Ryou didn't realize how much he wanted to live until he was confronting death head on.
He wouldn't say his outlook on life had been dismal, but he had often thought about death. Having been surrounded by it as a child, it was both familiar and enigmatic. He never understood why people feared death, but, at the same time, Ryou wasn't rushing to end his life. He simply saw his life as a predetermined allotment. He would live until he ran out of time.
But Ryou learned that when his inevitable demise drew nearer, he wanted to fight. He still wanted to conquer death.
Ryou remained hidden against the wall, just around the corner from where he had been held captive. He left his prison door open, knowing that this would catch Namu's eye upon returning. Ryou's mission was suicidal, but he had few options. His leg injury made escape through the sewers too dangerous. Ryou didn't trust himself to have enough time before Namu got back.
He needed more time. And the only way he could think of buying himself more time was ensuring that Namu wasted time on a pointless chase. Much like what Namu had ensured they do through this entire investigation.
Ryou held his breath as he heard a scuffling down the hallway. His heart caught in his throat and he remained frozen in his spot. The silence between the steps was deafening, Ryou sure that Namu would see through his trap. No. It would work. Namu walked into his trap before but had a contingent plan back then.
Perhaps Ryou's trap would work, but he couldn't count on it holding him off forever. But then again, the idea was to redirect Namu's focus onto him so that he didn't notice other elements that had gone amiss. Like a certain other prisoner who was no longer in her cell.
The footsteps stopped as they drew closer to Ryou. He didn't need to look around the corner to visualize where the infamous serial killer stood. A rush of steps echoed before coming to an abrupt halt.
Namu would have no reason to go into the cell. It was a matter of convincing him that there was something in there he missed upon imprisoning the detective. Ryou couldn't hope to escape through the tiny window, which was too small for anyone to fit through.
But he needed Namu to question it.
Ryou staggered from his spot as quickly as possible, his gait uneven as he scrambled for the open door. Namu realized his mistake too late, studying the torn dress turned into a rope out the window. He realized there was no point in the open door if Ryou had escaped through other means. That this had all been a set up.
Ryou slammed the door shut, the iron clang echoing down the basement hallways. Namu snapped around, fury etched into every feature.
"Ryou!" he screeched, flying towards the tiny window at the door.
Ryou shoved away, hobbling down the hallway as fast as he could. Ryou didn't have time to feel any sense of satisfaction or accomplishment at his successful trap. It was only one step among many to stay alive. Gloating and self-congratulations would only cloud his mind and distract him from his task.
Ryou clung onto an iron rod, one of the random pieces from the decrepit bed he had managed to loosen. His heart raced, a sense of panic flooding him as the hunt began. His leg throbbed at the weight being placed on it. Ryou was aware this constant stress and pressure on his leg would cause more damage if he didn't get it looked at soon. Granted, there was no point worrying about that if he were dead.
He could hear Jack the Ripper cursing his retreating form. The door clanged as Namu struggled to escape his new prison. Namu's attention was fixed solely on him. Once he got out of the cell, he would hunt Ryou down.
Which meant he wouldn't notice Isis's disappearance.
Ryou swallowed hard, panting as he struggled up the stairs with Namu's enraged bellows behind him. He needed to find an exit as soon as possible. He knew Namu would soon be after him. If he couldn't find a way out, he needed to hide and buy time until Isis could locate the police.
Ryou needed to live until then. His fight against death had just begun.
The rain remained steady, soaking Malik to the bone. His coat did little to shelter him from the rain and he could feel the fabric weighing him down.
Malik explored each alleyway, much like how he the first day he helped Ryou investigate his sister's disappearance. The police still milled about, interviewing passing travelers and using their authority to enter each home. Kaiba had pulled quite a few strings with city hall to get a manhunt under way. They needed every hand on deck to help locate the serial killer.
Malik sighed, his body shivering in the cold spring rain. When they had investigated last night, there had been no blood. Malik had taken this as a sign that Ryou was taken hostage. It would make sense, especially if Ryou recognized the killer. Namu would need time to cover his tracks.
Still, Malik didn't trust that he would keep the detective alive long. He wasn't sure if Namu had already killed Ryou. There was nothing holding him back. Still, Malik refused to give up hope until he confirmed they were alive or dead with his own eyes. He still hoped his sister was alive, as bleak as it seemed, and he still believed Ryou would keep fighting until the end.
Malik paced up and down the alleys, unsure of what he was looking for. He felt frustrated, searching for something that would help them locate Namu. He felt stupid, knowing that Ryou would have found something by now. The detective had always been good at sniffing out what seemed like useless clues and spinning them into full narratives, speculations that could move them, if not towards the truth, at least forward.
"Damnit, Ryou, what would you do?" Malik muttered, leaning against the brick wall. He scowled at the ground, heavy drops of water hitting the back of his head. If Ryou was here now, what would he search for?
Malik blinked, a thought crossing his mind. Perhaps he needed to think more like Ryou. He was focused too much on channeling how Ryou would act right now when in actuality, Ryou had already been here. Ryou must have realized their plans failed last night. If he knew that, what would he have done to help the case?
Ryou must have known his options were limited and decided to leave clues for those who were still free. Ryou would have done something to make sure the trail didn't die here in this alley. He would have left some sort of sign that he had been here, some hint as to where they were heading. Something...
Malik's pushed off against the wall, thinking of the lost wig they found. There had been a struggle. Intentional or not, Namu left that wig to let them know they failed, but it also told them where he last was. And Ryou was nothing but determined. He would have used that opportunity to lay a new trap for Jack the Ripper.
Malik frowned, tracing his steps back to where he first found the wig. He had always come back to this point, trying to clear his mind. He was so focused on what clues Jack the Ripper would leave behind. But Ryou was here too, leaving his own trail of bread crumbs to lead them back to him.
Malik wound down the path, checking each corner for any detail. The water made the path slick and Malik nearly lost his balance on the wet stones. He caught himself, trying to avoid getting his pants wet.
That's when Malik realized it wasn't the wet stone he had slipped on.
He frowned, looking at the dirty bead. He almost ignored it until he spotted two more down the path and then a third laying in the gutter. Malik picked up the bead, wiping it to reveal a bright blue color that had been marred by the dirty stone.
Malik's thoughts flew to his sister, who left a necklace behind in her struggle for freedom.
Malik crawled forward, ignoring the rain water as his fingers traced through the puddles. He found several more beads, scattered about. Before he could write it off as refuse, he finally spotted it, a broken silver chain with a few beads that had refused to come off. A necklace that had snapped during a struggle or perhaps Ryou tossed it like a life preserver out in the ocean, hoping some ship would find it and pull him in.
Malik's heart started to race. It wasn't a coincidence that a necklace should be found. His sister's necklace had sealed the deal weeks prior. It was a necklace here that Ryou left for Malik, a plea for help and to not let the killer escape.
Malik frowned, staring at the pile of rubble before him by the necklace. It was as if Ryou guided him, telling him that not all was as it seemed. Even now, Malik realized that the best way to escape was in plain sight. While they were scattered above checking homes and gardens for an escape route, it was in the most inconspicuous place that Ryou left the trail off.
Malik shoved the wooden debris away, the musty scent hidden by the fresh downpour. He knew the moment he found the necklace how Namu escaped. Even now, as he drew the rubble away, he spotted a hidden grate leading to the sewers. One that would have gone completely unnoticed otherwise.
Malik stood up. It was pointless to keep searching Whitechapel. He realized that the sewers provided him a means to travel anywhere in the city. It served Namu to have the police searching the city where they last saw him.
But the truth was that Jack the Ripper could be anywhere now.
Malik turned to leave, making his way back to the precinct. Yugi should be there by now. Their last hope was that Yugi had a map of the drainage system of London and could map out where Namu escaped to. Time was not on their side and Malik still refused to accept death until he saw Isis and Ryou again. He could only pray that they could narrow their sights somehow or that Kaiba found something that would give them a lead from Namu's residence.
Either way, Malik found himself running through the rain, racing to get back to the precinct before they ran out of time.
It was a miserable day outside that Bakura wanted no part in.
He sat at the bar, smirking at a couple who tried to run across the road to safety, but the cabs and carriages offered no such comfort. The wheels splashed water up, soaking the young woman's dress. Her partner tried to shield her with his coat, but nothing could protect them from the rain.
Bakura shook his head. Nobody wanted to be outside today. It was better to pass the time inside getting a head start on booze than bother with such mundane things like work. Bakura lifted his tankard, finishing off his drink before turning back to grab another one.
The bartender had a different idea in mind, eyes narrowed. He snatched the tankard away, his greasy, black hair slipping back into his face. The pub was steamy and warm compared to the cold rain outside. "And how do you plan on paying for this?"
Bakura smirked, shrugging. "Add it to my tab."
"So you can forget what you owe me and keep drinking my beer? Fat chance."
Bakura rolled his eyes, his hand crawling up the wood to try and snatch a new glass. The bartender noticed, deciding the albino had overstayed his visit. He snatched Bakura's wrist, who growled. Bakura tried to yank it away, but the man was twice his size and heavier still.
Bakura let himself get dragged out, the bartender shoving him out of his pub and into the pouring rain. "Don't bother coming back until you pay your tab off!"
Bakura growled, his coat already getting drenched with water. "Fuck off!" he swore, storming away from the pub. So much for drinking the day away. Bakura waited until he saw the bartender storm inside before pulling out the wallet he snatched. The idiot had been stupid enough to let a pickpocket near his pockets.
Bakura smirked, flipping through the bills. This would cover his tab and then some, but there was no point in returning the cash to that prick. He would find a better bar with better alcohol to waste the afternoon away. If the rain let up by tonight, then Bakura could look into a new job. With Ryou busy with the Jack the Ripper case, the police had turned a blind eye to his recent nightly excursions.
An added benefit to this city going to shit.
Bakura stared up at the sky, realizing that taking the main roads was a good way to get drenched. Though it would take longer, the alleyways would have better coverage. He had one pub in mind that he knew his reputation hadn't reached yet (or at least he hoped they hadn't heard of him). It would take him by the West End and lord knew there were travelers everywhere there and cash to be made.
Bakura slipped into the shadows, the rain catching him only when the wind picked up. It sloshed against him, getting the side of his pants soaked, but he was mostly dry. The sound of rain echoed around him, calming and soothing. If he were a richer man, he would stay home, leave his windows open to listen to the sound of the rain over the city. But since Bakura lived in a real shithole, he didn't feel like listening to the screaming neighbors and drunkards a floor below.
Bakura felt the sound wash over him when he heard a harsh clang. The noise stopped Bakura in his tracks. He looked around, seeing nobody. Nosiness usually wasn't wise (that was how he got wrapped up in the Jack the Ripper case only a few weeks ago), but he wasn't anywhere near Whitechapel. He was fairly close to the center of the city, where the pinnacles of government and the establishment rose above the neatly aligned houses.
That meant money.
Perhaps the noise was Bakura's next target. It couldn't hurt to check.
Bakura kept his ears pealed, the strange metallic sound ringing in the air. It came sporadically, somewhat soft and muted in the rain. He wasn't sure what was causing the noise, so Bakura felt no desire to rush into what could possibly be a trap. It sounded as if it came from one of the smaller side roads.
Bakura was certain he had found the source of the noise, though there was no visual in sight. The tiny side road was empty of any passersby, everyone (wisely) staying in. Perhaps someone had been running outside and he had just missed them. Bakura was about to write off the entire scenario when he saw something move in his periphery.
Bakura turned just in time to see the storm drain shift. He blinked, wondering if he had one too many drinks back at the bar, but the grate shifted again, the iron cap struggling to move up. It looked like someone was trying to get out, but, by the water pooling around the entrance, they were having trouble pushing the grate up and away.
Bakura probably should ignore it, but he was too curious for his own good. He liked to stick his nose where it didn't belong because that was usually how he found his next paycheck. If things looked bad, all he had to do was drop the piece of metal back down and walk away like he never saw anything. He sighed, walking over and pealing back the grate.
Bakura blinked, confused by the pair of blue eyes that looked up at him in shock. The person stumbled back, both in confusion and to avoid the waterfall of rain that flooded into the sewer. Bakura frowned. He had run into a lot of weird shit in his day, but this might take the cake.
He looked down at the woman standing in the sewer drain below. "What the hell are you doing down there?"
She shook her head, her black hair shining from water. "It… It's complicated. Can you help me up?"
Bakura rolled his eyes, realizing this was just a dud and not his next paycheck. His curiosity landed him in the role of the Good Samaritan and he never liked playing that role unless he benefited from it (which defeated the point of doing good deeds selflessly). He knelt down, accepting that he was going to be drenched today and nothing would change that. An outreached hand gave the sewer maiden some stability, though she struggled with the slick ladder rungs.
It took some time to maneuver but after a few minutes of wrangling, the young woman was finally out of the sewer, her dark dress tattered and soaked. She shivered, a haunted look on her face as she looked up at the sky. There was something off about her, but Bakura couldn't stop staring at her night black hair and ocean blue eyes.
He felt like he had seen her before, but he wasn't sure where or when.
Even though it wasn't any of his business, Bakura wanted answers for helping a stranger out. "So is travelling by sewers some hidden London secret I wasn't aware of?"
She gave him a haughty look, despite the disorientation she seemed to be struggling with. "It wasn't by my choice! I- There was- It doesn't matter. Can you help me find the police station? It's urgent!"
Bakura let out an exaggerated sigh, resisting the urge to roll his eyes with that. This was exactly why he didn't want to help people – it invited them to ask more favors of him. Bakura was no charity service. "Sorry – me and the police don't exactly get along at the moment. I can't help you there."
Bakura turned away, leaving the crazy sewer woman to find the police on her own. He paused when he felt a hand grab the sleeve of his coat.
"Please! It's about the Jack the Ripper case!"
Bakura stopped walking, his mind going a mile a minute. He turned back, staring at the desperate woman. He thought he had seen her before, but it had only been in passing. However, he remembered seeing a picture of her, one given to him by a certain detective. A certain woman who had been kidnapped by Jack the Ripper.
Bakura stared at the woman, the rain still as heavy as always. "Isis Ishtar?"
Her breath caught in her throat, a look of worry crossing her face. "How do you know-"
"Detective Ryou interviewed me for the case. He showed me your picture." Bakura figured it would not be wise to mention that he had been a suspect in the case. If she really was Isis, then getting her to Ryou (and thereby clearing his name) was of top priority. Ryou might be part of the system, but he'd always been willing to break the rules when he found it necessary. Ryou would hear him out and know how to make sure Isis's escape wouldn't be used against him.
Ryou was decent in his book, though he really needed to loosen up. Kaiba had not been good for his health.
Bakura was just trying to recall how to get to Ryou's flat from here when Isis stepped forward, alerted. "You know Detective Ryou?"
"Yes?" Bakura asked, finding the question strange. "How do you know him?"
"He's the one who helped me escape. He's still trapped and Jack th-"
Isis didn't need to finish up her sentence. Bakura remembered his conversation with Ryou, how they had laid a trap for Jack the Ripper. Ryou had warned him off so that Bakura wouldn't get unnecessarily entangled in the case again. He hadn't needed to do that, but he still did. That's just the kind of person he was.
He didn't know much about the case, but he knew that Isis had been taken prisoner by Jack the Ripper. Bakura had thought that had been a bunch of hogwash, but Ryou had been certain of it. And just as they tried to catch the infamous serial killer, Isis shows up saying that Ryou helped her escape. Something went wrong with their plans and Ryou was trying to do what he could so that the trail didn't end there.
Whatever grievances Bakura had with the cops, he couldn't let Ryou die on his watch.
Bakura grabbed Isis's hand, a sense of urgency gripping him. She jumped, startled by the sudden contact, but Bakura didn't let go. He nearly dragged her through the pouring rain. "We have to hurry. The precinct is not far from here. Kaiba might not listen me, but he'll listen to you."
"You… You're helping me?" she asked, a hesitant note in her voice.
Bakura bit back a sigh, settling for a shrug as they ran across the road. "I owe Ryou a favor. The thought of him being dissected by a deranged sociopath is something I'd rather avoid."
"… Thank you." Isis's voice wavered, a wariness and tiredness still clinging to her. Bakura didn't know what she had suffered these past few weeks under the care of Jack the Ripper. But he also knew that Ryou wouldn't be so lucky as to stay alive for long. He had made himself an active enemy of the serial killer.
Gratitude wasn't something Bakura was used to. He glared through the haze, bracing himself for a confrontation with the irate police commissioner. "Whatever. Let's move. I'm sick of all this fucking rain."
