wrong about it.
He shook the feelings off with distaste at himself. He had no time to be debating morality.
With a gesture, he made the boy stand up and follow him. It was only then that Marik considered what the boy's name was.
Well. It didn't matter. He would call him...Strings. Because he was a puppet, after all.
A/N: Why anyone would ship this is beyond me. Next is Pullshipping (Keith x Yami no Bakura x Marik).
