Author's Notes:
I apologize for the suckiness of this chapter from now, and the annoying flipping of places. Luckily, there is a long break where I can regain interest in this fandom and hopefully come out with a better chapter sticking to one theme.
Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING!
Heh, I'm getting better at adding those things.
Casualties rang high for both the angels and demons; however, the half'n'halfs seemed to have escaped this commotion. So, while both sides tried to recuperate their losses, the half'n'halfs celebrated, feasted, and planned.
The first battle had obviously gone to the demons, who swept through the angel's ranks like herpes in a group orgy. But all that meant was that the lower-ranked angels were being gathered for the next battle; after all, no one cares if an insignificant angel were to lose his or her angel status.
~.~
"We've lost our main defenses." A harried messenger gasps, obviously having rushed to escape the bloody battlefield. He anxiously hovers around Mr. Motou, or as he is going by now, Ambassador Motou.
"Look, right now we need to bring in another wave of healers and see whose life can still be salvaged." the Ambassador commands, walking through the infirmary.
"Sir...another advisor has been found….dead." Another messenger flies into the room, this one landing beside the man and walking with him.
"And which one would that be?" The man asks, turning to face the makeshift morgue. Eventually, all of these bodies would have to be disposed of properly, but for now, they just littered the ground in haphazard piles.
"Mai I believe, there, the blonde." The second messenger points to the woman lying beneath another group of people and the Ambassador nods. Everyone's replaceable (except the Prince and his friends, but that's irrelevant (seeing as they're probably off screwing their demon lovers and abandoning their f*cking country).
"Just find some more healers." And with that, the two tag-alongs are dismissed, leaving the man to think for himself.
~.~
"This is taking too long!" Bakura growls, staring at the holding chambers. However, as the only conscious person within the room, his complaint went unheard.
The demon paces around the room a couple of times, taking in his angel trapped within the tube. Eventually stopping in front of the main computer, the demon pokes at the space bar. Nothing happens, so he moves to the backspace, the shift, the control, and finally the enter button. The dim screen brightens, revealing a set of files.
Dark eyes scan the screen as Bakura takes in the blocky letters. Trying to interpret all the fluctuating bars and scanners perplexes him. In irritation, he angrily jabs at a flashing icon in the top left corner. Looking across the screen, the man finally comes across Ryou's name along with a set of charts about him. Now, if he had only cared enough to listen at Noah when he rambled on and on about electronics and all that jazz, he would've known what the information actually meant.
Angrily, the demon stalks back to the tube with his angel, and tugs on the cord feeding stasis fluid into the cylinder lightly, before roughly ripping it out. A shrill beeping sound fills the room as fluid drains onto the floor (successfully drenching the demon's dark boots and trusty trench coat). Taking a step back to brace himself, he punches the tube again.
It cracks, but only barely. Spiderlike cracks bloom from where his first impacted the glass, but the barrier still stands between the demon and his lover.
Bakura growls at the resistance, as though the barrier's existence was affront to his masculinity. Enraged, he starts buffets the glass with a flurry of slugs until the glass finally gives way and releases his angel. Carefully removing the body from the tube, he hears footsteps rushing down the hall.
His skin is slightly tinted due to the fluid, but that's not what catches his attention. The muddy liquid had concealed his body, but now that he was free, it's clear that he is nude.
The demon smirks, running a claw down the boy's cheek and scraping some of the disgusting liquid covering the boy's alabaster skin. His tongue follows his claw, getting a taste of the skin that he had so long missed.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"
The yell cuts through their mini-reunion and jolts Ryou out of his coma. Pale eyelids flutter open to reveal dirt colored eyes, which dazedly take in their surroundings.
"Retrieving what is mine." Bakura responds evenly, flicking the boy's cheek.
"You moron! He's not ready!" Noah screeches, lunging for the pair.
Less than impressed, Bakura dodges the initial attack and makes his way over to the door, his angel swung haphazardly over his shoulder. Throwing a smirk back at the seething Noah (who looked ready to charge again), Bakura leaves the complex.
~.~
Pale skin, an oxygen mask at her mouth, forcing life into her lungs through some incessantly beeping contraption: that's what lays before her. Her friend, her apprentice, someone who had actually looked up to her and had taken her advice seriously, the complete antithesis to her brother. She had failed her, just like she failed him and the king—she had failed another young child.
A bronze hand swipes across the girl's face, removing brunette's bangs. The pale nose twitches, the only reaction she has gotten in the past few days. Her eyes haven't scrunched, her fingers haven't moved—nothing, but the twitch of a nose, like a damned rabbit. Not an angel, not an advisor, and not Anzu: this is some wimp, some remnant of the great angel who had once lived.
~.~
"Multiple stab wounds, eh."
"Yeah, she must've been surrounded."
"Pathetic, she never was one of us."
"Hurry up, we must return to the master before he notices our absence."
The two disappeared into the night, neither caring about the ravaged body of the blonde. One of their own, left to rot in the angel morgue. Her contributions would never be remembered, because they don't exist. She was merely a pawn, a distraction if you might, something to take advantage of their cause. Her menial purpose had been served, making her death inconsequential.
~.~
"Madam," Another lowly servant, perhaps a parent of one of the higher up half'n'half's. The man kowtows in front of the woman, who frowns at such an act of servility. Such a great race falling subject to servitude. It's deplorable, their lack of pride; in fact, she's itching to stomp the demon's head in. Demons do not serve anyone but their own!
But she is on a mission, and she has to keep her facade if she has any hope of getting the information she so desperately needs. "What?" She scoffs, walking past the servant into the grand foyer.
Streamers hang from the ceiling and little balloons struggle to stay afloat. Little elves run around, some with food, others with colorful drinks. Smoke permeates the air and the heat of a thousand bodies packed into a small area rolls over her like waves. They party like demons, she can respect that.
"Hello," an elf approaches her, a tiny smile on its wrinkled face. She looks around, ignoring the creature to push through the crowd, finally reaching the other end of the room. Many people stare at her, but she passes it off as the voluptuous body she's in and the somewhat provocative outfit she wears.
A hand shoots out from the crowd and grabs her, pulling her into a group of stony faced people, each staring her down with a calculating look in their eyes. Rebecca doesn't flinch though; he rolls her shoulders haughtily and stands just a little bit straighter. She looks every person in the eye, daring them to challenge her. But she is no menace, and they do not wither under her stare.
"You are dead." That had caught her off guard.
"I'm sure you have me mistaken for someone else."
"No, few died in battle; you were one of them." This comes from a woman, pale and so thin she looks sickly.
"It was a simple spell any nimrod could cast any nimrod could achieve."
"No, we've checked the body numerous times. You do not belong here." And they started closing in on her, but the tricky thing about that is to surround someone, the victim would have to be in the middle of the circle. Thankfully, for Rebecca, she was not. She dashes back into the crowd, hoping to lose the group among the writhing mass of bodies. Her cover is blown, but she had yet to accomplish her goal.
"HALT!" The booming voice cuts through the room like a knife, immediately silencing everyone in its path. The speaker—blow horn in hand—nods to the back before once again pulling the device to his mouth and screaming, "THE LEADER ARRIVES!" And the doors open, revealing…
~.~
"You're awake." The words are whispered lovingly, although the tone sounds out of place in his gruff voice. Hearing a shuffling around the room, he slowly opens his eyes, contemplating his immediate surroundings.
"Yeah, been so for a while. What's happening?" Ryou asks, clawing purple gunk from his forehead.
"Someone captured you."
"You know I don't believe that." Ryou responds, sitting up and turning to the demon. His sable colored eyes bore into the demon's own russet ones.
"Smarter than you look." The demon grunts, walking towards the angel. He takes a seat at the edge of the cot the angel is resting in, empty-handed.
"Are you that afraid to face me?" Ryou asks, noticing the unease in his tone.
"No, just wanted to give you peace-of-mind."
"So, what did you do to me?" Ryou interrogates, looking at his vampire-like skin. He had always been pale, but this is just absurd!
"Helping you."
"Don't lie to me."
"Helping me."
"Yeah, I see that, but exactly how does that involve turning me into a bloody vampire?" Bakura snorts at the pun, but otherwise remains silent.
"Oh come now, Ryou, surely you can feel the changes." The demon taunts, moving towards the boy.
Ryou looks down at his arm again searching for these transformations Bakura is speaking of, then back to Bakura. The demon is staring him in the eye, probably trying to see if whatever he has done to him has taken effect yet. Ryou exasperated and tired of being so serious, shakes his head and tries to make light of the situation. Remembering all the fun times they've had, he pokes the aforementioned demon in the cheek.
"What the—" Bakura exclaims, stunned, his concentration broken. Another poke.
"Stop—" Poke. Does the boy not understand how inappropriate he's acting?
"Gah—" Poke. He needs to put an end to this.
Bite. Fed up with the incessant poking, the demon bites the angel's finger.
"Meanie." Ryou pouts, pushing Bakura away. As he pulls his finger out though, he notices a crimson mark on his skin.
He stares curiously when the mark quivers and moves, then drops that drops from his finger. The ruby droplet falls on his nose, leaving a streak in its wake. He continues to watch as another glob swells up. It's large, succulent, foreign. Ryou brings his finger to his tongue and takes a tentative lick. Another lick, and suddenly he is sucking on his finger, taking in as much of the delicious liquid as he can. His once black eyes are now a vibrant red, his body pulsing with life.
Bakura smirks, leaning in just enough to stare into Ryou's eyes. He moves the angel's finger from his mouth and his smirk turns into a wicked grin of unbridled satisfaction.
"It worked…"
Author's Notes:
Okay, the last part is strange. Sorry about that. Well, I hope you enjoy the chapter.
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