Chapter 3
Torment's Release
Marik had never spoken to Bakura's host Ryou before. So it was sort of strange to be talking to him now. He was like Bakura on a nonexistent good day, drugged with happy pills; all wide eyed, friendly and without the demon hair.
"Would you like some?" He beamed, putting a coffee cup in Marik's hand before he could decline, "Yugi told me you had a rough night,"
"It wasn't exactly comfortable," Marik thought of Bakura's Soul Room.
They were all stood outside on the blimp's ridiculously high Duellist platform. The wind was batting around, attacking their faces and making them shiver. Seto Kaiba had unusual ideas about comfort, but that probably wasn't the intention anyway.
Marik scowled in the CEO's general direction. Another keeper of a God card, another person to get through.
"I'm not very keen on him, either," Ryou confided, close to his ear. "But it's his blimp, I suppose. And I've never even been on one before," his voice rose with childish excitement.
Ryou looked pale and it was telling of what he had been through in the past couple of weeks. He'd only just emerged from inside the blimp, after a week of confusion and unconsciousness. He didn't remember anything of the recent duels to get into the finals, but he seemed healthy enough, and his arm was healing okay.
Marik remembered the look of relish on Bakura's face, as he'd driven the knife into the arm, embracing pain. There had been more blood than Marik had expected, and even though they'd barely met, he'd been worried and wondered why Bakura would do that to himself.
At that time he hadn't know the Spirit just occupied the body, but when he'd finally figured it out he hadn't felt much in the way of sympathy for Ryou.
Now, looking at the reluctant host, he did feel a bit. It couldn't be easy, housing something like Bakura.
"Have you had any luck finding your ring, Ryou?" he decided to ask.
Ryou looked at him, unease flashing his face; "Er, no. No luck, if that's what it is," he laughed. Marik raised a brow.
"Would you rather it stay lost, then?"
"Wouldn't you? It's not much fun being possessed by a demon...spirit, whatever it is," Ryou rubbed his injured arm, "to be honest I hope I never see the damn thing again. Good riddance,"
Marik rolled the coffee around in it's cup, watching the blackness edging at the sides. "Did you know the spirit might have saved you? In the duel against Yugi, I mean,"
"Did it?" Ryou sounded disinterested. He was watching the duel platform, where Odion and Joey were taking their places and shuffling their decks. "I suppose I should be grateful, but I'm not," He shivered as he turned to face Marik. "I don't sense it, whatever it is, very much. But sometimes it talks to me. To be honest I can hardly concentrate on what it says most of the time. There's this feeling, like cold, all around me. Just thinking about it makes me feel it again,"
Marik tried to look surprised, though he knew that feeling very well. It was the sum of Bakura's Soul Room, the coldness, the darkness. The very feeling that had laced into himself now, giving him the unwanted headaches. Bakura was contagious.
"I'm sorry, I just can't be grateful to something like that," Ryou carried on, voice all soft. "It possessed me with little or no warning at all. It attempted to send my friends to the Shadows one time...If Yugi had not defeated it, I dread to think what would have happened," Ryou was suddenly angry; "It made me afraid to see my friends, afraid to do anything, cos of what I might do! I'd hope the damn thing was destroyed."
Marik pretended to consider that; "do you think it is?"
"I know it's not. I can feel it tapping into my head," Ryou smiled weakly, "I'm getting better at blocking it off though, and without access to my mind the Ring can't return to me."
Marik felt the Ring under his shirt, emitting a faint heat. Bakura was agitated, Marik could sense it. But their link was closed; Bakura would have to use force if he had ideas about possessing either Ryou or Marik. Marik just hoped Bakura could understand at least a little about their little trust talk.
"I'm so sorry, gibbering on about voices in my head and strange rings. You really must think I'm insane. And er, not very good company,"
"Not at all," Marik grinned, more for the fact that it was so strange to see such a sweet and harmless look on "Bakura's" face. Marik would never get used to that. "Gibber away. It's not every day someone gets possessed by evil forces."
Ryou smiled, and looked impossibly sweeter; "I'd agree with you, but conveniently we have Yugi and his other self too."
Marik smirked around his coffee cup; "Your gang has a habit of attracting evil, spirit-y weirdos, doesn't it?"
"Obviously we've got Spiritual magnetism," Ryou grinned, but quickly fell back into seriousness; "Yugi's spirit is good though,"
He sounded so certain, and yet Marik remembered Bakura's sharp words in his mind, about pompous, arrogant Pharaohs.
"Trust me to get stuck with the damaged one."
Marik blinked up from his coffee, realising Ryou was talking about Bakura.
Seto Kaiba's voice commanded the arena at that moment, signalling the duel was about to begin. With the Millennium Rod tucked inconspicuously within a long trouser pocket, Marik found Odion's mind and spoke through it;
"The Spirit sends his good luck wishes,"
Odion peered at him, and to anyone else it would look like a fleeting glance. Marik saw the apprehension on his adopted brothers face though. Odion did not trust the Spirit and he sensed it's darkness, although he'd never attempted to reason with Marik about it.
Marik thought that was just as well, he already knew what Odion thought and Odion never convinced Marik of anything.
If he had, they wouldn't be in this situation right now.
88
Within the Ring, Bakura sat curling his toes and occasionally feeling the faint darkness of his newest owner hovering around his Soul Room.
Yes, it was definitely a new darkness, and it was getting stronger by the minute. Bakura's stomach clenched with excitement whenever it rippled particularly forcefully around him, like a rough gale of emotion.
Marik had not yet opened their link, not that Bakura blamed him. Still, he was quite intrigued that Marik had chose to trust him. Of all things to choose.
Bakura shook his head, amused. His connection with Ryou was fixed, although he still couldn't reach his host's mind. It was closed off well enough, but that wouldn't stop Bakura. He knew with a little focus he could get to Ryou by force.
For now though he was quite happy around Marik's neck. The tomb keepers presence was both warm and cold, a conflicting mix of sensations that played havoc with Bakura's mind, unless he focussed on one or the other.
On the one hand he could listen to Marik's words about motorbikes, his laugh that was human but somehow amusing, and the hand that touched his arm that had felt warm. All these things warmed something inside of Bakura, though he hardly knew what it was.
The fierce ripple of dark waves that danced hungrily about him right now were the other hand. These were the seeds of darkness that Bakura could be most familiar with; swarms of agitation, anger, real hate. These things made Bakura twist with delight and forget about anything else.
He inhaled the darkness. It was stinging and wonderful all at once, and it fed him and promised him something special. He couldn't know what that was yet though. That was the gamble.
"Am I supposed to help you, Marik?" Bakura spoke through their link, even though he knew Marik had shut him off. "I can see your potential, but I'm not sure how to bring it out."
He searched the ceiling of his Soul Room, where the swarm of darkness had settled for a while into a black cloud. It went round in circles, every now and then swooping down to envelope Bakura, before whirling back up to the ceiling again.
It had grown so much, perhaps all Bakura needed to do was wait.
"Bakura?" Marik's voice echoed off the walls, breaking through the Spirit's link and his thoughts.
"Yes?"
"The duel is beginning, I'm going to give you access to my link so you can watch for yourself," there was a pause, "no tricks, ok?"
"Of course not," Bakura promised, remembering trust and the strange warmth.
The swarm of dark hummed noisily above, before swooping back down at him again. Bakura shielded himself this time and the darkness fell away and thinned out a little as it flew back to the ceiling.
"Interesting," Bakura said to himself.
"Bakura? Are you talking to yourself again? And you tell me you're not psychotic."
"I don't think that's a sign of being psychotic," Bakura grinned at the invisible Marik voice.
Remembering the link was now open, he concentrated on Marik's presence as he did often enough with Ryou. He could see through Marik's minds eye, and there before him was the duelling platform, Odion and Joey occupying either side just as Marik had said.
"You gave him the fake Rod," Bakura was impressed.
"Don't act too surprised, I'm not as moronic as you might think."
"I don't think you're moronic," Bakura considered; "just rather...stupid sometimes."
"I didn't know you cared," Marik sounded very sarcastic.
"Well you're only human. We can't all be perfect," Bakura turned to gaze at the pale boy stood near to Marik.
His host was slurping on pink milkshake and looking cheerful considering everything he'd been through. Bakura was surprised that his host might be so unpredictable. He'd not so much hoped it, but he had expected Ryou to be moping about somewhere in a dark room.
Then again people, humans, were confusing things, Bakura was already learning. All bets were off when it came to them.
"My moneys on the blonde one," Bakura told Marik through their link.
"You don't have any money," Marik pointed out.
"Remind me to owe it you if I lose, which I won't."
"Where are you going to get the money? Hiding under one of the rocks in your cosy little Soul Room?" Marik asked. Bakura could tell he was grinning.
"I've acquired an interesting new bit of decor, that might stop your complaining," Bakura said, eyeing the angry black cloud on his ceiling, "next time you visit you must tell me what you think of it."
"Oh? Some flowers and a tv set, maybe? You know I love to watch the racing."
Bakura thought he knew, but it was sometimes hard to dig out the memories from within himself for some reason. He thought hard, clawed at the part of his mind which was warmer, and then recalled Marik's bright face telling him about motorbikes and tv shows.
Not that it mattered. He pulled a face; "there aren't any flowers or tv's in my Soul Room, Marik,"
"Aw, I'm disappointed," Marik sounded like he might be pouting. "Next time I visit I'm going to expect a tv. With cable," he added as an afterthought.
"I see you're rather assuming about the availability of my Soul Room, aren't you?" Bakura pretended to be annoyed. He wasn't, and he wasn't sure why.
"It's not like you're having a 24 hour party in there, is it?" Marik said cheekily.
"True, but my host might be starting to miss me," Bakura looked back at Ryou, who looked silly and far too concerned about cheering on Joey Wheeler.
Oh, the Duel. Bakura had almost forgotten.
"Have you only just noticed?" Marik asked, reading his thoughts.
Bakura cursed and closed his mind for a few seconds. Marik was far too distracting. It should have been much more annoying than it was.
He retreated a little back into his Soul Room, but kept close enough to Marik's open link so that he could see the Duel in front of them.
The swarm of Marik's unknown essence was still humming loudly, like it had been disturbed by Bakura's brief communication with the tomb keeper. Bakura gave it a guarded look;
"What are you so worked up about? You should thank me for letting you stay here."
The clouds hums lulled a bit, and wove a brief and concentrated circle around Bakura, almost like it was scanning him, searching for something.
"You're very impatient. Not that I'd expect any less, considering who made you," Bakura said wryly, and thought about Marik.
88
The buzzing in the back of Marik's mind had been getting slowly more pronounced. He couldn't pin it on the Spirit of the Ring though, since it had been there before, when those strange headaches were poking about.
"Strawberry milkshake, Namu?" Ryou asked. "It's my favourite."
"Strawberry milkshake? I'm ashamed to call him my host."
Luckily Marik had a ridiculous Ryou and sniping thief to keep him distracted from the buzzing.
"Thank you, Ryou," Marik took the shake, and then nudged at his link to Bakura; "You're just mad you're not getting free drinks."
Bakura huffed, but didn't say anything else. Marik grinned, winding up the Spirit was always fun, and it distracted from the buzzing more than anything.
"You're looking much better!" Ryou must have noticed him grinning. "I'm glad you could see the duel. We all want to see Marik go down."
"Oh, er, yes," Marik looked at the platform. He wasn't worried; he knew all of Odion's cards and he had a secret weapon which he'd not even told Bakura about. In the back of his mind he could hear the thief yawning.
"This duel is very boring. If it's a strategy he might make it an interesting one."
"That doesn't matter, he's pretending to be me, remember? And you don't know what's to come."
"Oh?"
Marik felt Bakura perk up with proper interest. He smiled to himself and said nothing else. Bakura and everyone else would find out soon enough.
Currently Joey was goading Odion, which was rich considering how low the boys Life Points were. For all appearances it looked like Odion would win, and Marik was fine with that, even if it meant his secret weapon wasn't going to come to light. A shame.
It took all Marik's effort not to smirk and keep up his mask of support for the blonde. In Marik's head, Bakura was sniggering. Alright for some.
He had to grab the nearby rail when he felt the spiky link between himself and the Spirit spark.
"Bakura?" He spoke cautiously. Was this the beginning of an unwanted possession?
"The Pharaoh is here," Bakura returned.
Marik turned casually to see the tall, confident form replacing what had been Yugi a few moments ago. Yami was cheering Joey on, and Marik could feel Bakura's seething, the Ring against Marik's chest burning a bit.
"You can sense him when he appears? How, Bakura?"
"Does it matter?" Bakura said waspishly. "We're both ancient Spirits, we both live within Millennium Items. I suppose a connection is inevitable."
"So you're more alike than you think." Marik said.
"In some ways," Bakura sounded like he wanted to stab something.
Marik focussed back on the duel, and found himself happy to mix hate with hate when it came to Yami. The Pharaoh's advice to Joey seemed to have had an effect, and Odion was taking a beating up there.
"You'd better have that money ready. I don't think your fake is up to the task," Bakura commented.
"He will be," Marik glared up at his adopted brother, watching him draw his next card. The shock that crossed the other's face told Marik that he shouldn't worry.
88
"The Winged Dragon Of Ra? You're full of surprises, Marik," Bakura spoke mostly to the darkness.
The dark cloud was crawling everywhere now, gathering a fierce momentum.
"Odion holds a fake version," Marik told him, voice bouncing around the Soul Room abstractly. "You know I'm not stupid enough to use the real one,"
Bakura supposed he wasn't, and went back to gazing at the black swarm of his ceiling.
It was fascinating, more so than anything else. He sat and watched it grow, thicker and bigger, louder and more unbearable.
Distantly, Bakura could hear Marik yelling. What was he yelling? Bakura was finding their link harder to reach for some reason, like static on a tv with bad reception.
"They're beginning to suspect...He needs to draw the card to prove he is me..."
Oh, the Winged Dragon again. A duel. Bakura could barely remember. It seemed like a memory that belonged to another person. Perhaps he should watch the God come to life. But why bother? Faced one, faced them all...
He went back to watching the smog of dark, eyes gleaming.
88
Ryou had been enjoying his second coffee and third milkshake when things started to get a bit strange. He'd almost spat out his drink when the Winged Dragon of Ra had been summoned, and nearly choked on it when the bright lightning had started stabbing the blimp at random moments.
Namu, who was nice but rather quiet, gave him an absent pat on the back. Mostly his shoulder. Ryou had a feeling he was somewhat distracted.
He'd never seen a God card in action before, except that brief moment in his last duel with Yugi and Slifer. That hardly counted with him being possessed and thinking he was having crazy hallucinations most of the time.
Now he stared up at the Winged Dragon in awe. It was very frightening.
"Are those...lightning type things supposed to be happening? Because it definitely looks like a safety hazard,"
"I'm really not sure," Namu looked concerned too, even more so when Ryou studied him properly. There was a thin layer of perspiration on the others face, and his eyes were wide and very dilated.
Ryou wondered if he'd maybe offered him too much coffee.
"It's not obeying," Namu said, sounding distressed. "The God card isn't obeying him!"
"Er, yay?" Ryou suggested; "we don't really want Joey getting fried by terrifying dragon Gods, do we?"
Namu didn't appear to be hearing him. His eyes were trained ahead, and he gasped as a slice of lightning suddenly broke onto the platform, targeting Odion. The man staggered as the Rod shattered in his hands, then he collapsed.
88
The buzzing dark swirled around like temptation. Bakura stood up and raised his arms, inviting it all to coil around him and invade his being. Now the buzzing was in his ears, making them ring. He wouldn't hear Marik now, he didn't want to.
This human's other half, his intriguing darkness, was coming to life, and Bakura watched, entranced, as the cloud began to form a circling abyss. His Soul Room was screaming, and the screams had little identity because they sounded inhuman.
Bakura laughed, even as he fell forward, the dark was suffocating but it didn't worry him. It was clenching his chest and making him crawl, on hands and knees, toward the abyss.
A voice, or maybe it was just a thought, called to him. Bakura imagined it had frightened and violet eyes.
He stopped crawling, squinting through blackness, trying to seek out the source. It was a warmth he'd remember at any other time, but right now it was just a sensation and nothing else. The roar of the dark was too loud.
Bakura shrugged, turning back to his new goal. The abyss was magnetic and promised him great things.
He was so near. He reached out a hand, fingertips touching the curves of smoke, and stinging with the touch.
88
"That's not a good sign, is it?" Ryou gripped the rail, like it might decide to save him.
Next to him Namu was trembling too. That was good, Ryou didn't feel too bad for being rather scared out of his mind then.
They both watched as Joey ran to help Odion, but was struck down himself.
"Is this part of the duel?" Ryou asked, horrified.
Namu was whimpering unhelpfully, so Ryou looked past him to see that Yugi and everyone else seemed to be sharing the same horrified thoughts. Tristan was clambering to get on the platform, and Kaiba was yelling at him to stop.
The two figures on the platform were still for the longest time, but it was Joey who got up first and was decided the winner of the dangerous duel. The blonde rushed to help the one they all thought was Marik, and Ryou felt uneasy as the man slowly came round, dazed and raising a shaking hand.
"I am the servant of him, the real Marik," the clearly very crazy man said, pointing at Namu, who Ryou knew was nice and quiet, if a bit of a chicken.
He turned to tell Namu to ignore ridiculous accusations he might be a psycho, but the words died in his throat.
Namu was clutching his head, the Millennium Rod was on the floor glowing, and the screaming was unbearable. Yugi and his friends were watching in horror, as Namu seemed to be fighting against something inside of him, something inside his head...
Ryou looked instinctively at Namu's chest, and saw the glowing circular object beneath the shirt with an angry realisation.
Namu's face was contorting in a mix of fear and agony, but Ryou didn't think about it. He leapt forwards and wrenched at the Ring, snatching it off Namu's neck, cutting the string. He stumbled back and fell over, the Ring hot in his hand.
Ryou stared up, along with everyone else, as the form that had been Namu raised his head.
Blonde hair stuck up like knives, shoulders broad and pulsing newfound muscle, and a hellish smile;
"Heh. I am the real Marik, Dark Marik,"
88
Bakura had hesitated too long. He watched the black abyss slip from his reach like water rushing down a sink.
Suddenly everything was deathly silent, very cold, and just as it always was before. Bakura heard a whimper somewhere to his left. He didn't need to turn round to know it was Marik.
8
The tomb keeper was curled up in the middle of his Soul Room, making the noise Bakura remembered as strange and uncomfortable.
Now that the swarm had gone Bakura felt oddly drained and disappointed. Where were his promised things? Why had the darkness left him?
He turned reluctantly to the tomb keeper. How weak he looked.
"Marik?"
The tomb keeper did not react, his back was to Bakura and his body was still trembling. Bakura did not like to look at it. He tilted his head away and looked at a stone wall.
"Are you alright, Marik?" Bakura asked the wall.
Marik made a choked sound, a sob, probably. He didn't seem keen to talk.
Bakura did not know how he was supposed to react; this was all very irritating and impractical, though.
He knelt down by the human. "Am I supposed to leave you to your snivelling and wait till you feel better?"
It took a moment, but Marik turned around to face Bakura. Bakura saw the wet, upset eyes of the tomb keeper and his stomach twisted.
"Marik?" he repeated quietly. He didn't know why his voice should sound so weak.
Marik rubbed his eyes, his chest was shuddering. Bakura watched it with a detached fascination. To breathe and be human, to have to do these strange things, it seemed pointless to him.
He spoke into the silence; "I saw your darkness,"
Marik stopped wiping his eyes, stared at the Spirit. "what did you say?" he sounded frightened.
"Your darkness is very great," Bakura said in a matter of fact sort of way, "I sensed it, I thought I did, from the first moment you entered my Soul Room," he paused, giving Marik a puzzled look; "don't tell me you never felt it inside of you?"
Marik kept staring at the Spirit, gaze glassy with tears. "I don't know what you mean," his voice was unsteady now. "What are you talking about, Bakura?"
Bakura frowned. Why were humans so ignorant!
"Your darkness was all around my Soul Room, it has been trying to get out for a while now. You should be pleased, it's very powerful."
"Pleased?" Marik repeated blankly.
Bakura nodded, feeling impatient. "Yes."
Marik blinked, and then his mouth fell into a scowl;
"Pleased?" he rushed at Bakura without warning, grabbing the Spirit by the collar and shaking him violently. "I've lost my body! I've just lost everything! To that thing you're saying I should be pleased about!" Marik panted, his face so close Bakura could see himself in the violet eyes.
The Spirit was confused more than anything;
"Why did you fight it? You could have been so powerful-" he coughed as the back of his head connected with the ground, and then he realised Marik had punched him hard in the mouth. He licked his lip, tasting the warmth of blood there.
"Stupid thief," Marik hissed. He turned away, rubbing an arm roughly over his face. "How could I...why did I even think of coming back here?" he gazed all about the Soul Room, and looked truly despairing. "I shouldn't have...what have I done?"
Bakura sat up lazily, wiping his split lip. He noticed Marik's hands curled into tight trembling fists.
"You've just released your darkness, Marik."
"Shut up," Marik said dangerously.
"Why are you so upset?"
"Wh..why am I upset?" Marik repeated, full of shock. He shook his head; "You can't understand..."
"What do you mean?" Bakura asked with genuine wonder.
"Look at you," Marik was incredulous, and gestured at Bakura with wild arms. "You're a Spirit, you're not alive, you're not even human! Why should I have expected any understanding...any help from you?"
Bakura glared; "I was helping you,"
"What? How?"
"I was helping to release your darkness, and it succeeded! Don't tell me I wasn't helping you!" Bakura didn't realise he was standing until he noticed Marik standing up too, levelling with him. Bakura had not felt this sort of anger before, it made his essence pang and twist in confusion; "Youshould be thanking me! After all, I let it into my Soul Room! I let it grow!"
Marik looked disbelieving, he was shaking his head. He laughed, and it sounded high and unnatural, echoing in the coldness.
"You don't get it, do you? I don't want this, I don't want your stupid darkness! I want revenge on the Pharaoh and nothing else!" Marik's eyes were suddenly earnest and hopeless on the Spirit. "You can't understand that?"
Bakura kept glaring, but inside his mind was whirring like a broken tape. He'd never felt so confused about a question before. He felt like Marik was trying to pull something out of him he didn't even know he had.
"I-" he looked around, searching his Soul Room, which was useless and redundant, as usual. "I can't understand," he snarled, fingers breaking into his palms.
"Clearly," Marik's voice was hard and like ice.
Bakura turned away, he didn't know what to say. Marik was hugging his knees up to his chest, staring at the ground like it was his worst enemy. Pathetic like Bakura had come to expect every human to be, and weak in a way that made Bakura want to help.
He wasn't sure why Marik was here, but he knew that it wasn't supposed to happen like that. He concentrated on the Ring and sensed at once it was loose. There was no mingling there, none of the essence of Marik that Bakura had become so familiar and agreeable with.
"You can't possess me, Spirit," Marik said nastily. "I have no body to possess."
"I'm figuring that out," Bakura growled. He shook his head, breaking away from a link that wasn't there anymore. "It seems your darkness took your body, then."
Marik looked up at him; "you say it like it's nothing."
Bakura shrugged.
Marik sniffed, he was still all wet on his face and shaking a bit like humans tended to do, but Bakura thought he'd survive ok.
"Since I'm separated from my body, I suppose I'm just a soul now, right?"
"That's right."
"Then how do I get it back? I won't let it be taken by that-that whatever it is."
"Your darkness," Bakura smirked despite everything.
"My darkness?" Marik said softly. "I had no darkness, Bakura. It's you, you brought it out of me," he stared through Bakura; "and now I'm trapped in your Soul Room. That was a good trick, Spirit. I should have seen it coming, really."
Bakura didn't bother denying it, Marik was a stubborn human and there was little point.
He focussed on another link, willing it to be open.
"Stupid host," he muttered, finding it was completely closed off.
Marik laughed, eyes still shining with tears; "Ryou won't listen to you! He hates you, probably as much as I do right now!"
Bakura gritted his teeth, focussing on the link even harder, if only to spite Marik. He could break through with force, his host had always been weak...
The barrier didn't budge, it was a solid block of disconnection. Bakura cursed quietly, but loud enough for Marik to hear.
Marik was laughing almost hysterically now, rocking on his knees.
Bakura shook his head; "I don't know what you're so happy about. He's the only chance you've got to get your damn body back."
88
Notes: so this is where the chapters get longer! Sorry there was lots of confusing mind linkage happening here. I had a few problems trying to link up Bakura with Y Marik's eventual release. I hope it wasn't too confusing and repetitive. Next chapter we'll be seeing more of Marik's bad self ;)