Dont know if i put this in the first chapter but... if you dont like random unamed people being killed you probably shouldnt read this .
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Chapter 2

During the reign of the Pharaoh Yami a picture of peace and prosperity was painted, but that was not always the case.Like with many societies, a large amount of Cairo's population was poor, and it was mainly those in the pharaoh's favour and in the high courts who were far better off. Bakura was lucky, he managed to survive long after being abandoned by his parents by simple thievery, he was even luckier when around the age of 14 he stumbled onto the murder of a rich council member, the murderer only taking small trophies yet leaving the rest to go to waste or inheritance.

Since then he had followed the black-hooded Egyptian wherever he went and picked the house clean of valuables. Not once did the boy in the hood complain or say anything. In the first few weeks of trailing this silent killer to and from murder scenes and even to the place he hid out at, Bakura had wondered if the boy in the hood even knew he was there. That was until one night when trailing him across the sand dunes, the hooded boy turned around and stared directly at him before he turned back around and continued walking.

He had tried making simple conversation between murders and returning to the hiding place however he never got an answer, in fact it took him over three weeks to properly see what his business partner actually looked like. He wasn't your average black haired, tan skinned Egyptian but a blonde one with a set of odd markings engraved into his back, what they were he couldn't tell, he had only seen them briefly before those cold purple eyes were glaring at him. The boy had the eyes of someone who had been murdering for a long, countless time; they were dead, lifeless, purple eyes. He liked them.

Bakura didn't know why the 17 year old killed, only that it was followers of the pharaoh on his mental list and that was fine with him, he too resented the pharaoh and was dreaming of the day he would be able to get into the palace and rob him blind. Besides loot, curiosity for knowing things that might enable him some how was one of the thieves weaknesses, so he had Duke see what he could dig up. However there wasn't much, he came from a line of Tomb Keepers, who around the age of ten was taken with his older sister to the pharaohs palace, how he ended up a killer on the loose was still a mystery.

At least he had a name to call him by 'Marik', a letter that he had found on a table had been addressed to this name, but before he could try and read it the blonde boy had nearly cut his fingers off with one of the daggers concealed within the black hooded cloak he always wore. If he asked any questions the deeply tanned Egyptian would just go on killing his selected victims as though Bakura wasn't even there, though he didn't complain, since he had started following this boy he had made more money then he had ever thought of though he also wasted a lot of it away.

"Marik…" Bakura hissed through gritted teeth, as the silent Egyptian walked out into the main street, though the night goers and other people travelling the main road took no notice of him. The white haired Bakura stepped out into the street, not keen on losing sight of his quiet, but deadly, business companion. On the other end of the street a few metres down the road stood Marik, gazing up at a house while passer-byes just walked passed him oblivious to what was going on.

Bakura hung back on the street edge, watching as Marik entered the house turning off one of the lamps as he went. Bakura approached the house as soon as it was all nice and dark, done in such a way it would seem as its occupants had just gone to bed. From what he had seen and heard around town he had been in no way connected to these murders or robberies and planed to keep it that way.

He stepped into the house and began to search out the most valuable items it held; unlike the first this one wasn't as big or as lavishly expensive. Bakura froze as the sound of a voice reached his ears. Had Marik missed one? It didn't seem possible from what he had witnessed. Either way he followed the sound of the voice, it seemed to be begging or praying for something and Bakura briefly wondered if Marik had gotten bored of simply killing people and had moved on to torture.

It was a woman who was making all the noise, he saw her standing before Marik, tears running down her face as she repeatedly begged him to spare her life.Marik, however, unfazed lifted the sword he held in his hand and with one swipe silenced her for good. Her body fell to the floor, blood flowing freely; staining the rug she had been standing on only moments before.

Bakura looked to Marik only to see him staring at something, a rare look of confusion in his eyes although it quickly vanished and he watched as the blonde changed his grip on his sword. He turned away from Marik, murderous expression back in place, and to what he had been looking at. Bakura stepped forward, not bothered with the blood seeping towards his feet from the dead women, what interested him was what was sitting up against the wall behind her; something she had never once begged to save.