Author's Note: Back by popular demand.
Chapter II: Midnight Raid
Bakura was annoyed.
The yami had woken up after some sleep which was actually refreshing. But, that wasn't why he was annoyed.
See, normally, Yami Bakura didn't mind the dark. Actually, he welcomed it. But, at that moment, it was the cause of his annoyance.
Because, Bakura needed some meat. He was going to die if he didn't get some lovely, lovely meat.
But, he wasn't able to sneak out and find some if the damn Ishtars were up. They'd send him back to his room and bring him some healthy fruit. He shuddered at the thought. Bloody tarts, he'd kill them all.
Bakura's stomach was beginning to sound like a thunderstorm. He couldn't take it anymore. Whatever the risk, he had. To. Find. Some. Meat.
Bakura sprung from his bed and tiptoed down the hall. He peered into the bedrooms along the way, seeing, to his satisfaction, that the tombkeepers were, in fact, asleep.
With little effort needed, Bakura discovered the kitchen and began ransacking all the cupboards. Usually, he would make an effort to be quiet while doing this, but a combination of hunger and knowledge that Marik was a heavy sleeper made his scavenging sound like a pack of wild dogs hunting down a gazelle.
Nothing. Bakura couldn't find even one scrap of meat. It was just his luck to be taken in by vegans.
It was time for a little thieving. And, 'thief' was Bakura's middle, first, and last name.
The yami found his way through the tombs to the exit. It was no longer locked because Marik's father was gone, making it much easier to sneak out. He opened the large, wooden door and discovered that it was still dark outside. The storm had passed, leaving the Egyptian sand saturated and an lingering, eerie quiet in the desert.
But, Bakura didn't have much time to take in the midnight air, because suddenly the galloping of several horses reached his ears. He ducked into the ruins.
The galloping stopped, and the murmuring of several voices entered the darkness.
Bakura leaned to the ground and placed his ear on the stone, straining to hear what the voices were saying.
"... These tombs are creeping me out," someone whined.
Bakura scoffed.
Another person replied, "There's nothing here. Let's just have a snack and keep going."
Snack? What kind of snack? Bakura thought, I hope it's not more damned fruit...
He let his night-vision kick in and peered over the ruins, seeing that three men had dismounted their horses and were sitting on lone rocks in a circle. Then, they began to take out something that made Bakura's mouth water.
Beef jerky.
Bakura had to restrain himself from pouncing on the meat like some psychotic puppy. He needed a plan. A good plan, too. It was three on one.
He continued to listen and heard the whinny man say, "But, guys, I've heard horrible stories of ghosts in these ruins. Spirits that linger after their death, feeding on strangers to their land."
The man who hadn't spoke yet said bluntly, "Those stories are for dumb bastards. Don't even consider something so stupid."
"Maybe," the second traveler warned, "But, my motto is 'you can never be too careful'."
Bakura smirked menacingly. This would be easier than he thought. He slipped back into the Ishtar's tomb for some... supplies.
-transition-
Snap.
"Did you hear that?" the fearful one of travelers asked, making the rest of the trio strain to hear what he had supposedly heard.
Crack.
"There it is again!" the man exclaimed, bordering on hysteria.
Bakura stifled his demonic cackles while he hid behind a stone ruin and snapped some large twigs.
The skeptical one admonished, "You're crazy, man. You must be getting Midnight Sun Madness."
"No," the last one confirmed, "I hear it, too. Listen."
Crack. Snap. Crack.
Before any of them could speak, Bakura jumped out from behind the ruins, completely white. He was already white enough to be considered a ghost, but just to make sure that he got his beef jerky, he covered his clothes in a layer of flour.
"INCOMPETENT MORTALS!" Bakura screeched in his best ghost voice, "HOW DARE YOU STUMBLE INTO MY RESTING PLACE! I WILL TORTCH YOUR SOULS IN THE FIRE OF ETERNAL DAMNATION!"
The men had all grouped together and were hugging themselves, cowering in fear before the spirit. Bakura scowled. He had hoped they would have just run immediately, but no, they were too stupid.
He thought a moment before continuing to monologue, "BEFORE I SEND YOU ALL INTO THE SOUL-EATING SHADOWS, DO YOU WISH TO BEG FOR MERCY?"
"Yes- yes!" the only sensible man in the group stuttered, "Please spare us! Who- who are you?"
Bakura grew an impish smirk and stated, "I AM THE SPIRIT OF THE ANCIENT THIEF KING." Technically, he wasn't lying.
"I've-I've heard of the legendary Thief King!" the frightened one exclaimed.
Bakura continued grinning mercilessly and inquired "OH, SO YOU HAVE HEARD OF ME? THEN, YOU MUST KNOW OF ALL THE HORRIBLE ACTS OF REVENGE I'VE COMMITTED?"
The men answered him with silence, shaking with expressions of pure terror.
"GOOD. THEN, I DON'T HAVE TO REPEAT MYSELF." Bakura leaned in and explained as quietly as he could while maintain his ghostly tone, "THERE IS ONE THING YOU COULD GIVE ME THAT WOULD ALLOW YOUR SOULS TO BE SPARED. DO YOU WISH TO KNOW WHAT IT IS?"
Though the men didn't reply, they nodded their heads frantically.
Bakura leaned a little closer and whispered with a completely straight face, "BEEF JERKY."
The middle traveler began to question, "What would a spirit want with-"
"LOOK, DO YOU WANT YOUR DAMNED SOULS TO BE SPARED OR NOT?" Bakura asked, backing away once again.
Once again, the men nodded with vigor.
The blunt man stated, "We have beef jerky..."
"YOU DO?" Bakura pretended to be surprised, "THEN, YOUR SOULS STILL MIGHT HAVE A CHANCE! WHERE IS IT?"
The man took the bag of jerky off the ground next to him and handed it to the spirit with a shaking hand.
Bakura pretended to examine the bag as if he was mulling over if the jerky was a good payment for the safety of their souls.
Finally, he looked up at the fearful travelers and clarified, "YOUR SOULS WILL BE SPARED IF YOU DO JUST ONE MORE THING FOR ME."
"Anything," they all answered simultaneously.
Bakura commanded, "GET ON YOUR HORSES."
The men did so.
Bakura smiled and exclaimed "HAPPY TRAILS!" before slapping the horses, frightening them into going full gallop and taking the gullible travelers deep into the vastness of the Valley of the Kings.
Once they were past the horizon and out of his sight, Bakura finally got to cackle like a hyena and enjoy the fruits of his labor. And by fruits, he meant meat.
Bakura put his back against some ruins and wiped the flour off his hands. Opening the bag, Bakura swallowed a fair share of beef jerky in one gulp, finally content.
After he had finished his jerky, the yami found that the travelers had left him more than just jerky. He discovered some bags and counted up his new prizes. None of it was as profitable as the meat, but Bakura did manage to acquire a nice, new hat, which he wore proudly as a trophy.
Content with his winnings, the spirit leaned up against a rock, crossing his arms and placing the hat on his face, deciding to take a nap after all his efforts.
Finally, the vast desert peace returned to the landscape and Bakura fell into his favorite kind of sleep, one without dreams.
-transition-
Bakura felt a nudge on his side. He chose to ignore it. This time, the nudge was harder. Bakura couldn't ignore it.
The yami lifted the hat off his face with his thumb until it lying lazily on his head and opened his eyes, seeing himself surrounded by several tough-looking men.
"Howdy, boys," Bakura greeted casually. He looked around at the faces of the men and decided they weren't happy. Then, he looked up and saw that the sun was just bleeding into the morning sky. He added, "Good morning."
One of the men questioned, "You're not the spirit of the Thief King, are you?"
Bakura recognized this man as the scared one of the group he had tricked the night before and said mockingly, "Nice to see you again."
"You didn't answer my question," the man stated.
Bakura shrugged, seeing no point in lying and said, "Yes, I am the spirit of the Thief King."
One of the unrecognizable men said, "Sir, you can drop your act. We are taking you in for questioning."
Bakura wanted to know just who this guy thought he was and let his eyes wander, seeing a shiny police badge on his chest.
Law enforcement? Damn...
"I don't know what you're talking about," Bakura blurted out quickly.
Another police officer stepped forward and interrogated, "Is it true that you stole these traveler's personal property?"
Now, he was in trouble. Bakura needed to find a way out of this. If he didn't, not only would he get his first strike in Marik's game, he'd most likely go to prison as well.
Suddenly, Bakura received an idea.
He once heard Marik joke that if Bakura ever got caught by the law, he could easily escape being arrested if he let his inner psycho come out. It was just crazy enough to work...
"MY JELLY FILLED DOUGHNUTS HAVE KETCHUP IN THEM!"
The men exchanged looks. Was this teenage boy insane?
"MY PET CHICKEN, CLUCKY WILL FEED ON YOUR CORPSE!"
Again, the men wondered.
One of the policemen whispered to the travelers, "Was he acting like this when he stole your things?"
"Uh, ya, kind of," they admitted.
The police officer nodded and replied quietly, "I think it'd be best to find this kid's family and let them deal with him."
"THE DARK LORD ZORC WILL COME AND DESTROY YOU ALL!"
"I agree," a traveler concluded.
They turned back to face Bakura, and one of the police officers inquired, "Where does your family live, kid?"
"I WILL ONLY BE ADDRESSED AS MASTER OF DARKNESS!"
"Uh, okay, where does your family live, Master of Darkness?"
This was fun for a while, but now Bakura had to tell them where he lived.
Which meant, he only had one choice.
Bakura merely pointed to the tomb entrance across the ruins.
"You're a tombkeeper?"
Bakura shook his head up and down enthusiastically.
"That explains a lot," a traveler commented, "I've heard those tombkeepers spend their entire lives underground. I bet he's not the only kid to go insane down there."
Bakura had to hide a smirk.
"Okay, uh, Master of Darkness," the police officers picked him up off the ground and lead him over to the tomb entrance, "Let's get you back home."
Bakura let himself be dragged over to the tomb door. The men knocked on entrance loudly.
After a few moments, the cellar-like doors swung open, and Ishizu walked up. Immediately, she turned back and called, "Marik! Your Kitty got into trouble!"
Bakura inwardly groaned. Damn it all, that nickname was sticking...
Ishizu turned back and disappeared into the tomb. Moments later, Marik took her place.
He glanced over Bakura and sighed. Turning to the police officers constricting him, Marik said, "Thank you very much, officers, for finding my lost Kitty. I was about to put up lost posters."
Bakura growled. He was the punch line of a cruel joke. And, he thought he was the master of cruelty.
Before the men could comment on this, Marik reached out and took Bakura's arm and dragged him in, saying, "Let's go, Kitty, and I'll find you some lovely yarn to play with."
Before the tomb entrance door closed, Bakura faintly heard one of the men mutter, "Mental tombkeepers..."
That would have made everything worth it to Bakura, but Marik had to go and ruin his one shining moment by mumbling "Strike one, 'Kura, strike one."
Author's Note: Bakura Strike Count: 1
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