(Well here's chapter two. Uh this is taking so long to get typed out due to school but there's only two more days left so that's cool. Anyway enough about me lets get to the story.)

Chapter Two: Beautiful Ivory

It was an hour since Marik left and not surprisingly he was lost. SHIT! What now? All he wanted were nails so he could hang up the lights, but no! Nothing was that easy was it? Marik took a step back and took in his surroundings. Unlike his neighborhood of Victorian styled homes this place was a bit beat up. The tenements where still Victorian style but they needed a paint job and repairing to the outer area badly.

"Excuse me?" Marik called out to a passing man but was completely ignored as the man pressed on as if he hadn't even noticed. "Well fuck you!" Marik mentally added that basterd to his hit list. Now fumed Marik continued on his, heading no where, journey with a glare that screamed 'Fuck off or have your stomach ripped open with my bare hands!' Then the oddest realization struck him. Why hadn't he killed that man then? Why put him on hold? He had the rod hooked on his belt in case the need to spill blood arose. So why did he allow that man to carry on? It was absurd!

"You seem lost Love?" Came a raspy deep voice.

Marik spun around in search of this voice but found only a scrawny albino looking male who looked like he was suffering from a bad case of anemia exiting one of the tenements. A voice like that couldn't have come from such a fragile looking person. Could it?

"You talking to me?" Marik pointed a black nailed finger to himself as he set his eyes on the male.

"Yes. You don't look like you're from around here?" This male was beautiful. Marik had to admit that, but he also had to admit that this guy would look even better with crimson blood spilt over his ivory skin.

"I'm not. Just moved here from Egypt."

"Really. You came a long way. So where you headed?"

"Anywhere I can find nails I guess. Why?"

The new male chuckled amusingly at Marik's defensive outburst. "Just thought I could lend a hand is all and I must say you're in luck. I work at a hardware store so if you wish to follow me I can assist you." The Brit got a sly smile on his face but Marik brushed it off as nothing. Besides if this guy tried anything Marik would kill him.

After starring at the back of the Brit's head and going over his facial features in his head, Marik realized this guy looked awfully familiar, but where had he seen him before? Perhaps…. no it couldn't be. Since it couldn't be then maybe it was okay to kill him. The fantasy of seeing blood spilt over this guy kept nagging and tugging at Marik in more places then one. He had to do it now or go crazy thinking of it.

Marik unsheathed the rod and checked for passer-bys. No one in sight. Marik raised his arm over his head with the rod in hand. As he was about to plunge the rod into the back of the guy he met moments ago the feeling of him being 'that' person entered his mind once more and he halted his attack.

"By the way, what's your name?" Came that raspy voice. Marik quickly hid the rod behind his back incase he decided to turn around.

"Marik." He never did.

"I'm Bakura."

Bakura? Bakura didn't ring any bells, but how could he be for sure if couldn't even remember what 'that' persons name was?

Marik decided to put the rod away until further inspection.

"Okay so how much nails do you need?" After Bakura and Marik got to the store Bakura clocked in and assisted Marik on his search.

"Don't know. How much will five dollars get me?"

Bakura nodded then filled a paper bag to a point then weighed it. "This much." Marik looked into the bag then nodded. It was more then enough. "Okay then Mr. Ishtar, lets get you to the check out stand."

"Excuse me?" Marik narrowed his eyes and looked at Bakura with question.

"What?" Bakura also narrowed his eyes and glared hard at Marik in defense.

"I never told you my last name."

"You….." Bakura looked at his feet for a moment then shook his head. "Sorry. My mistake." Bakura turned away and continued heading to the check out stand. What was that? Why would he say that? Surely he heard the name Marik and Ishtar together some place before, but where?

As Marik followed Bakura he pondered why Bakura knew his last name? Did he tell him? No he didn't! Marik always made it a habit to not announce too much about himself. Marik continued to wonder but that was until it was pushed away by another sick fantasy. The image of the nails being pushed slowly into Bakura's bare skin and the man yelling in pain filled Marik with such satisfaction and pleasure that he could feel a slight hard on forming. Luckily his coat was long.

Bakura placed the nails on the conveyer belt than turned to Marik with his crimson eyes.

"So what's the nails for?"

"Lights." Marik plainly answered for the fantasy was still vividly playing in his demented noggin.

"Well then. I better be off on other duties. Good luck on your lights." With that Bakura went on his way.

Marik watched with wonder as Bakura walked off. Could he be the same guy? If he was why didn't he recognize Marik? Perhaps he forgot some details like Marik; it was an awful night after all.

Now that Marik got his nails and was now standing outside it struck him. Where was home?