DD: Okay, I have very little time to do this. This is a dark chapter, the next one will be funny. Hope you like. I own nothing.

Malik glared at Ushio. "We owe you nothing!" He snarled, pushing away from the wall.

"Malik, don't make things worse," Ryou mumbled.

"He's right, Ishtar." Ushio smirked. "All you need to do is give me the money you owe me and I'll be on my merry way."

"For the last time, we don't owe you any money!"

"Are you so sure about that?" Ushio smirked and raised a hand, snapping his fingers. About five of his cronies – because Ushio didn't have friends, only followers – came into the alley.

Malik glared at them, standing in front of Ryou and Yugi with a protective stance. "Stay away from us!"

Ushio smirked. "Nah." He looked at his cronies. "Get them."

Malik's eyes widened. "Guys, get out of here."

Yugi looked up at him. "But-"

"Just go! I'll be fine!"

"We're not leaving you, Malik," Ryou insisted.

"How very noble of you." Ushio's cronies surrounded them. "Unfortunately, nobility like that is liable to get you into trouble, Bakura."

One of the cronies lunged at Malik. He ducked and swung a punch at him, hitting him in the stomach. The man coughed and stumbled back, winded. Another two lunged, but Malik ducked again and, with a sharp kick to the back of his knees, swept one off his feet. The other scowled and tried to punch him, but Malik managed to block and counter the attack.

Hearing a soft yelp, he whipped around to see that two cronies – one of whom was the first one he fought – had pinned Ryou to the wall with one of their hands on his neck. Malik let out a soft breath of relief when he saw that they weren't squeezing his throat. Yet.

But the soft-spoken boy looked terrified. The final crony had Yugi in a headlock. "Let them go," Malik growled, fists clenched.

"Of course I will." Malik turned to face Ushio. "Once you give me the money."

"We don't have your frigging money!" Malik snapped.

Ushio's eyes darkened. "I see. In that case, Ishtar, you're going to have to fight your way out."

"Doesn't seem like it'll be much of a challenge if this is all you have to offer."

Ushio's smirk returned. "Oh, you won't be fighting them." He twisted his head, cracking his neck. "You'll be fighting me."

Malik couldn't help but gulp. The older boy was almost twice his size and weight, with bulging muscles.

Sure, Malik was strong. But not that strong.

Before Malik could block him, Ushio stepped forward and slammed his fist into Malik's gut, and twisted it.

Malik coughed and fell back, clutching his chest. Somehow, Ushio had managed to get a direct blow to his solar plexus, and now he couldn't breathe.

"Things would have been so much easier if you just gave me the money, Ishtar."

"W-we d-d-don't…" Malik coughed and tried to breathe. "We d-don't have… t-to give you a-anything…"

"What a pity that you see it that way." Ushio grabbed the hem of Malik's shirt and dragged him up so that they were face to face. Malik's feet dangled just off the ground. "Once I'm through with you, I'll deal with Bakura and Mutou too. Unless you find a way to get me my money." Malik spat at Ushio. A snarl crossed Ushio's face and he dropped Malik, backhanding him across the face. Malik stumbled and crashed into a wall. "Fine. Have it your way." Ushio slammed Malik against the wall again, pinning him there by his shoulder. "I'm going to enjoy this, Ishtar."

He raised his fist. Malik squeezed his eyes shut and tensed, preparing himself for the blow. Before Ushio's fist could even move an inch, a dice sailed through the air and hit Ushio on the head.

"What the hell?" He whipped around, releasing Malik. The blonde slid down the wall and sank to the ground, gasping for breath. He looked up to see a dark, lithe figure at the entrance to the alley way, throwing a few dice into the air and catching them.

"You know, bullying isn't very nice."

"Who asked you?" Ushio snapped.

"No one. But unless you want to get your ass handed to you on a silver platter, I suggest you let them go."

Ushio smirked. "And who's going to hand it to me? You? Please, you couldn't beat me in your dreams."

Though he couldn't see the boy, Malik could hear the smirk in his voice. "We'll see."

Yami woke later on that night. Bakura was still asleep, but he could see Marik sitting up on the couch.

With slow movements, he unwrapped his arms from around his younger brother and stood, walking over to Marik. "Everything okay?"

"He's here."

Marik's voice was cold, devoid of any emotion.

Yami blinked and peeked through a crack in the curtains. Outside was a sleek, blue Corolla with the registration plate reading 'IWK YA', which he knew from experience stood for 'I will kill you all'.

"This isn't good," Yami mumbled, looking back at Bakura. Marik followed his gaze. "We can't let him get hurt again…"

Marik nodded in agreement, looking up as he heard footsteps. "What should we do?"

Yami didn't respond as the door opened. It wasn't slammed open, like it often was by Aknamkanon.

Aknadin Sennen's entrance was much slower. "Hello boys."

Aknadin's starch white hair contrasted with his tanned skin and he had duel-coloured eyes. One was a cold, unforgiving blue. The other was glass; gold with a black pupil.

Marik and Yami watched him, their bodies tense. He narrowed his eyes. "Now is that any way to greet your uncle?"

The two exchanged a glance. "What are you doing here, uncle?" Yami asked.

Aknadin smirked and looked over at Bakura. "I wanted to pay a visit to my favourite boys, of course."

Marik stepped between them. "He's sleeping."

Aknadin glared at Marik. "Then wake him up." Marik remained where he was in the middle of the attic, between Aknadin and Bakura.

"You're not hurting him again."

Aknadin's glare darkened. "You're in no position to tell me what to do," he snarled, striding towards Marik.

Yami caught his wrist before he could grab Marik. "Don't touch him."

Aknadin twisted his hand out of Yami's grip and then shoved him back. Yami stumbled and his legs hit the couch, causing him to fall onto it. "Stay out of my way, Yami." He turned back to Marik. "I don't think my brother's methods of teaching you respect have been very effective. Maybe I should have a go at it."

Marik bristled but didn't move. "You'll need to do a lot better than simple threats if you want to scare me."

"I'm not threatening," Aknadin hissed, leaning closer to Marik. "A threat implies that the person might not do the deed. I will definitely do it." He grabbed Marik's arm and twisted it behind his back, forcing him onto his knees. "Now are you going to come willingly, or am I going to have to force you?"

Marik couldn't do much other than let out a soft grunt of pain in response. Taking that as an agreement to the second option, Aknadin pulled Marik to his feet and out of the attic. He looked over at Yami and smirked. "So much for being the protective older brother."

He pulled the door closed again. The sound of the lock clicking into place caused Bakura to stir.

He blinked open his eyes and looked around. "Yami?"

Yami swallowed and walked over to him. "Everything okay?"

Bakura's gaze seemed clouded. "Where's Marik?" Yami hesitated. "He's here, isn't he?"

"…Yeah…" Yami nodded.

Bakura looked down. "I hate this," he muttered. "Whenever he comes I always feel so weak…"

Yami sat next to him. "You're not weak, Bakura. You're a lot of things, but you're definitely not weak. If you were weak, you wouldn't still be here."

Bakura sighed. "You and Marik are stronger."

"I get it easier than you guys, remember? You two are a lot stronger than me," Yami mumbled. Bakura didn't reply. Yami put a hand on his shoulder. "You'll get through this."

"I hope so…"

Ryou stared at the newcomer in shock as Ushio stepped towards him. "You damn punk," the bigger man growled. "You really think that you can beat me?"

"Oh, I don't think so." He threw a dice into the air and caught it. "I know so."

Ushio clenched his fist. "I'll teach you to mess with me." He ran at the boy. Ryou saw him clench the dice in his fist before throwing several at the ground. Ushio stepped on them and slipped, crashing hard into the ground.

"Ushio!" His cronies released Ryou and Yugi and ran to their leader.

Ushio groaned and sat up. "Get him you idiots!"

The five looked at each other and then at the boy before attacking. Before they could land a single blow, a second figure pulled the boy back, this one more recognisable.

Ryou's eyes widened. "Tristan?"

"Jeez, Duke, don't run ahead on me like that again." Tristan blocked a punch and threw one of the cronies over his shoulder. He landed flat on his back and didn't get up. "That's the third time."

The boy shrugged and sidestepped a punch. "Yeah, but this way is more fun." He kicked the back of the man's knee and dropped a dice, causing him to stumble, slip on the dice and faceplant into the floor. "You know I love a good chase."

Tristan rolled his eyes and threw another man over his shoulder. He landed on the person that Tristan had first thrown, who had been just about to get up.

The remaining two cronies glanced at their fallen comrades and then at Ushio before running out of the alleyway. Ushio glared at the three boys. "This isn't over," he growled before following them.

Once they were gone, Tristan and the boy ran up to Ryou, Yugi and Malik. "Are you guys okay?"

"We are, but Malik got into a fight with Ushio," Ryou replied as he helped Malik up.

The boy winced at the sight of the forming injuries in various visible places of Malik's body. "Yikes. We need to get those treated pretty quickly if you don't want them to swell. Come on; you can come back to my place and I'll sort you out."

"Wait, first off, can you tell us who you are?" Yugi asked.

The boy looked up at Tristan with a smirk. "You never mentioned me? I'm hurt, Tristan."

Tristan rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say."

The boy chuckled and turned back to the trio. "The name's Duke. Duke Devlin."

Joey sighed as he put two pieces of bread into the toaster and pushed it down. It was set to the first level.

All of his friends called it warm bread. Joey rolled his eyes. It wasn't warm bread; it was toast.

Just because he didn't like his toast burnt didn't mean that it wasn't toast. It was crispy, warm and crunched when you bit into it.

It was toast.

Ryou seemed to agree with him but remained neutral as he did in most arguments that the group had. But he was a devil to go up against in a debate.

Smart kid.

Joey froze when he heard the door open and he glanced over his shoulder to see his father. "Joseph."

"Hey, dad."

"Get over here."

Joey glanced at his still cooking toast before gulping and walking over to his father. Hank Wheeler grabbed him by the hem of his jacket and slammed him against the wall. "Why were you late?"

Joey hissed in pain. "I went over to Kaiba's to work on a project!"

"A project, huh? So how long were you sucking his dick for?"

Joey glared at his father. "For the last time, I don't like Kaiba and we're not going out!"

"Tell that to your Skype calls. How long do you call him a night for phone sex?" Hank punched Joey in the gut. "Twenty minutes?"

Joey coughed and clutched his stomach. "I'm just calling him to talk; nothing else!"

Hank sneered at him and released him. "If I see one more shred of anything that hints at him fucking you, you're no longer my son."

He strode out of the room. Joey stumbled away from the wall. His toast popped. Joey glared after his father. I don't want to be your son.

Aknadin threw Marik into the chair and tied his wrists to the armrests. He didn't talk, unlike Aknamkanon. He preferred to get things done.

Except in Bakura's case.

He would torment him about Kul Elna for as long as he could. But as it was Marik, he didn't care for that. He picked up a small plank of wood and nodded to himself.

He spread glue over the surface of it and picked up a glass, examining it before hurling it at the wall. Marik flinched when it shattered.

Aknadin smirked and scooped up a handful of the glass. It pierced his skin but he didn't care.

He sprinkled it over the wood and then went back to the table that he had picked the glass up from. There was a container of pure rock salt. He nodded and poured the salt over the board as well.

He waited for a minute for the glue to dry before striding back to Marik. He smirked and dragged the wood down Marik's arm.

The tanned boy screamed in pain as the glass pierced his skin and the rock salt was pulled through his injury.

Aknadin's smirk grew and he repeated the action. When the boy's arm was almost shredded, covered in blood, Aknadin moved onto the next arm.

Marik, who had slumped against the chair, out of breath, tensed when he felt the board on his arm again.

Aknadin dragged it down his arm, and then pushed it up again. Another scream was torn from Marik's throat. Aknadin didn't pull the board away from Marik's arm, preferring to drag it down and up again.

When Marik's screams dulled to pained whimpers, Aknadin threw the board behind him and picked up the rock salt and a roll of bandages.

He took a handful of the salt and poured it over the wound.

Marik let out a choked sound that would have been a scream, had his voice not given out on him. Aknadin then bandaged the wound so that the salt was pressed against the wound, but it stemmed the bleeding. He then proceeded to do the same with Marik's other arm.

He stepped back to admire his work. Marik was slumped against the chair, eyes squeezed shut. His arms were trembling from pain, and his teeth were gritted. His fists were clenched but Aknadin knew he wouldn't try to escape. He untied him and pulled him up from the chair.

Marik staggered but managed to stay standing. Aknadin's smirk grew as he dragged him back up to the attic. Next time he went to get Bakura, Marik wouldn't be a problem.

"Thanks for helping me out, but I need to get going," Malik said to Duke as he left the apartment.

The raven haired boy nodded. "Okay, well if you need anything, just let me know."

Malik forced a smile. "I will."

He didn't bother waiting for the elevator. Instead he ran down the three sets of stairs and out into the car park. He almost looked for his motorbike before remembering that he didn't have it with him.

"Well this isn't good," he muttered, hands in his pockets. He had ten minutes to get home before he got into trouble.

As far as he could tell, he was about a half hour walk away. Sighing, he looked around. Seeing a sign for a local park, he shrugged. He was going to get in trouble for being late either way.

"Are you sure you want to go back?" Solomon asked as Ryou packed his belongings back into his bag. "You know that you're welcome to stay here for longer."

Ryou smiled. "I know, but my mother should have left by now, and I don't want to be a burden on you."

"But you're not a burden!" Yugi protested. "Right Grandpa?"

"That's right." Solomon nodded. "And besides, if Akane is still there, you could be in danger." He refused to call Akane Ryou's mother. In his view, anyone who would try to force their children to do something like take drugs didn't deserve to be recognised as a parent.

Ryou hesitated. Yugi smiled. "How about this; I go with you to your house, and if your mother's still there, we can come back to my house. If she's not there, I could stay at your house for the night, and maybe we could invite Malik over for the night and watch some movies."

Ryou hesitated. "But if she's there, then you could be in danger…"

"It's still better than you going alone," Solomon agreed. "If there's two of you, there's a much smaller chance of anyone getting hurt."

Ryou looked between them. "You two aren't going to drop this until I agree, are you?" They shook their heads. He sighed, a small smile on his face. "Okay, fine."

Yugi cheered. "I'll go pack a small bag."

Solomon and Ryou were silent as Yugi left the room. Solomon looked back at Ryou. "Be careful, okay Ryou? And remember, you always have a place here if you need it."

Ryou nodded. "Thanks, Mr. Mutou-" He paused, seeing Solomon's frown. "I mean… Grandpa." Solomon grinned. "I promise, I won't let Yugi get hurt."

Solomon put a hand on Ryou's shoulder. "Yugi can take care of himself. You put yourself first for once and make sure you don't get hurt."

Ryou hesitated before nodding. "I will. Thanks, Mr. Mu- Grandpa."

Solomon grinned. "Think nothing of it." He clapped Ryou on the shoulder. "And don't forget to bring the recipe for those cookies next time you come over."

Ryou sighed. "I don't think that's a good idea…"

"Why not?"

"They're bad for you, Grandpa. The nurse told you not to eat anymore junk food."

Solomon waved his hand dismissively. "They can't tell me what to do. I've been alive longer than they have. You just bring the recipe and I'll worry about the rest."

Ryou chuckled. "Okay."

Yugi came back into the room with a backpack. "You ready to go?"

Ryou nodded and picked up his bag. "Thanks for everything, Grandpa."

"It was no bother. Now you two have fun, and if there's any trouble, just give me a call and I'll come to pick you up."

"We will!" Yugi called as he and Ryou ran downstairs and pulled their shoes on. "Bye, Grandpa!" They walked outside.

The snow had melted earlier that day, but there was likely to be more later that day. There was no doubt that there would be more snow before New Year, which was in another two days.

They were silent throughout the walk to Ryou's house. When they got there, Akane's car was gone, but that didn't mean anything. It could have been towed.

"You ready?" Yugi looked up at Ryou.

Ryou took a deep breath and nodded. "Let's go."

Marik stumbled into the room. Aknadin closed the door and he heard the lock click into place.

"Marik, are you okay?"

Marik looked up to see Yami walking over to him. Bakura was sitting on the couch, watching him.

There was hidden concern in his eyes, but Marik knew he wouldn't act on it.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"What happened to your arm?" Yami asked, looking at Marik's arm. Marik looked down at his arm to see what it looked like.

Blood was already seeping through the bandages, which were wrapped tightly around the whole of each arm from his shoulder to his wrists.

He could feel the salt on the wounds, pressed closer to them by the bandages. His arms were burning from the pain.

"Oh yeah," he choked out, his throat aching.

"What did he do?" Yami took Marik's arm by his wrist, examining it.

"Ripped it open and then poured salt over it," Marik muttered. "But I'm fine now. Really."

Yami gave him a disbelieving look. "Marik, you're voice is still hoarse from screaming," Bakura said, standing up.

Marik pulled his arm away from Yami. "I'm fine," he insisted. "I just need to wash them."

He began walking towards the bathroom. Bakura caught his wrist. "Marik, whatever he said-"

"He didn't say anything."

"Bullshit."

"No, he really didn't say anything," Marik replied. That was probably the worst of it…

Bakura hesitated, eyes narrowed before he released Marik's wrist. "Just don't do anything stupid."

Marik smirked. "Since when do you care?"

"I don't."

"Good." Marik turned and strode into the bathroom. He unwound the bandages with a hiss of pain before washing the wounds. The salt and dried blood alike washed down the drain. He looked at the wounds closely.

His arm had been shredded. There were some light wounds and other deep ones. He sighed. It wouldn't matter anyway.

He looked at the sink. Resting on the porcelain surface was one of Bakura's treasured knives.

His face was blank as he picked it up. He pressed the tip of his finger to it to test its sharpness. Blood welled up as it pierced his flesh. Perfect.

He held out his arm. None of it would matter again.

DD: Please review. I'm gone for three weeks. See you at the end of the month. Bye