Bakura: LD, you are treading the edge of a scorpion pit.
LD:Bakura, your name is three syllables.
Bakura: ......WTF does that have to do with anything?
LD: More than your pitiful brain will ever comprehend, my friend. Hit it Tea!
Tea: LD77 does not own YuGiOh or any of its plots or characters.
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Malik waited until Bakura had crawled away before emerging from his hiding place. Still somewhat bemused, he chuckled. Since when did Miss Friendship girl have violent tendencies?
Throwing his single bag over his shoulder, he trotted up the stairs to his door. After rummaging around in his pocket for a moment, he produced a key which he inserted into the door of his new home.
He then turned the handle and pulled. The door didn't open. He grimaced, and then yanked on the door harder. Still no results. With a sigh, he plopped down his bag, twisted the knob, and hauled back with both his hands.
Aside from some grating noises, the door emitted no indication of being affected in the least. Although, Malik considered, it did seem to be rather smug. He grimaced as the words of the landlord returned to him.
He had finally decided to live in these departments, and had gone promptly to the landlord to get his key, sign the forms, and make a down payment. He snickered as he imagined the wrath of his older sister when she learned he had acquired the money by selling certain....family heirlooms. Stepping into the office, he had a blissful smile on his face as he envisioned the puce-tinted face of suck-ups-to-stupid-pharoh united poster girl, aka his sister.
Malik had most certainly not anticipated to be returned to reality by a green glowing Martian. Good thing, then, he wasn't. However, what did snare his attention was the wad of tabacco spit landing directly on his face.
Seated before him was a humongous atrocity passing off for a human male. And it had just spat in his face. Malik found himself yearning for the Millennium Rod, or at the very least its knife.
The excuse of a man looked up at him through piggy eyes and belched. Drops of spittle flew like dandelion seeds, only this was a lot more disgusting. Then the bloated thing opened its mouth, and the situation declined rapidly.
"Hey pretty girl," slurred the man. "What you doin' 'ere?" Malik stared at him. And stared. And stared. And stared. And stared. And stared. And finally...
"YOU F*****G MANB***H!!!!!" In the next few minutes, the obese fellow redefined his opinion of the words 'extreme torment.'
"S-So, you want a-an apartment?" the man's lips were both split, and he had a pillar of lumps on his head to contest the leaning tower of Pisa. Both his eyes were blackened, and four of his teeth were strewn across the floor. Malik flashed his best smile.
"Yes, that is my wish." Rather conspicuously, he flexed his arms and popped his knuckles. The landlord"s eyes bulged nigh out of their sockets.
"S-Sure thing, sir. Here's your key and contract, and you can have the apartment for free if you want, because those regulation morons declared it inhabitable. One lousy infestation of toxic mould, and they start........"
Malik winced as the man's spit flew, and then as it settled for dribbling down his chin as he began muttering under his breath.
Conspicuously, Malik cleared his throat. Startling, the man smiled sheepishly- Malik wanted to gag- and tossed him the key and papers. Malik raised one sculpted brow on his unbelievably hot, smexy, face- far away at her job, Tea suddenly felt like retching- and
grinned. The old geezer really was handing the exclusive rights to the apartment over to him for free! Hastily scrawling down his signature, he chucked the papers back at the lump and nodded a polite farewell.
"Oh by the way," spittle was catapulted forth once more, and Malik grimaced in horror. "The stuff around your place might get a bit temperamental with ya'. Sometimes, it almost seems like the building has a mind of its own. This one girl claims her light bulb talks to 'er, even."
Malik's entire back was coated with spit. With a dignified, polite smile, he turned to face the man and said calmly, "If that is so, then she should be joining you in rehabilitation, no?" Then he slammed the door, found a sizable rock, and with an expression of utmost glee wedged the door shut.
Glaring at his apartment door, Malik supposed its refusal to open was part of what the man had been referring to. He nailed the obdurate fixture with a piercing glare.
"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way," he smiled. "BUT DAMNNIT YOU ARE GOING TO OPEN!"
With an animalistic roar, he braced both feet on the walls to either side of the door, and utilized all his strength in pulling backwards. Imagine his surprise when the door opened without a hitch, and he went flying over the two story railing.
Verbally, his surprise was expressed something like this: "MOTHERF*****G RA CURSED PIECE OF SHIT!!!" But enough about that.
Eventually, he limped his way back up the stairs. With a final glower at the door, he entered his apartment.
He almost turned around and walked back out.
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Deep, deep underground, farther than the sewer systems, past even where moles would dare to dig, basically, so deep that no one with brains would bother digging a secret lair for no purpose other than to suit a whim, there was a secret lair constructed for no reason at all than a whim. And it was here that Bakura was doing a little soul-searching.
He bit one lip. As much as he detested admitting it, after 5000 years spent in the pursuit of vengeance(against the wrong person), someone had suceeded in his plae, and they had done it in the space of five minutes. And it was a non-Egyptian. And it was a non-Egyptian girl. And the sky was blue. And flowers were pretty and carnivorous. And Kaiba was a robot from Pluto in league with the invading goldfish!
Bakura smirked. He was a genius. Laughter filled the cavernous space. Miles away above ground, Ryou paused as his Dark's riotous glee filled his puffy head. Shoulders slumping, the poor boy continued; he sometimes wondered if Bakura should be allowed to think at all.
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Tea really wanted to sink into the ground. While she was painfully aware of her need for money, this job demeaned her beyond all belief. It wasn't as though she was violated in any way, but it certainly came close.
She worked part time at a bar as a maid. The pay, notably average, still exceeded what she would have made elsewhere.
However, the downsides of the job included a skimpy uniform and wandering hands of many of the customers. She suppressed a shriek of outrage as one of said hands pinched her bottom.
With a vein protruding from her forehead, she turned and politely asked, "May I take your order, sir?"
The lecherous slob smirked. "How much does a little cutie like you cost, now?"
A million Bakuras died inside her head in various gruesome ways.
Still smiling she replied "I'll thank you to keep your orders from the menu, sir!"
The man wiped some drool off his chin. "Please," he slurred. "Call me PaPa."
The people here just did not pay her enough.
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HeHe, third chapter. I apologize for how late it is; I am deplorably lazy.
My parents are getting divorced, so my dad can no longer come home. I'm sorry, I just needed to let that out. I fear I rather don't care much anyways.
If you have any suggestions or feel the desire to comment, please do so! Love you guys!